God’s Sarcasm
I have a new favorite comic. Not the whole series, a specific strip.
Why do I like this particular comic so much? The kid, Slick, starts out sad because the world sucks so much. He gets ticked and starts screaming at God, and God throws up a hand puppet and mocks him. Isn’t that horrible? Some of my conservative friends are offended that I used the word suck, and they’re more offended that this kid is yelling at God. Some of my liberal friends are offended because God is pictured as a sarcastic jerk who mocks our pain.
Me? I love it. Look at that last frame, where God pulls out the sarcasm. Look at Slick’s face. He’s smiling! That’s me. Totally.
The world sucks. If you’re not seeing that, then you’re either amazingly sheltered or willfully blind. Lots of good stuff too, for sure, but nothing to counterbalance hatred, disease, poverty, and death. It’s not even close. Yet here I am, raised to believe that a loving God is ultimately in charge. So I say to God, basically, “Life is SUCKING!!” Except I say it nicer than that because, you know, he’s God. God knows what I was going to say, but I think he appreciates the effort. (And yes I know God isn’t male, stop being pedantic or go away.)
And you know what God says back? Well, nothing really. Nothing I could point to and say “Thus sayeth the Lord.” (Part of me would love to be that kind of prophet, and part of me is still too scared to ask. Read the book. It sucks to be a prophet.) It’s just feelings, intuitions, coincidences, thoughts, scriptures, insights, even the odd dream and it all adds up to something very like that comic.
God is funny.
And sarcastic.
And some days, exactly what I need to get myself off my whiney butt and back in the fight is for God to go, “Boo hoo hoo. Life is soooo hard for you. Booo hoo hooo!” Maybe I’m weird. Ok, I know I’m weird. But that’s the God I know.
Open Source Sermon Retrospective
First thing: thank you! It was a blast working with all of you to create something new. Reaction on Sunday morning was very good and I’m still getting comments from people. I am convinced that it was a stronger, more compelling sermon because of your involvement, and I’m very happy to pronounce the experiment a success. (Here’s the text and video in case you missed it)
How did it go? As I said above, response from the congregation was strong and positive. As for how it went from my perspective in the pulpit, it was fun and a little scary. I found myself a little more tied to my manuscript than usual because I wanted to honor everyones contributions. I also spoke more quickly than is normal for me because it was longer than my usual sermons. On the other hand, there was a sense of comfort or community because I felt like I was speaking for all of us. It felt like you were up there with me. (Yeah, cheesy, whatever. It’s true)
What did you do right? We took the time to lay the groundwork. In fact, we spent much more time on groundwork than we did on the actual sermon. We took our time picking a topic, picking texts, aligning principles and purpose. All those discussions and agreements meant that the sermon itself came together much more quickly and smoothly than I had expected. I can’t emphasize enough how important this was. From the very start I feared our experiment would result in a chaotic mishmash of conflicting ideas and spam. The fact that we wound up with a coherent and compelling sermon testifies to the integrity of the contributors and the hard work we did coming to consensus before we started writing the sermon.
What would you change?
- I wouldn’t use PBwiki again. Their customer support is great and they gave me excellent administrative controls, but a number of people complained about the interface. People had a hard time signing up, and once they signed up they had a hard time making edits. I think I’d try Wikia next time. Their interface is very clean and simple.
- I’d make the whole thing simpler. There was way too much “Click here, check there, sign up here, wait for confirmation, blah blah blah” when the whole reason people got involved was because it was a cool idea. People wanted to contribute! It was my job to make it as easy as possible for them to do so, and in my excitement I left way too many stumbling blocks laying around between them and their goal
- I would try to open it up to more involvement. A truly open source project would be less controlled and have many more contributors. I wasn’t brave enough for that on the first go, but I’d definitely take a step in that direction if we tried it again.
What did you learn? The Pareto principle is your friend. I spent a long time lamenting the 80/20 rule as it applied to church life, but this experiment renewed my perspective. A small, committed group did most of the heavy lifting. The members of that group shifted during each stage of the project, but there was always a core keeping things on track and pushing the project forward. Then there was a cloud of of interested observers, some were too busy, some were too shy, but whatever their reason they didn’t contribute in large ways. The crazy thing was, they contributed in their own little ways and all those tiny contributions made a big difference. Even if your only contribution was an idea that never made it into the final draft, your presence in the conversation made the whole thing stronger. Thank you.
Will you do it again? I honestly don’t know. Certainly I benefited from the experience, and the sermon was better for it, but I still have some real questions. Part of the reason the sermon worked was because it was about technology. Would a similar format work with a more traditional subject? Also, we spent almost two months on this thing! Most preachers I know spend a week on theirs. Would it still work in a shorter time window? Those aren’t deal-breakers. I hear some responses knocking around in the back of my head already, but I’d have to mull it over a bit before I said yes. For sure I wouldn’t do it the same way, but a second experiment is not out of the question.
What do you think? What did we do right? What could we do better? What did you learn? Should we try again?
P.S. - Thank you to everyone who linked to the project!
Emergent Village
Think Christian
The Church Geek
Gemeindearbeit
Ranges Community Church
Keep Your Eyes Open
Take a hint from fighter pilots. In a quickly changing environment, observation equals advantage. Any moment with the current reality differs from you original perception, there is an opportunity, because your observation is unique. Even if someone were intentionally observing the same thing at the same instant, they would be observing from a different perspective. If you discover no advantage, either shift your perspective, or wait.
Open Source Sermon: Topic Chosen
Deadline day. Today’s the day we choose the topic for the world’s first open source sermon. Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment, to make suggestions, and to critique. Here’s the full list of sermon topic proposals pulled from your comments.
- The church’s role in caring for the environment
- The possibility of life on other planets
- The laughter/humor of God
- Christianity vs. narcissism
- Food, fellowship, and eating disorders
- The body of Christ
Based on the comments, the top three suggestions were: the environment, the humor of God, and the body of Christ. I agree that the environment is an important topic, and one too often ignored in churches. On the other hand, I’m obviously interested in the idea of a God that laughs. (Hence the name of my blog!) But I think the body of Christ image has the most to offer in this context.
We are performing an experiment, a two way test. The net promises limitless information and collaboration, but do those promises apply to the church as well? Is Jesus welcome on the net? If not, then this experiment will fail. The open source processes that created elegant, complex software like Linux and Firefox will fail to produce a preachable sermon. All we’ll get is more of the triviality and purposeless argument that so often passes for content on the net.
But the test works both ways. The church promises connections too: peace and wholeness. The church promises more than information: truth, or at least wisdom. It promises we will be the body of Christ, and Christ will be our spiritual head. Then it hides those promises behind walls of bureaucracy and conformity. Is the net welcome in the church? If not, then this experiment will fail. The church that learned Latin, German, English, and thousands of other languages will fail to speak to the digital age. All we’ll get is more of the triviality and purposeless argument that so often passes for sermons on Sunday morning.
If we do it right, the sermon itself will become a meta-message of hope.
Congratulations! We’ve completed the first step. Our subject is the body of Christ in a digital age. Paul has already suggested a possible sermon title, “Jesus is my Facebook Friend”. Our next job is to find scriptures that speak insightfully to that topic. We need at least one Biblical text, but non-biblical texts are welcome as well. Put your suggestions in a comment to this post. The deadline is Aug 23 at noon, Central Standard Time (GMT-6) when I’ll choose the winner(s) with consideration both to the principles of the project and the general consensus of contributors.
Outsourcing Church
My last suggestions weren’t radical enough. The only pushback was Dave’s comment, “I guess the only one in your list I immediately balked at was the customization idea and the outsourcing idea, I could be reading it wrong, but it seems to demean the Church experience rather than enhance it.”
Economics teaches us that everyone benefits when people specialize. If I focus on sermons and the Beatles focus on songwriting, at the end of the year we write a large number of sermons and songs, some of which are good. If the Beatles and I don’t specialize, but try to do a little of both, we wind up with less total sermons and songs, and fewer of high quality. (On a side note, it’s oddly fun to write “the Beatles and I”.)
I’m not trying to demean the church. We already outsource. We let the preacher handle the sermons, the secretary handle the bulletin, the custodian handle the building. Sometimes we let talented volunteers step up: painters, carpenters, etc. But what if we didn’t limit ourselves to just church members, or local businesses?
What if you outsourced the sermon via the net? I know a lot of churches that can’t afford a full time minister. What would that even look like? I can’t imagine an aging country church gathering in the old building, watching a TV screen. Is there a situation where it would work? A strictly on-line church, maybe?
What if you outsourced the youth ministry? The majority of churches can’t pay a youth minister. Some churches already collaborate on youth events, but it would take an amazing amount of trust to send our kids to some other church for teaching. What if they never came back? What if they didn’t turn out like us? Is fear the only thing holding us back? Are we building God’s kingdom, or just protecting our institution?
What if you outsourced the book-keeping? I know way too many churches have no clue who their members are because their records are not up to date. A secondary advantage of outsourcing is that the specialists enforce appropriate standards. If we outsourced our financials, I bet those companies would require us to adopt some best practices to prevent fraud if for no other reason than to protect themselves from liability.
Are there some things that could never be outsourced? The sermon seems like a tough one in most contexts. The sacraments too, since by definition they’re live, in-person, experiences. No reason we all have to be in one room for board meetings. No reason we have to rely only on church members to do the administrative grunt work work of the church, especially if others can do it better. No reason that we all have to be in the same room to learn, or make friends. But the real work of the church (visiting the sick and the prisoner, serving the poor and the outcast , communal worship) cannot be digitized because we are not spiritual souls knocking around in a physical shell. I love my digital communities, but sometimes I need a hug.
The Church that Missed the Digital Age
In an earlier post, I talked about things hold value in a digital age, “generatives” that can’t be copied. From a Christian perspective, these are all chances to serve. Here’s my list of opportunities, and how we miss them.
- Having a wow experience: Was that a sermon or a sleep aid?
- Locality: If you church disappeared, would your neighborhood notice?
- Delivery: If by delivery, you mean we sit here and wait for you to show up, then sure.
- Personalization: What was your name again?
- Authenticity: Kids, behave. We’re in church.
- Rarity: A three point, alliterated sermon? What a delightful surprise!
- Immediacy: We’ll sing any hymn you want.
- Customization: Enjoy your pew.
- Interpretation: God said it, I believe it, that settles it.
- Simplicity: Going green? Great idea! Let’s run it past the subcommittee.
- Expertise: Well-trained to answer your questions about koine greek participles.
- Priority: Biblical wisdom whenever you want, as long as it’s Sunday at 9am.
- Prestige/Reputation: Every funeral, an opportunity advancement.
- Power/Control: If you value your life, do not anger the kitchen ladies.
- Patronage: You can’t change the light bulb; my grandmother donated that light bulb!
Yeah, yeah, it’s fun (and easy) to point out the problems of church life. But lets take this seriously for a second. Suppose for a second that the church actually wants to be a part of the digital age. (Come on, in an infinite number of universes there’s gotta be one, right?) What might that look like? Let’s brainstorm.
- Having a wow experience: Honestly, I’ve already had wow experiences in church. A spot-on sermon, a touching song, unexpected forgiveness, close friendships, peace in the storm. Of course, any time a church actually follows the teachings of Jesus and feeds the hungry, visits the prisoner, comforts the sick, protects the alien the fatherless and the widow, that’s pretty much guaranteed to make people say wow.
- Locality: What if we expected church members to live close enough that they could walk to church? Then they’d have a vested interest in improving the neighborhood. What if the church got involved in local festivals, not to advertise, but to serve?
- Delivery: If the people are on the web, why isn’t the church? If the people are in the pub, why isn’t the church?
- Personalization: If your church gets big enough that it’s impossible for people to know each other by name, then don’t start a new service; plant a new church.
- Authenticity: What if church weren’t the place where we put on our best face? What if church were the one place we felt safe enough to take off the mask? Moments like that don’t happen in a pew. Maybe on a retreat, or in a small group meeting at someone’s home, but not in a pew.
- Rarity: How about silence? I can get preached at whenever I want. I can get music I like whenever I want. But how often can I find silence? When I speak, how often do I feel like anyone is actually listening? How often does someone spend time with me without wanting anything from me?
- Immediacy: You can’t get more immediate than live, so that’s something. But what about sharing that immediacy with people who can’t/won’t go to church? Streaming services with live chat rooms?
- Customization: How about a service that is planned like a choose your own adventure, where the people choose what happens next?
- Interpretation: What if we posted the sermon on Monday, invited rebuttals from different schools of thought to be posted Wednesday, opened the whole thing for comments, and gleaned the best of it all to share on Sunday morning?
- Simplicity: Honestly, I’m a bit stumped here because Christianity was never meant to make your life easier. Just the opposite in fact. It’s much easier to go with the flow. Following the way of the cross means running counter to the world, and suffering for it, intentionally. Maybe the simplicity comes from admitting it instead of trying to dress it up like a get rich quick scheme.
- Expertise: What if we outsourced the church? Outsource the money to an accountant, the building to a maintenance specialist, the endowment to a fund raiser, the advertising to an ad agency, the events to an event planner, the boards to an HR firm specializing in the care and feeding of volunteers, and let the pastor focus on prayer, scripture, and getting both as deeply embedded into the life of the church as possible.
- Priority: Another tough one. “The first shall be last, those who wish to lead should serve,” and all that. Maybe the idea here is helping people feel like they’re a priority, and not just someone to call when we need something. Maybe you email sneak previews of the sermon to a randomly chosen group each week and honor their feedback.
- Prestige/Reputation: We’ve got titles galore, but they no longer mean anything to the community outside the congregation. I’m not at all interested in returning to the “glory days” when you had to go to church or suffer social consequences. That’s not faith. That’s conformity under duress. How about we hold each other accountable, and stop making it as easy to join a church as it is to join the local racquetball club?
- Power/Control: We’ve got this one backward. We’ve got power and control locked down. Let’s spread them around a bit. How about arranging the service in such a way that questions are allowed, more than one opinion heard? How about a survey of the neighborhood asking them what’s the most annoying thing we do, and then stop doing it?
- Patronage: I’m honestly torn on this one. “The workman deserves his pay,” sure, but doesn’t it compromise the message a bit? On the other hand, patronage is a simple method for accountability. Maybe we endow the pulpit the way you endow the chair of a university? The pastor is still accountable to the congregation, but any growth doesn’t benefit him/her financially.
What do you think? Any in there worth exploring? Got any crazy ideas of your own to add?
Charting the edges of the internet.
Kevin Kelly wrote a post that really got my brain twisting. His root claim is “The net makes digital copies free, so value lies only in things that can’t be copied.” Then he lists 8 uncopyable “generatives” that people can still use to make money in the digital age. Not exactly true, (especially the way he completely dismisses copyright) but I think I smell some truth in the mix.
The net doesn’t make copies free. It makes digital copies cheap in the same way that the industrial revolution made manufactured copies cheap, and we’re experiencing the same sorts of problems. When you can produce a hat for a nickle, how do hat-makers survive? When you can reverse engineer someone else’s work and reproduce it, how does a company stay in business? That’s why we invented patent and copyright. We’re working on something equivalent for the net, but we’re not there yet. So, in the meantime, what’s a blogger to do? How do artists make money on the net when their work can be digitized and copied for “free”?
Ubiquitous and infinite as it feels, the net is still locked in time and space and governed by people. That’s the root reason some things still have value. Here’s my attempt at charting the edges of the internet. The old maps say “Here there be monsters.” This one says, “Here lies opportunity.”
The limits of Place: There’s still only one of me, I live in only one place, and I like stuff. I still value:
- Having a wow experience: a concert. a book signing
- Locality: news, traffic, and weather reports that impact my life.
- Delivery: close enough for me to fetch, to my door
- Personalization: made to order, autographed
- Authenticity: It’s real. I can prove it.
- Rarity: Stuff is inherently rare and that rarity will always increase with time.
The limits of Time: Your digital content may move at the speed of light, but I’ve got lots to do, and time is short. (or I’m lazy. whatever) I still value:
- Immediacy: Quick is good; Instant is better
- Customization: make it perfect for me, cut distractions/noise
- Interpretation: What’s it mean? How’s it work?
- Simplicity: I don’t think about my coffee cup. I drink out of it. Be the cup.
- Expertise: seeking a mentor, or maybe just a freelancer.
The Limits of Personality: You might never see me face to face, but I’m still human. I’m a social critter with an ego and dreams. I still value
- Priority: First in line or first to know. Beta testing. Pre-release copies.
- Prestige/Reputation: Check out my vendor rating!
- Power/Control: Give me moderator privileges. Let me pick your song set for the next concert.
- Patronage: reciprocity feels good.
Note: The value in each individual area may be small. Perhaps, they’d motivate me to spend time and attention, but not money. But if you combine them, things get interesting. Alexander van Elsas has a great post focusing specifically on that line where value becomes profit.
What if I’m not an artist? We’ll still pay to outsource work if we don’t have the time, talent, expertise, or inclination. We’ll still pay for necessities like food, shelter, clothes. We’ll still pay for things that lower our risks: health care, investments, insurance. If you combine any of these with some of the ingredients above, there’s opportunity for a small enterprise to compete with the big boys.
What about security, copyright infringement, aggregation, backups? I don’t list them here because I think they are problems inherent in the system and over time, we’ll get better and better at handling them. Right now, though, they’re great ways to make money.
What about trust, fulfillment, love? Where do these fit in? They don’t. Trust is earned, fulfillment discovered, love given freely or not at all. They influence how I buy, but they cannot be bought.
(edited for clarity, and to add a couple new links)
Youth Group Podcast?
Our youth group just made our first podcast. The real question is, “Why?” Well for starters, because it’s fun! More important, from a youth ministry perspective, it’s great training. We have to learn to plan ahead, to work together, to choose our words wisely, to ask ourselves the big questions. “What do I really want to say to the world? What’s the best way to say it?” From a life skills perspective, we’re helping kids become creators instead of consumers, giving them skills they’ll use for the rest of their lives. It’s great advertising, builds a sense of ownership, and might even draw new kids into your church. And did I mention it’s fun? Try hilarious.
Here’s the crazy thing. In the digital world, podcasting is already old news. It was huge for awhile, now it’s just one of a hundred different ways to create and distribute content. But for most of our churches, it’s so bleeding edge that we don’t even consider applying it to our situation. Or we want to, but assume it’s too difficult to learn. The net is not bleeding edge. It’s reality. Deal with it. And it’s not too hard to learn. Remember the old commercial, where the mom always said, “Look it up, Dear!” and the kid would grab the encyclopedia? Now she says, “Google it.” The limitations are inside our own minds.
The real question is this: “Is your love bigger than your desire to be comfortable?”
God must cry
Someone asked me, “What’s the deal with your blog’s name?”
1. Most people assume religion is either sad or angry. When I read the Bible, especially the stories of Jesus, I see so much laughter there that most Christians seem to miss because they’ve got holy blinders on.
2. When I look at the world, I see too much beauty and creativity. If God did make it all, then he could’ve made it all boring and samey (tofu!) but chose to make it like this.
3. My favorite kind of humor is big man/little man stuff. God “must” is kind of a joke in itself, especially when we mean it.
But some days, for whatever reason, I’m not laughing. Today is one of those. I read a bit out of Hosea and Micah and it’s like looking in a mirror. We take so much, and turn it into so little.
I’m certain of nothing, but as sure as I am that God must laugh, that’s how sure I am that God must cry.
Cyber Padre or Suburban Pastor?
Originally published in the May/June 2008 issue of YouthWorker Journal. (story here) Reprinted with permission. Those who would rather bask in type-set goodness can grab the PDF.
Confessions of a Clan Chaplain:
Loving God, games, and the gamers who play them
My name is Rob, and I’ve got a secret. I’m a 30-year-old gamer. Ever since Frogger, I’ve been hooked. Side-scrollers, roleplaying games, adventure games, first person shooters, simulations, massively multi-player on-line games, I love ‘em all. But that’s not my secret.
I’m also a pastor, an Associate of Youth and Family Ministries to be exact. Over the years, many have asked me when I was finally going to become a “real” minister. I usually just laugh and say, “I’m very happy where I’m at, thank you.” Inside, it ticks me off. But that’s not my secret either.
Like most secrets, mine started small. I was bored one day, and broke, so I searched the net for a new game, something fun and free. I stumbled on what I still believe is one of the greatest games ever made. (Gamers can find out more at freeallegiance.org) I tried it, loved it, and joined a squad.
For the non-gamers, the difference between squad games and pick-up games is like the difference between Church League Softball and AAA Minor Leagues. Squad members discuss tactics in online forums. They schedule practices to improve skill and teamwork. What started as a simple distraction had turned into a commitment.
You know what the greatest part was? I was one of the guys. When someone swore, they didn’t apologize to me. When I got angry, they didn’t lecture me. And best of all no one assumed they knew me just because they could label me. It was a meritocracy of humor, intelligence, and skill. Finally, after a year, I took the big step. I told them I was a minister. What started as a commitment had become a community.
Members joined and members left, but the core became fast friends. We shared family pictures and work frustrations. We argued philosophy and politics. And because they trusted me, occasionally they would come to me with a question, or a problem, or even a prayer request.
Another year passed, and I posted a poll in our forum volunteering for clan chaplain. (clan instead of squad because the connotations hinted at the family we had become for each other, and chaplain because our community was so diverse) They overwhelmingly accepted, and dubbed me “Padre.” What started as a community had become a ministry.
So now you know. My big secret is out. I’m a shepherd with two flocks. I minister to kids in a suburb of Milwaukee. I also minister to a misfit band of gamers from LA, to Slovakia, to Australia, and points in between.
What surprises me every day is how much these two groups have in common. They like Jesus and hate church, which means I can’t hold a service and wait for them to show; I go to them. When they cry, I mourn with them. When they laugh, I dance with them. When we talk, I try to listen as much as I speak. I show them as much love as I’m able. When they ask why, I tell them stories.
“Did you hear the one about the guy with two sons?”
That’s real ministry even if the guy you’re praying for is a computer programmer from Germany. That’s real ministry even if the girl you’re counseling has braces and ADHD. It’s ministry because Christ is present, transforming us. These glimpses of the coming/present kingdom remind me that God is here too, inescapable, relentlessly loving, even on the Internet. Why would I give that up just to be a “real” minister?
WARNING!
This is a journal. As in, personal opinions. As in, NOT the official stance of anybody but me. As in, NOT my final answer on anything. As in read at your own risk, your mileage may vary.
