SpiritFarmer

Looking forward to this weekend. Tonight I’m headed to the living home for an informal gathering with the likes of Todd Hunter and some locals in the Church. Should be some good times. Then tommorrow I’ll take my friend Chad with me up there for more of a directed “unconference.” I’m looking to be refreshed with their company and common vision.

Weird week. Hard week. Michelle’s company is going through transition . . . still. Her department director was informed the other day that his services will no longer be required as of the end of the year. The company is closing the facility she works in, and moving everyone to one of four places: their Oceanside facility that isn’t operational yet, their facilities in North Carolina, their facilities in Cambridge, Mass., or the unemployment line. She’s been told numerous times that she is on the “valuable employees we definitely want to keep around” list, but somehow it isn’t very reassuring. The company seems to be trying hard to help people despite the difficult decisions they’re making – tough stuff, though.

On a purely selfish note, the company might offer to fly employees and their spouses to the east coast to get tours and figure out if they’re interested in moving. I don’t think we’re into the idea of moving, but I’m trying to talk Michelle into taking a tour at Cambridge anyway . . . free airfare, free hotel, meal allowance. Sounds good to me . . . even if I have to buy my own tickets to a Red Sox game at Fenway (I’m assuming the hot dogs and pretzels would be covered in the meal allowance). O.k., I’m a jerk.

April 27.

10:50am

93 freakin’ degrees

Over the weekend, Michelle and I had some good conversations. There is a big part of me that is always in process – rethinking where I’ve come from and where I am and where I still need to go. Fortunately, I’ve got a gift from God in my wife, who is frequently willing to help me walk through these things.

Well, as we were talking, I realized that despite how mind-bending my little world seems to be at times, I’m actually in a really great place. Because of the hard work of stripping down my theology and doctrine and expectations of God, church, etc., I’ve kind of come full circle. Initially the “conversation” of emerging culture/emerging church/postmodernity/whatevertheheckyouwannacallit excited me and gave me hope that I could employ new ways of thinking within my current context. Then it became clear that this was unlikely, and then it was flat out impossible. So I quit. Quit the stable, traditional church gig and launched out into whatever it is that I’m trying to do now. After nearly a year of “this” I understand that I’ve continued to move, grow, and develop. And I think freedom is the best word to describe where I am.

I pretty much suck at church planting, but I have the ability to continue on this road, and I’ll do that until God tells me to do something different. I could also go get a regular job, and do the church planting thing on top of it. Those two options have been there for me for a while now, and I’m good with either of them. But my lilttle moment of clarity the other day came when I said, “You know what? I actually have the freedom to go back into a regular, traditional church context, doing ‘full-time ministry.'”

I’m still re-experiencing my “angry young man” stage, and I’m still pretty bent at what the church in America has put together. And yet, I actually think my renewed anger is beyond the rebellious/revolutionary indignation that I used to feel. My anger is now tinted with grief and sorrow and compassion.

If I were to get hired by some traditional church, I’m pretty sure I’d still need to love them with my size 11 Doc Martens. But I can honestly say that it would love. Instead of saying, “I can’t believe how selfish, prideful, and petty you people are! You really bother me right now” I could say, “I’m sick to my stomach at the way we’ve bought into a wrong set of values. There’s a better way right in front of us, but it means discomfort, sacrifice, and a different mentality. We’ve settled for a sham. Let’s agree to love one another enough to get over this crap. This way is harder, but make no mistake – it is better.”

More easily said than done, I know. I have no idea whether this will ever happen. All I’m saying is that God has brought me far enough to where I have the freedom now to do it.

I’ve spent the last couple of days learning and playing with a web design program in order to go live with our new church website. It’s been fun and I’ve picked things up pretty quickly. We’ll see if I’m able to actually put a decent site together when it’s all said and done.

Whew! I didn’t get assigned to a case yesterday, so my civic duty is now complete.

I was thinking this morning about how much of my devotional life is spent in pursuit of getting something from God – blessing, good feelings, understanding, wisdom, whatever. This isn’t necessarily wrong, but I often settle for less than the best in this regard. It doesn’t occur to me that maybe I’m there for God’s benefit, and not just the other way around. Do I use God? It would be better to worship him. Now, if as a result of my worship and right devotion I receive wisdom, understanding, good feelings, and blessings, that’s all the better. I just tend to get things out of order.

I’ve gone through a bunch of the questioning of my role in the Kingdom vs. my role as a citizen of the U.S. in the past year or so. Here’s another question I get to ponder today. What about Jury Duty? Yep, I get to ponder it today . . . all day . . . and hopefully only today.

O.k., now that I’ve shot my mouth off about more television stuff, and told the world that I’ll be taping a TV show tonight, Jason has brought me some much needed humility by giving me a better suggestion. Turn off the television.

As sort of a follow up to my article over on Next-Wave this month, one of the things that has always struck me about the whole “reality” TV genre is what a mediated reality it really is. The creator and executive producer of Survivor and The Apprentice, Mark Burnett, won’t even discuss “reality TV”, but insists on the term “unscripted drama” when discussing his shows. Notice that he says “unscripted” and not “unedited”. Major, major difference. It’s not just that some of the things we see on the show – the conflicts or romances or whatever – seem to be artificially staged, but also that the things we aren’t seeing in the final shows is frequently more true than what we do see. Now, obviously, nobody would watch Survivor if they didn’t edit out what happens most on the show – a group of hungry, dirty, tired contestants flopping around on the beach bored for hours on end, waiting for the next challenge. But the way the shows are edited actually alters the reality contained in them. Certain players are portrayed as cunning, while others are portrayed as innocent. Even in the non-competetive shows, the editing is extensive. If those guys that build the funky motorcycles weren’t yelling at each other at least a couple of times in each episode, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun to watch, but are we really to believe that life around the shop is really that intense constantly? If that’s the case, then we’d likely see more visits from the local law enforcement team on the show.

Anway, with that as a backdrop, I just saw a little article in the local paper about the new reality TV series that debuts tonight on A&E – Family Plots. Its a show that follows a family run mortuary. As it turns out, it’s a mortuary in the San Diego area – one that I’ve worked with on several occasions. I know these people – not very well, mind you, but when I’m having coffee at the Starbucks closest to their business and they stop in, they always greet me – the director, in particular . . . “Oh hello, reverend. It’s so nice to see you again. I know I always say this, but you have the greatest glasses.” That always creeps me out. These people are the only ones that have ever addressed me with the title reverend. The last time I saw them, I was wearing a surfer sweatshirt, a baseball cap, and my eyebrow ring, and they still recognized me and greeted me, “Good morning reverend.” “O.k., really, STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

They’re nice enough folks, and I’ve had pretty good experiences with them. I will say this, though – if my experiences with them are consistent with what the cameras catch on tape, this may be an interesting show. They’re a bit quirky. Good folks, but definitely quirky. The show is on a little late for me, but I’ll tape it. It’ll be fun to see how my reality compares with A&E’s.

I keep meaning to take our digital camera with me “into town”, but forget when the time comes. Since I’m afraid the moment will be lost by the time I actually do remember, I’ll just write about it. Ramona is the back woods area of San Diego. It’s very much like the Midwest – pretty rural, but not out of touch with metro life. But every time you start thinking that the ol’ hometown may be getting a little more hip, you pass by the road off of Main Street (yes, the main street in Ramona is actually called Main Street) with all the mailboxes – as in the 25 mailboxes which stand crookedly, each on a post sticking out of a five gallon bucket of concrete. The other day, while driving home, I noticed a home made sign stuck to a stop sign. Torn cardboard with the scrawl of black ink or paint:

FOUND

PIG

789-#####