A Little Bit of Light

A dropped a little coin on a new Chromebook last week and offset the cost by selling my old one. I got it on Monday.

Five minutes with it in my dusty, cluttered office was more than I could stand. I could feel lit judging me. So I spent big blocks of time on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday making the office suitable for my shiny new tool. Four boxes full of books I want for mostly for the name on the spine are gone. The place smells like lemony Clorox wipes.

The impetus for change can come from just a taste, right? A little sip of purpose or direction, a nibble on a corner of control, and the status quo doesn’t work anymore. Everything must reorient to be like the new thing.

I’m not talking about icon packs to match your cell phone’s wallpaper.

Just a little bit of light under the door can compel us to throw open every window in the house.

Pizza And Pop

The Diamond Dogs won their 6:30 semifinal game last night and set themselves up to play in the championship game at 9:00. 90 minutes between games. Some went home for a brief recovery, but most stayed at the field watching the other semifinal game. Some had the common sense to wear jackets or sweatshirts against the January chill. Others did not.

They stood around, sat around, laid around, and the game in progress quickly became a laugher. Someone said they secretly wished for a loss earlier so they could be home by now. Someone else checked their watch and groaned for the 4:15 alarm already set for the next morning.

Then the Dogs’ manager appeared with two hot pizzas. Someone retrieved a Pepsi 12 pack from their car, and a grown up pizza party materialized on the top row of cold metal bleachers. Conversations quickened and limbs loosened up. On the field, the winning team was running up the score and threatening a championship game fight, but the Dogs weren’t worried. They had pizza and pop. They’d already won.

*Note: second place in the bottom rung league is nothing to laugh about

ICON: Resolve

Last night I attended a delegates’ assembly of the Inland Communities Organizing Network (ICON), the community organizing group that my congregation has been helping to launch since early 2011. Four years in, and the “Founders Convention” is later this year. This is slow work.

Last night, ICON leaders shared stories of what we’ve done so far: built a high-skilled jobs training program; significantly altered plans for a proposed waste transfer station; agitated for thousands of street lights. The stories were full of frank admissions of failure, because the high-skilled jobs still don’t pay enough to live on and the waste transfer station was supposed to be blocked. This is community organizing work. It’s takes a long time and you often lose.

But the assembly was a joyful one, because the leaders of ICON aren’t motivated by bitterness or anger but rather a resolve to make things better where we live. That’s the word that keeps coming back to me about what ICON is building: resolve. Now we have a task force pushing for a moratorium on recycling and waste management facilities in the city with a win already under its belt.

Resolve: I’ll take all I can get.

Needs Help

specialofferings1_medium250The Presbyterian Church (USA) is taking a beating this week over the marketing materials it published for its campaign of special denominational offerings. Two images in particular have drawn widespread condemnation on social media and in statements by groups like the National Hispanic/Latino Caucus of the PC(USA).

The ads are being condemned as racist and insensitive to the struggles of addicts. They are being denounced as flashy and edgy attempts at relevance that achieve gross insensitivity instead.

More informed people than I can speak on the decision making that led to these ads, because I honestly don’t know any of the people involved and I don’t have any reason to doubt their integrity. But here’s what I’m tucking up under my own hat from this episode: as compelling as the justification may be for doing something unconventional and perhaps out of bounds–you’re trying to save lives; you’re trying to save souls–, if the product can’t pass the nose-crinkle test it isn’t worth doing.

We have a copy of this poster in our office. It came in the mail last week and has been sitting atop the office counter untouched for days. After spending the morning reading angry screeds on Facebook, I grabbed the above image and showed it to our church’s Office Manager, the sweetest conservative evangelical middle-aged white woman you’d ever want to meet who’s not even a member of our church.

specialofferings2_medium250“What do you think of that?” I asked her. She studied it for a moment and then–as if involuntarily–her nose crinkled up into an uncomfortable stance and she said, “Hmmm. That’s interesting.” Confident there was more there, I pressed her: “Say more.”

“It gives me a bad feeling.”

Not “offensive.” Not “insensitive.” Not “racist.”

“It gives me a bad feeling.”

Nose-crinkle test: failed. Done. Scrap the campaign. Go in another direction.

Perhaps these images were shown to focus groups before they were published and distributed. I don’t know. But “It gives me a bad feeling” is precisely the kind of thing a focus group will tell you. And that’s more than enough to guarantee that whatever kind of motivation or inspiration or compassion you’re trying to elicit is going to be harpooned by the icky feeling people get first and that the damage to your mission isn’t worth it.

The denomination has issued a statement to the effect that the campaign will be redone. Unfortunately, the bad feelings it has already created won’t go away as easily as paper.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Stuff I learned on Sunday

A microphone is too strong a temptation for a six year-old child. If you use one during Children’s Time, and if you sit atop the chancel steps with children huddled around you, at least one of them will be unable to resist the urge to get their face within range of that magic stick so that they can answer the question, “Do you know what God did then?” with, “Boo!”

And that will be the correct answer.

You Don’t Get To Choose What Your People Are Excited About

You might want your people–your congregation, your family, your readers–to be excited about the things that excite you. Cultural critique; synth pop; public school reform. They might be. Or they might not.

Maybe they’re into urban farming and video gaming and scrapbooking.

It’s much better to be with people who are excited about something and have an ample supply of energy to do that thing than it is to persuade disinterested people to like the thing you like. For sure, be clear on what energizes you and find ways to do that; some of your people may be as excited about Karl Barth or single origin estate coffee as you are. But also listen carefully for what your people thrive on, and hang around kicking the dirt til someone invites you to try it.

You might like it.

The Virtues of The Office

This New York Magazine piece offers a caution against the rush to make everyone entrepreneurs. It’s worth the read. Here’s a money quote:

Offices are fundamentally social ­places, and in an age of dwindling social capital, in which Americans are less and less apt to visit with neighbors, join civic organizations, or have their friends over to dinner, having a community of professional peers is no small thing.

My friend and colleague MaryAnn announced this week she’s venturing out on her own, launching herself into full-time freelance writing, editing, speaking, and consulting. She’s going to kill that gig (she’s already got a book and an appearance on PBS under her belt).

I’ll be wishing her well as I goof around with the Church Custodian and shout questions to my Head of Staff across the hall.

I fear I’m an office creature.

Tell Me A Story

Laura started the first Harry Potter book two nights ago and begged me not to stop reading. Against my better judgment I yielded, and again last night it was the same; we’ve plowed through 75 pages in two sessions, and she’s pleading–“Pleasepleaseplease!”–with me to read on. One more chapter. Five more minutes. I relish the role of storyteller. She will be sleepy in the morning.

Do we tell our stories so that eager listeners press us to continue? Is this how we tell the gospel stories?

I think it’s more about loving the role of storyteller than it is any particular technique. My friend Angel eats up this up more than anyone I know. A couple years ago he did a YouTube video where he read Happy Potter–just read the book on camera, with all these surprising voices and everything (listen below). He was responsible for one of the readings in our Christmas Eve service, and beforehand he asked me, “How do you want me to read this?”

Most of us don’t consider there’s more than one way to tell the story. The storyteller knows there are as many ways as she wants there to be.

Everything Is Flawed

Every system is flawed.

Look long enough at a diet plan and fuzzy scientific claims emerge. Spend a few days in the local high school, and weaknesses in the curriculum can’t hide. Attend a worship service with a local faith community and flaws are inevitable: coldness, perhaps, or even just a bad sound system.

It seems to me that we have three options when navigating flawed systems that we should care about. We can walk away from the flaws in search of a version with fewer (of just different) flaws. Change schools. Change churches. Change streaming music services.

We could also dig into the flawed system to fix it. Join the PTA. Volunteer. Send letters and emails.

But there’s a third option beyond ditching it and working to fix it. We can always embrace the flaws. We can always choose to leave the flaws alone and commit to the diet plan or the bed time routine anyway, without straining to fix what’s wrong.

Which is better, then? Adopting a system in order to change what’s wrong with it, or with eyes wide open about its shortcomings and committed all the same?

Monday Morning Quarterback

Stuff I learned on Sunday

If you invite worshipers to come forward so that you, the minister, might pray for them, one of them might pounce upon the end of your whispered prayer for her ailment and truncate your warm smile and your assuring squeeze of her arm in order to launch into her own prayer for you, the minister, that God would bless you and your ministry.

Just saying that could happen.