This is more a musing than anything important, but I find myself wondering from time to time how deep I really am. Is this something that we can really know for ourselves? Judging by the responses I get from some people, I would consider myself fairly deep. But I know myself. I know how mundane most of my thoughts are. Not deep stuff. Then I find myself wondering if I'm deeper than I think I am. I mean, my deepest thoughts are common to me. Does that familiarity mask the quality of my thinking?
I remember being on a discussion panel for a worship conference where I presented the idea of knowing the spiritual gifts of my worship team members so that the function they served in a team was consistent with their spiritual gifting. I mentioned a few practical examples of how this had been used in our ministry with great results. You'd have thought I had made some revolutionary discovery based on the response of the people in that session. The idea of using people within a worship team according to their spiritual gifts was common to me, but a whole new way of thinking for them.
I don't think I'll ever be able to answer the question, but it is a fun thing to mull over that, ultimately, doesn't really matter.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
Ballet and abstract storytelling
Amy finally got her Christmas present on Friday when we went to see Butler Ballet's production of "Swan Lake" at Clowes Memorial Hall. I don't know if my stock just rose or fell on my admission that I went to the ballet, but I'm man enough to say that I went to the ballet AND I LIKED IT! I was a bit distracted by the men in tights and told Amy that if I was a male ballet dancer, I would definitely be stuffing. The Indianapolis Chamber Orchestra did a great job with a very challenging score of four acts which lasted the better part of three hours. The only gripe I had with the orchestra was the conductor who was very vocal in his articulated breathing to aid his direction of the orchestra. Of course, we were sitting in the third row, so had we been farther back, we probably wouln't have noticed.
It did strike me how absurd ballet is as a form of storytelling. Nobody says anything, the only concrete plot is spelled out in the program and, in Amy's words, "there seems to be a lot of unnecessary dancing," meaning that they feature a lot of solo and ensemble dances that do nothing to advance the plot. I can't really be critical of ballet as abstract storytelling since one of my favorite pieces of music in the world is Berlioz's "Symphonie fantastique" which is a symphony trying to tell a story which relies even more heavily upon the information in the program than ballet.
Amy and I had been to "Madame Butterfly" (the Puccini opera) in November in the same building as the ballet and it definitely had a huge advantage over "Swan Lake" in the storytelling department. Even with all of the unnecessary singing, you could follow the plot without the use of the bulletin (but not without the use of the subtitles that they displayed above the stage since the opera was in Italian). I found moments in "Swan Lake" that I wished there were subtitles, but instead only got interpretive movement.
Even so, I find myself wondering what different people might have taken away from the evening. Some probably took away a sense of awe at the beauty of the physical/artistic display they had seen. It was performed very well (from a non-afficianado's point of view) and obviously required great discipline and study on the part of the performers. Some probably simply felt better about themselves for having endured a high-brow artistic endeavor. Some probably left thinking about how sad the story was without any understanding why they felt that way.
I left with the joy of my bride as my main concern as we too rarely get to take in artistic performances that remind us of our former lives as classical musicians. I also left full of God. I saw God in the longing pursuit of the Prince, Siegfried, for the Swan Princess, Odette. I saw the deception of the garden as Siegfried fell under the spell of Rothbart and betrayed his love by declaring it to another. I saw the deaths of Odette and Siegfried parallel the death of Christ and our death to self to be with Him forever. I saw that sacrificial love destroy the power of Rothbart like the sacrificial love of Christ destroying the power of sin and death. I guess I saw a fair amount in the abstract storytelling that I saw.
It did strike me how absurd ballet is as a form of storytelling. Nobody says anything, the only concrete plot is spelled out in the program and, in Amy's words, "there seems to be a lot of unnecessary dancing," meaning that they feature a lot of solo and ensemble dances that do nothing to advance the plot. I can't really be critical of ballet as abstract storytelling since one of my favorite pieces of music in the world is Berlioz's "Symphonie fantastique" which is a symphony trying to tell a story which relies even more heavily upon the information in the program than ballet.
Amy and I had been to "Madame Butterfly" (the Puccini opera) in November in the same building as the ballet and it definitely had a huge advantage over "Swan Lake" in the storytelling department. Even with all of the unnecessary singing, you could follow the plot without the use of the bulletin (but not without the use of the subtitles that they displayed above the stage since the opera was in Italian). I found moments in "Swan Lake" that I wished there were subtitles, but instead only got interpretive movement.
Even so, I find myself wondering what different people might have taken away from the evening. Some probably took away a sense of awe at the beauty of the physical/artistic display they had seen. It was performed very well (from a non-afficianado's point of view) and obviously required great discipline and study on the part of the performers. Some probably simply felt better about themselves for having endured a high-brow artistic endeavor. Some probably left thinking about how sad the story was without any understanding why they felt that way.
I left with the joy of my bride as my main concern as we too rarely get to take in artistic performances that remind us of our former lives as classical musicians. I also left full of God. I saw God in the longing pursuit of the Prince, Siegfried, for the Swan Princess, Odette. I saw the deception of the garden as Siegfried fell under the spell of Rothbart and betrayed his love by declaring it to another. I saw the deaths of Odette and Siegfried parallel the death of Christ and our death to self to be with Him forever. I saw that sacrificial love destroy the power of Rothbart like the sacrificial love of Christ destroying the power of sin and death. I guess I saw a fair amount in the abstract storytelling that I saw.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Observations from today's ride
I went for a ride this morning of about 25 miles and really feel my strength returning as I topped my previous average speed by .6 mph and got faster as the ride went on. As I've shared before, I love the bike because it is a place for me to escape and find some space to think, pray and hear what God has to teach me.
Today, I was riding past a grove of trees and remembered an early season ride past there last year. At this time of year, you can sometimes spot deer through the leafless trees a little way into the grove and on that particular ride I happened to startle one that was very near the road and got a good, upclose look. As I rode past today, I thought about how great it would be to see a deer this morning. I quickly thought of how early in my faith, I would think something like that almost to test God, sort of a "if you really love me, you'll let me see a deer" kind of thing. Childish, I know, but there were many times that it happened and I thanked God for that visible reminder of His love for me. There are times now when I see a deer on a ride and I'm reawakened to the childlike faith that was stirred up in me at times like that.
Today's experience was a bit different. I had the initial thought and immediately brushed it off as somewhat childish. About five miles later I was on the Sweetser Switch when something at a nearby farm caught my eye. There in a pen were two deer (ears tagged) only about 20 yards from the trail. I was somewhat surprised since I've ridden past there a lot in the last few years and had never seen them there. I'm still not sure how long they have been there or for what purpose, but I found myself conflicted. I love to see deer on rides, but did this somehow devalue the experience? They are the same as the animals I had hoped to see confined to a grove of trees, but by being in a pen they seemed less special.
I began to consider how God sometimes gives us what we have asked for, but in unexpected, unasked for ways. Sometimes He gives us the very thing we desired only so we can realize how poor a substitue it is for what we really need and long for. I really didn't need to see a deer to trust in His love for me. The sacrifice of Jesus on the cross was a far greater sign than anything that could be shown to me on a back road in Indiana.
Today, I was riding past a grove of trees and remembered an early season ride past there last year. At this time of year, you can sometimes spot deer through the leafless trees a little way into the grove and on that particular ride I happened to startle one that was very near the road and got a good, upclose look. As I rode past today, I thought about how great it would be to see a deer this morning. I quickly thought of how early in my faith, I would think something like that almost to test God, sort of a "if you really love me, you'll let me see a deer" kind of thing. Childish, I know, but there were many times that it happened and I thanked God for that visible reminder of His love for me. There are times now when I see a deer on a ride and I'm reawakened to the childlike faith that was stirred up in me at times like that.
Today's experience was a bit different. I had the initial thought and immediately brushed it off as somewhat childish. About five miles later I was on the Sweetser Switch when something at a nearby farm caught my eye. There in a pen were two deer (ears tagged) only about 20 yards from the trail. I was somewhat surprised since I've ridden past there a lot in the last few years and had never seen them there. I'm still not sure how long they have been there or for what purpose, but I found myself conflicted. I love to see deer on rides, but did this somehow devalue the experience? They are the same as the animals I had hoped to see confined to a grove of trees, but by being in a pen they seemed less special.
I began to consider how God sometimes gives us what we have asked for, but in unexpected, unasked for ways. Sometimes He gives us the very thing we desired only so we can realize how poor a substitue it is for what we really need and long for. I really didn't need to see a deer to trust in His love for me. The sacrifice of Jesus on the cross was a far greater sign than anything that could be shown to me on a back road in Indiana.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Get set...
Today was our first day as "lame duck" staff at Hanfield. I spent a little bit of time going over some files and books to try to get a sense of what is going with us and what is staying. Our last day as staff is May 31, but I don't want to leave all of the house cleaning until the last week that we are at work, so I thought I'd get a start. I'm hoping to develop a secondary "to do" list to supplement the weekly one that I keep to help me organize what we need to do over the next six weeks. I really want to leave things in the best possible condition so that whoever takes on the responsibility will have everything that we can give to carry things forward.
I had lunch with Brent Williams and was blessed to hear his perspective on some things that I think will help us as we prepare and also will help us recommend some direction for what the transition looks like. Brent has always been a great friend and valuable team member, so I really appreciated his insight and also some of his personal affirmation for what might be ahead of us.
I'm feeling a little more focused today after a good night's sleep. It's amazing to me how just getting this out in the open has made things feel different. I'm taking a little extra time with people because I want to squeeze everything out of our time together that I can. We also contacted a realtor who will be by on Thursday to take a look at the house, so the house is feeling less like ours as we consider what we need to do to get it ready for someone else.
There are moments I wish I could freeze dry and keep and others where the call ahead is so strong that I can't wait to cast off what I carry now so that I can move faster. Those that have left somewhere or someone they love will be able to identify, but I'm not sure I totally understand it. We find ourselves telling the old stories for the first time in years as we try to recapture and celebrate some of the feeling, comradery and joy of those times, yet we find ourselves talking about a future we never intended; one that has been given to us like a treasure hunt that calls us forward and makes us wonder what's buried under the X.
The "get set" phase has begun. "Go" is coming faster than we know.
I had lunch with Brent Williams and was blessed to hear his perspective on some things that I think will help us as we prepare and also will help us recommend some direction for what the transition looks like. Brent has always been a great friend and valuable team member, so I really appreciated his insight and also some of his personal affirmation for what might be ahead of us.
I'm feeling a little more focused today after a good night's sleep. It's amazing to me how just getting this out in the open has made things feel different. I'm taking a little extra time with people because I want to squeeze everything out of our time together that I can. We also contacted a realtor who will be by on Thursday to take a look at the house, so the house is feeling less like ours as we consider what we need to do to get it ready for someone else.
There are moments I wish I could freeze dry and keep and others where the call ahead is so strong that I can't wait to cast off what I carry now so that I can move faster. Those that have left somewhere or someone they love will be able to identify, but I'm not sure I totally understand it. We find ourselves telling the old stories for the first time in years as we try to recapture and celebrate some of the feeling, comradery and joy of those times, yet we find ourselves talking about a future we never intended; one that has been given to us like a treasure hunt that calls us forward and makes us wonder what's buried under the X.
The "get set" phase has begun. "Go" is coming faster than we know.
Lance Retires
I just finished watching the coverage on OLN of Lance Armstrong's press conference in Augusta, Georgia where he's getting ready for the Tour de Georgia. Lance announced that this year's Tour de France will be his last race as a pro cyclist. As a fan of Lance and as a fan of cycling I can't help but feel a bit sad. I was a fan of his when he was a 16 year old competing against guys like Dave Scott, Mark Allen and Scott Tinley in professional triathlons. I was thrilled when he decided to focus on the bike and went pro. His win at the 1993 World Championships was a remarkable win for a guy so young. I remember his stage win in 1995 days after his teammate, Fabio Casartelli, died on a mountain descent during the race. The determination and passion I saw on days like those made me proud to be a fan of the sport.
I remember his press conference when he announced that he had testicular cancer. I remember how it floored me that a guy in his mid-20's (my age at the time) could be among the most fit athletes in the world and yet become so sick. I kept track of him when Confidis (the French pro team) dropped him like a bad habit while he went through chemo. I remember how happy I was that he had signed with the Postal team and would get another shot at a pro career. I remember how shocked I was that he won the Tour's prologue time trial in '99 and how proud and excited I was to see an American cyclist back in the yellow jersey for the first time since Greg LeMond.
I remember his battle with Pantani on seemingly every climb as the '98 winner battled the '99 winner on the sport's grandest stage. I remember 2000 when Ullrich went head first into a culvert on a descent and Lance's response in waiting and making sure Jan was safe before continuing to push the race onward. I remember "the look" he gave Ullrich as he rode him off his wheel on another stage. I remember Lance and Heras destroying the field and eventually dropping Beloki on the way to victory in 2002.
I remember the tense conditions and troubles the Postal team had in 2003 when Lance went on to win number 5. Brake pads rubbing on the wheel up mountainsides, dehydration kicking in, the crash where Lance was pulled down by a kid's mussette bag on the final major climb of the tour which could have been his undoing, but instead gave him a surge of adrenaline that he used to drop everybody else on the mountain. I remember the look of joy/relief on the final time trial, the day before the Tour ended, when Ullrich hit the deck on a slick corner and Lance was able to relax and just concentrate on staying upright.
I remember Lance and Basso last year on two consecutive stages coming to the top of climbs. Basso got the first, Lance the second. I remember Lance taking Basso and Ullrich out at the top of another mountain finish. I remember watching the first time trial over Alpe d'Huez in the history of the Tour worried that Lance might be attacked by one of the million fans out on the course, but knowing that if he wasn't, he would destroy the field and possibly set a new record for the climb of one of the Tour's most fabled mountains. I remember Lance, Floyd Landis (his teammate), Ullrich and Andreas Kloden (both on the German T-Mobile team) screaming down a descent near the end of a stage, Kloden making a phenomenal move with about one kilometer left that should have won the day except for the strength of a possessed Lance screaming toward the finish and taking out one of the most dramatic stage wins I've ever seen.
I wonder what this year's memories will be. Will it be a ceremonial victory lap as Lance closes out his career by losing the Tour for the first time since he started winning it? Don't bet on it. I want to see a Jordan vs. Utah ending where arguably the greatest Tour rider ever finishes the job and ends as the Patron (boss) of the Tour that he has been. I want to see him win a few more stages as he squeezes the last moments from a competitive nature that is second to none. I want to see him raise his hands in a victory salute on the Champs-Elysees that is immortalized in the minds of the world as one of the greatest exits an athlete has ever made.
I'm probably more sentimental about this right now since we announced our leaving to the congregation yesterday. Lance's re-entry into the pro peleton after cancer and retirement this year parallel our timeline here. It will be hard for a lot of American cyclists to lose the one cyclist that causes people to want to engage in conversation about cycling. It will be hard for me because it feels like another piece of my identity that I leave behind.
I remember his press conference when he announced that he had testicular cancer. I remember how it floored me that a guy in his mid-20's (my age at the time) could be among the most fit athletes in the world and yet become so sick. I kept track of him when Confidis (the French pro team) dropped him like a bad habit while he went through chemo. I remember how happy I was that he had signed with the Postal team and would get another shot at a pro career. I remember how shocked I was that he won the Tour's prologue time trial in '99 and how proud and excited I was to see an American cyclist back in the yellow jersey for the first time since Greg LeMond.
I remember his battle with Pantani on seemingly every climb as the '98 winner battled the '99 winner on the sport's grandest stage. I remember 2000 when Ullrich went head first into a culvert on a descent and Lance's response in waiting and making sure Jan was safe before continuing to push the race onward. I remember "the look" he gave Ullrich as he rode him off his wheel on another stage. I remember Lance and Heras destroying the field and eventually dropping Beloki on the way to victory in 2002.
I remember the tense conditions and troubles the Postal team had in 2003 when Lance went on to win number 5. Brake pads rubbing on the wheel up mountainsides, dehydration kicking in, the crash where Lance was pulled down by a kid's mussette bag on the final major climb of the tour which could have been his undoing, but instead gave him a surge of adrenaline that he used to drop everybody else on the mountain. I remember the look of joy/relief on the final time trial, the day before the Tour ended, when Ullrich hit the deck on a slick corner and Lance was able to relax and just concentrate on staying upright.
I remember Lance and Basso last year on two consecutive stages coming to the top of climbs. Basso got the first, Lance the second. I remember Lance taking Basso and Ullrich out at the top of another mountain finish. I remember watching the first time trial over Alpe d'Huez in the history of the Tour worried that Lance might be attacked by one of the million fans out on the course, but knowing that if he wasn't, he would destroy the field and possibly set a new record for the climb of one of the Tour's most fabled mountains. I remember Lance, Floyd Landis (his teammate), Ullrich and Andreas Kloden (both on the German T-Mobile team) screaming down a descent near the end of a stage, Kloden making a phenomenal move with about one kilometer left that should have won the day except for the strength of a possessed Lance screaming toward the finish and taking out one of the most dramatic stage wins I've ever seen.
I wonder what this year's memories will be. Will it be a ceremonial victory lap as Lance closes out his career by losing the Tour for the first time since he started winning it? Don't bet on it. I want to see a Jordan vs. Utah ending where arguably the greatest Tour rider ever finishes the job and ends as the Patron (boss) of the Tour that he has been. I want to see him win a few more stages as he squeezes the last moments from a competitive nature that is second to none. I want to see him raise his hands in a victory salute on the Champs-Elysees that is immortalized in the minds of the world as one of the greatest exits an athlete has ever made.
I'm probably more sentimental about this right now since we announced our leaving to the congregation yesterday. Lance's re-entry into the pro peleton after cancer and retirement this year parallel our timeline here. It will be hard for a lot of American cyclists to lose the one cyclist that causes people to want to engage in conversation about cycling. It will be hard for me because it feels like another piece of my identity that I leave behind.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Telling the Church
Today was the day that we told the congregation about our move. Tim decided that rather than preach a sermon, we'd take extra time to talk about where we're headed, how we came to Hanfield in the first place and challenge the congregation to consider where God may be calling them to "jump." We followed that with an extended prayer time and testimony time. More tears, hugs and conversations than I can process right now. I'm experiencing so many different things right now that I seem to just be grabbing onto whatever emotion seems to be strongest and going with it.
It was an exhausting day, but a good one. I'm glad that everything is finally out in the open so that we can begin to prepare for the move. We'll probably see a realtor tomorrow and take it from there.
I'm hoping I'll have a little more to write this week. I just haven't had a lot of mental energy to do it. Emotionally, I'm drained. I'm hoping that after this initial wave of being overwhelmed, some energy will return. I'm really wanting to begin to assess what needs to be done at the church to get things ready to transition. That will probably be a big push this week, but I'll start worrying about that in the morning.
It was an exhausting day, but a good one. I'm glad that everything is finally out in the open so that we can begin to prepare for the move. We'll probably see a realtor tomorrow and take it from there.
I'm hoping I'll have a little more to write this week. I just haven't had a lot of mental energy to do it. Emotionally, I'm drained. I'm hoping that after this initial wave of being overwhelmed, some energy will return. I'm really wanting to begin to assess what needs to be done at the church to get things ready to transition. That will probably be a big push this week, but I'll start worrying about that in the morning.
Friday, April 15, 2005
Sioux Falls contact
Just got off the phone with Derk Stevenson in Sioux Falls. Derk is a former Vineyard pastor who is currently involved in itinerant ministry teaching about healing and the gifts of the Spirit. It was a good conversation. I'm glad to have had a chance to touch base with him and find out a little more about what he does, what the group in Sioux Falls is like and share with him about the calling that we feel to artists in Sioux Falls.
The group that is interested in a Vineyard church plant is about 15 strong that meets as a home group but attends a few different churches. I'm looking forward to getting a chance to meet a few of them and see what develops. I haven't totally closed the door to the possibility of being a lead pastor, but I really feel I need to make sure that it's something that God is calling me to. The prospect of a "tent making" job and the responsibilities of leading a church plant might make it difficult to do the ministry to artists that I'm really sensing is what God is calling us to. The bigger idea that is currently scaring me (in a healthy way) is the idea that the two ministries would be connected (i.e. the ministry to artists leads into pastoring a church plant). A true vision should be too big for you. If you feel like you can handle it, it probably isn't God.
More to sleep on I guess.
The group that is interested in a Vineyard church plant is about 15 strong that meets as a home group but attends a few different churches. I'm looking forward to getting a chance to meet a few of them and see what develops. I haven't totally closed the door to the possibility of being a lead pastor, but I really feel I need to make sure that it's something that God is calling me to. The prospect of a "tent making" job and the responsibilities of leading a church plant might make it difficult to do the ministry to artists that I'm really sensing is what God is calling us to. The bigger idea that is currently scaring me (in a healthy way) is the idea that the two ministries would be connected (i.e. the ministry to artists leads into pastoring a church plant). A true vision should be too big for you. If you feel like you can handle it, it probably isn't God.
More to sleep on I guess.
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