Worship Connect

The Worship Pastors of the Evangelical Covenant Church have put together a (closed) facebook group where we discuss our calling: leading our people in the worship of our Creator. Out of these discussions, the denomination has asked us to contribute weekly to a public blog so that the denomination as a whole can benefit from the conversation. I was so excited to be asked to contribute!

This week, it's been a very interesting discussion on what to do with national holidays; how does one curate worship gatherings and keep Jesus as the focal point - the subject of the story, as it were - but still honor the cultures in which we find ourselves when they celebrate a holiday (July 4, Memorial Day, etc). There have been many points of view and ideas brought to the table, and we'd love you to contribute your thoughts on the subject. The blog post in question (written by our own Matt Nightingale) can be found here. We'd love to hear from you!

Brilliance

Had a beautiful day today and decided to take a few pictures in my in-laws' flower garden. These were the best. Enjoy.

Facedown: Final Version

Here's what I'm calling my "final" arrangement of Matt Redman's "Facedown". It's not actually a ton different from the last one, although I did mess around with a few suggestions from people (more reverb on the sax, pulling the guitar arpeggio out of the first chorus a bit, etc.). Anyway, hope you enjoy it.

Now onto my next project, something I actually wrote this time. Guess we'll see how it goes!

Facedown [UPDATED]

So my good friend Dan pointed out a way in which I could post an mp3 here on my blog. I've completed the audio demo that I've been working on. It's a song by Matt Redman called "Facedown." Enjoy!

Welcomed in to the courts of the King
I've been ushered into your presence
Lord I stand on your merciful ground
Yet with every step tread with reverence

And I'll fall facedown
As your glory shines around
Yes I'll fall facedown
As your glory shines around

Who is there in the heavens like you
And upon the earth who's your equal
You are far above you're the highest of heights
We are bowing down to exalt you

And I'll fall facedown ...

So let your glory shine around!
Let your glory shine around!
King of glory here be found!
King of glory!

Project

Sorry for the silence of late. I've had writers block on the next post in the "Music and Mission" series (it needs to be just right). More importantly, I've started a new blog in the hopes that it'll get my brain juices going to write a book I've been working on - in my head - for a while.

You may be wondering about the URL - "enter the numenous." Rudolf Otto once wrote a book called The Idea of the Holy, a book that has inspired me to this day. I find that Otto did a phenomenal job of putting into words the fact that God is a beautiful mystery. To talk about this, he had to make up a few new words. God's holiness is partly known, and partially mysterious to us, almost unknowable. It was this mystery that he called the numenous.

The journey of the Christian Agnostic is one of diving headfirst into a life of mystery, of danger, and of uncertainty. We entrust ourselves to God by suspending disbelief and allowing Him to work in our lives, to reveal Himself to us through our investigation and through our experiences. To enter the numenous is not safe, but it is good.

I encourage you to take a look, comment, and contribute in any way you think will be constructive.

Thanks in advance.

Music and Mission, part I: Terra Nova I

This is a story of discontents, of how one discontent after another led me to where I am now. I know it's a long story, but if I'm going to get to the bigger picture, this is necessary material. I hope it's not TOO boring, but bear with me.

I suppose I should start by saying that this is not exactly the path I had planned. I know that everybody says that, but in my case, it's pretty easy to tell. See, when I was a kid, everybody knew I was going into science. I excelled in all of my science courses, pursued science on the side, ate, slept, and breathed science. Biology, in particular, became my biggest obsession; living systems fascinate me. I couldn't decide between biochemistry, evolutionary biology, and neurobiology - they were all fascinating. Eventually, however, neuroscience won out, and I enrolled at the University of Rochester, one of few universities in the US with an undergrad neuro program. Everyone expected great things.

Somewhere in the midst of my freshman year, though, I started to have doubts. I know everybody does, but these were on a more fundamental level. I was doing pretty well in my classes until my advisor, a geologist (who knew nothing about neuroscience) advised me to enroll in an advanced biochemistry course in my second semester of college, a course that required organic chemistry, which I had not yet taken. Needless to say, I tanked it with a D, something I'd never done before. It threw me for a loop, but it was the wakeup call I needed. I had always enjoyed working labs for science, but they were controlled labs with predictable results; I started wondering if I really wanted to do true research, the kind where I had to invent the experiments myself, the kind where I had to spend my every waking moment in a white polished room in a jacket with goggles on.

I hated the goggles.

By my sophomore year, when I realized how terrible I was at memorizing chemical formulas in organic chemistry (using them was easy, but remembering what they were to use them was another matter), I realized that R&D wasn't my thing. I briefly toyed with the idea of changing to Evolutionary Biology, but my parents convinced me I shouldn't do that (although I still don't know why it was such a big deal to them). My music minor suddenly started looking more and more promising; I've always been a musician, but never had it pegged as a career simply because everyone told me it wouldn't help me earn a living.

Apparently, artists only get paid, like, a dollar or something.

Still, the idea of excelling in something that might not earn as much money beat trying to be mediocre in something that might pay more. I changed my major a week later. But something was still missing. It was when I realized that I play too many instruments that I couldn't focus exclusively on music; I'm sort of a "jack of all trades, master of none" sort of guy; I'll play what I play decently well, but I'm not exactly Dave Matthews on my guitar, Kenny G on my saxophone, etc. I can't even name a famous horn player, but I wouldn't be him either.

But I really, really liked leading worship. I had started a worship team for Campus Crusade in my sophomore year at the urging of my friend Rob. I'd never realized how much I liked it, how much the glove fit, as it were. I signed up for an internship that summer at a local church, and after that summer, I was hooked.

Sort of.

So I'm wishy-washy. Fine, I'll admit to being occasionally dissatisfied with the status quo, but it's worked in my favor so far. I wouldn't be where I am without what I hope is a healthy discontent with mediocrity.

I loved my music theory classes, but the history courses were tailored for music education majors; I wasn't one. I finished two of them before I couldn't take it anymore - and not for want of a good professor either, Dr. Meconi was a wonderful storyteller and very encouraging of my interests. Still, something just didn't sit right, and it was then that I "happened" upon a unique program at the University of Rochester: the Department of Interdepartmental Studies.

That's right, it gets a whole department.

Basically, it's a cross-disciplinary program that allows students to build their own majors. The idea is that since the world is becoming increasingly specialized, the students shouuld be allowed to pursue specialized interests from the start and not "waste" time on parts of majors they don't need. For example, if one wanted to major in music recording, one need not waste time with a lot of music history, and can instead take extra courses in recording; my friend Steph did that.

In my case, I decided to build my own worship arts program at a secular university. I called it "Music in Christianity" and it combined courses in Christian history with music theory, and tied it all together with an eight-credit thesis project. In the course of my study I'd come across a word that I couldn't shake from my mind: postmodernism. It kept cropping up everywhere, but nobody seemed to know what to do with it, especially my Christian friends. So I decided to do my research thesis on this "postmodernism" idea, and since I had to talk about music too, I decided it was the perfect chance to talk postmodern music in the Christian sphere - where did postmodernity come from, and how has it influenced Christian music.

I graduated with a 95 page paper in one hand and an honors diploma in another. I had every intention of going to grad school somewhere with a worship arts program, when God once again stuck his nose in the mix. This time, it came in the form of an invitation from a friend of my wife. Ruth wanted to know if Liz and I wanted to take a year and help them plant a church in Melbourne, Australia.

And how do you say no to something like that?

(to be continued)

Music and Mission: Introduction

They've been called the worship wars for a reason. Congregations have split because of differences of opinion; new churches start because they don't find a style they prefer; relationships have been broken, people have been hurt, and worst, fewer people are shown the love of Christ, but are instead shown the malice of the humanity of his followers.

Music is a powerful tool. It provokes the deepest passions in all of us like little else can. Even the ancients knew of this; the Celtic Bards and the Greek Eunichs told stories through song. In the middle ages, music was what kept the hope of the peasants alive. The great composers of the renaissance and baroque were the celebrities of their day. In modern times, the best composers are no longer sought for their live performances, but for their ability to pair video with a soundtrack. And through the ages, music has been used to express the adoration of every ethnicity and nationality on earth to their respective deities.

But music is a cultural phenomenon. The music of one people, of one generation, of one composer, does not necessarily evoke the same response in others. The gregorian chant will quickly put a modern music history class to sleep, while the tones and rhythms of U2 or Coldplay will keep their attention riveted for hours. Most Americans have only heard a didgeridoo in movies without ever realizing that it is an Aboriginal storytelling instrument. Few even know what a Zither is, and none could replicate a 12-tone scale - but many Indians could. Every culture has their own form of audible art, and thus every culture has a language of worship entirely unique to themselves.

But have Christians been paying attention?

Rather than take the more traditional seminary courses, I studied anthropology, sociology, and psychology in preparation to be a worship pastor. I've decided it's time to explain why.

Missionary Networking

One of the ideas that has been increasingly fascinating to me of late is the idea of the "network." Basically, a hierarchy, is like this:

CEO -> SVP -> VP -> Peons

It's centralized at the CEO, who makes the decisions and communicates them via peons to the SVP, and so on.  Instead, a network has no leader, no "center." It is "decentralized," and yet for some reason, it works. Think of a flock of birds, who for no apparent reason all decide to change direction mid-flight - all at once. Or a school of fish. Or a protest rally. Or a protest rally that turns ugly. Or Al Qaeda. Human nature is more complicated than was previously thought; we don't need to have a solid leader to do things together, it seems, but rather we need some sort of idea that can be easily "sneezed" from one person to another, a guiding principle that motivates action. Sometimes, we will even do things in groups that we wouldn't do otherwise; we get caught up in the moment, a sort of "collective-consciousness" that nobody can quite explain.

It's amazing.

Obviously there are plenty of negative applications, but what about positives? The internet is a good example, one that has been used for both. Similarly, over time, the church has been just such a "decentralized" structure; no matter how many denominations pop up with a CEO-style visionary at the top, there are always enough others that make up for the deficiencies of the others. When one denomination suffers a major setback - say, one of its leaders gets frisky where he or she shouldn't - there are always others to pick up the slack. It's like having a spider-web; even if one node in the web breaks, the rest still hold it mostly together. Sure, they miss the one, and the web doesn't look quite as nice, but it still works.

What if this idea could be harnessed for beneficial means?

I was talking with a missionary friend the other day, and he was telling me about the environment he's working in. It's a hard place he's working in; high rate of unemployment, lots of poverty, and a culture quite at odds with the larger culture that surrounds it. And he's struggling just a bit, trying to figure out not only how the culture works and thinks, but what he can do as a missionary to help improve things in a way honoring the people and their heritage.

And it occurred to me, I know a few people who might have something to say for him, but just happen to be involved in missions in cultures around the globe. And then I thought, surely there must be other missionaries who I don't know that could help him, or at least give him some good principled advice that he could apply to his situation, stories of "well this is what WE did ...".

And then I thought, hey, this is that networking stuff.

The more I thought about it - in the shower, at my desk, during sermons at church (sorry Mike), before I fell asleep - the more I thought "this could work, we just need a place to start it." I've talked to a few friends, professors, and the like, and they all agree - a place for missional networking is desperately needed. Missionaries have so many stories that have good, practical solutions for everyday problems, stories that can help other missionaries in other cultures with solving the everyday problems a mission agency or a sending church is not equipped to think through.

We've had a few ideas; but I would love to hear yours, especially if you are a missionary. We talked through the idea of using a centralized office, but that was too impractical in this time of financial crunch. We talked through the possibility of each seminary having a small office and networking - this is, I think, the best option, but sadly a ways off. We talked about web forums and a database ... but it seems like too little, especially for missionaries in places without web access.

So that's where we are. I want to open it up, ask for some creative help.

Who out there has a good idea?

Have Purgatory, Will Travel

Just thought I'd post a quick update about what's going on for us right now., for those interested in such things It's, sadly, a very quick update because in spite of the time available to me to write about what we've been doing, there's very little of substance on which to report.

My life, of late, has revolved around several things, first and foremost of which is applying for jobs. No, I do not have one yet, despite my best efforts. I've applied locally for anything I could think of, and nationally for worship pastor, young-adult pastor, and missions pastor positions at churches (my training qualifies me for all three). Nothing yet, though one or two prospects on the horizon.

This has left me with more time on my hands than I had anticipated, but for some reason, writing has taken a back-seat. I don't know if it's just worrying about my financial and professional futures that has wounded my passion for writing, but I'm thinking that if it plays a part, it's only a part. The other big part of my time lately has been recording, which has likely sapped my writing creativity for its own purposes. My grandparents gave me a cool little gizmo for Christmas that allows me to plug any instrument into my computer via a nifty silver box with dials on it. The other grandparents gave me a microphone and stand, so the possibilities are limited only to what I can play. But then, my wife suggested that I upgrade my Finale notation software so that I can use their sampling technology to write and record music without knowing how to play the instruments (case in point, drums and oboe; I can't play those, but Finale can if I write a part for them).

Together, the three give me pretty much an unlimited vocabulary of recording possibilities, which is pretty cool, since I've only ever recorded one song and that was before my wedding five years ago. For my first project, I decided that I should record a piece I wrote in college that tells the story of John the Baptist. I'm not sure why I wrote the piece in the first place, but suffice it to say, it's probably my best in terms of poetry and interesting sounds. And then my roommate Mike helped write a cool guitar part.

So I've been playing the same song now for two weeks, and it's slowly coming together. I think I'm nearly done with the guitar parts, and the drumset part sounds decent. Now I'm working on an oboe part for it in Finale and maybe some strings. And then vocals. I've never done this before, so it's sort of an exercise in trial-and-error, and lots of frustration with "but why did it do that?!" But it's starting to sound better. Actually, it's pretty sweet, if I say so myself.

But it hasn't kept my mind off of our situation. If you're the praying sort, I'd love it if you'd mention us to God at some point soon. He's been good to us, and hasn't let us down yet, and I keep reminding myself of this, but I'm not going to lie, it's hard. Thanks to those of you that have been praying for us.

And now, the lyrics. Enjoy.

There's a voice in the desert calling out to the wind
Dressed in robes of burlap, telling of the end
of the sin of man in the Father's eyes
He who has ears to hear, then let him hear
Prophesy ...

Water from the Jordan into fire from the Lord
Saved by the mercy of the One who is to come
For the least of the Kingdom is even greater than He
For a dove will be a sign, make straight the way
Prophesy ...

Prepare ye the way, prepare ye the way

Cast aside to prison in a foreign land
Sent to live and die for the Son of Man
Blessed is the one who doesn't fall away
on account of the Son, who is the Lamb
Prophesy ...

Economics, part IX: Fair

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part VIII

One of my mantras is "when in doubt, question the question." And so I was on my way to pick up some new contacts the other day when a thought struck me: why does it matter whose fault any of this is? The economy, the war, whatever - why does it matter who gets the blame? Then I began asking myself why this particular idea suddenly struck me as odd. I mean, I've lived with it, used it, and been used by it every day of my life; why should the concept of "fair play" strike me as strange?

I think it's because 'fault' or 'blame' makes little difference, practically speaking. Causally, there is no reason to think that there is a connection between the one who causes a problem and the one who fixes (or should fix) it. But in our culture, we use assigned blame as the means to getting a party to enact action - the person who caused the problem should be the one to fix the problem. You probably don't think that's weird, but it's actually somewhat unique to American, or at least Western culture. Let's ask the question - why would we think that a person who screwed something up be any better at fixing it?

For our culture, it's a matter of resources; a person who depleted the resources of another should be the one to deplete some of his or her own resources in compensation. We do this in almost every facet of life: in business, in our judicial system, and even in friendships. How many times have you gotten a gift from somebody and felt like you should get them something in return? It's this weird little quirk of our culture coming back to haunt you.

Back to blame, let's say that a friend comes to my house and, by accident, she knocks an expensive vase off a table. Now, our culture says she ought to replace that; she broke it, or at least, she was the cause of its demise, and so she should be the cause of its restoration. But why ought this be the case? What if she is unable to financially afford this replacement? Our culture tends to dictate that the relationship with this friend will be damaged until she offer some sort of compensation (maybe not over a vase, but let's just overgeneralize to make the point); I will not likely trust my friend as much if I follow this path. But why should this be the case? If my friend cannot afford to rebuild the vase or buy a new one, but I can, does it make sense that I feel as though she owes me?

I think our concept of fairness is built, not just on "she should have to pay for it because that's objectively fair," but on "I don't want to pay for it." We like to pass the blame because it makes us feel better about ourselves - it wasn't OUR fault. I want to restore my sense of self-worth at having lost something; when I blame others, I feel more righteous by comparison. Somebody else has to take care of the problem, and I am freed from any responsibility towards fixing it.

The trouble is, the gospel challenges those assumptions to their very core. If Jesus did in fact die on the cross to take our sin "upon his shoulders" (as they say), and we can do nothing to repay him for it, we are left at an empasse, in an awkward situation. It comes down to this: I can't repay God for what He did, and that bothers me. As an American, I have a hard time accepting a gift unconditionally because I feel like I owe something back. In short, this is a point at which the gospel and American culture part ways, and as a community of Christ-followers living within that culture, then, we have to tread lightly when it comes to addressing this issue in our own lives and in the lives of others.

Ultimately, it's about what we value; if I value the vase, the economics of the situation, then of course "fairness" dictates that I make her replace it, no matter what the subsequent consequences to her; once I get my vase back, the issue is no longer important to me. But if I value the relationship, maybe a whole other set of possibilities rises to the surface. Maybe the vase isn't that important after all and doesn't need to be replaced. Or maybe if it is important to me, I ought to replace it myself instead of holding my friend to something she can't afford. Of course, if she can afford to replace it, she is more than welcome to offer that herself, but it ought to come from a sense of giving rather than a sense of obligation.

The bottom line is, how are we living as an alternate economy? Are we living sacrificially, living in a way that honors and serves our neighbors and values the relationships we have? Are we living in a way that honors Jesus and the way He taught and lived himself? Jesus valued people, he valued relationship; by blaming others instead of assuming responsibility despite cause, we are not enacting the economy of heaven. Taking responsibility for the plight of the Other in spite of who they are, what they did, or why they did it is the mark of a Christian - scripture calls it "love." Life is not and never will be "fair," and anyone who sells visions to the contrary is doing just that: selling something. True good comes when we become servants, when we stop using "fairness" as an excuse not to help others. It means putting aside one's pride and one's sense of "fair play," and instead donning the servant's towel and washing the feet of others.

The best economy only comes when we get our hands dirty in the service of others.

(to be continued ...)

Economics, Part VI: Heuristics

An empire requires that human beings succumb to the illusion of dependence on the system. Without this illusion, the empire as such cannot exist. In a way, it is like this for every culture - the culture as a generalized whole has to buy into its own ideas, otherwise it wouldn't cohere. It is only by making processes unconscious that a culture or society can function; we call them "heuristics" in psychology.

The heuristic is a funny little idea noticed first in biopsychology. Somebody noticed that the human mind is capable of a whole lot of processing, but not enough to deal with every single stimulus that comes from the environment around us. Think about your perception for a moment; when you look at the world, what happens? You tend to focus on certain things, as opposed to others. For example, if you are sitting in class (as I am now), there are many options for your attention - you can focus on the professor, of course, but there are many other sights, sounds, and smells to notice. You can see and hear other students typing on their laptops (often in facebook, not powerpoint or onenote); you can focus on the sound of the air conditioning; you could focus on the feel of the chair beneath you; you could focus on the feel of your clothes sitting on your body; you could focus on the smell of the coffee of the guy a few rows down, or the sound of your laptop fan; you could focus on the constant shifting and sniffling of the guy behind you.

So why don't you focus on those things? Because you have heuristics - mental short-cuts - that tell you those things are not significant in the context of a classroom. Instead, you're supposed to focus on the professor, who is teaching. But ok, how do you know who the professor is? You have a heuristic for that too - it's the person who stands at the front of the classroom and tells you things from a notebook or a powerpoint. Usually the person is older than you, and usually the person is better dressed than you are. If this seems obvious to you, it's because your heuristics are working - they're those little unspoken assumptions that help you make your mental perception more accurate. Over time these heuristics become more and more unconscious, as the evidence in their favor mounts and the contradictions fade (as we get used to their use), and we become "set in our ways." They allow the mind the capacity to process higher functions, such as logic and emotions, because it doesn't need spend as many resources to process raw sensory information.

If heuristics are thus necessary to the human condition, it is their abuse that perpetuates Empire. When people take their heuristics for granted, when heuristics go unquestioned, they leave the heuristics open for someone else to take advantage of them. Heuristics are never perfect, and are meant to be dynamic rather than static; there are always "exceptions to the rule," as it were, but when someone does not allow those exceptions, he or she does not allow for the limited nature of perception in his or her tiny little corner of the world. However, if someone else were to convince a person that his or her heuristics were static (solidifying them into "stereotypes"), the person would then become trapped in an illusion of simplicity. For example, instead of allowing the category "professor" to include somebody wearing jeans and a sweater (which is less traditional), one might stubbornly maintain that professors ONLY wear suits and ties. It's too simple of a category that doesn't allow for diversity; "professors" (or whatever) become a closed system, incapable of change or addition. Amplify this to a large number of heuristics and add a dose of ethnocentrism ("our heuristics are better", as any human being does with his or her own perceptions, which is then amplified in community), and suddenly you are on the path towards Empire. When this large group of people believe the world to be starkly simple, they have given up their ability to critique themselves, and thus the ability to change for the better.

Since the heuristic element is an intrapersonal element, within the individual (although there are such things as "collective heuristics"), it is with individual heuristics that the problem of empire begins - and must end. Massive cultural shifts do not happen because of a movement that begins with the masses, with the collective, but rather at the level of the individual, with a few people that move beyond established traditions, heuristics, or cultural assumptions. Empire is thwarted primarily by individuals that then become a collective movement.

In other words, Empire is thwarted by choice.

(to be continued ...)

* * *

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Christian Agnosticism Series

I really wanted to put all of the links to my "Christian Agnostic" series onto one page for convenience. I've actually been thinking about turning it into a longer piece, maybe a book or something, since a friend of mine mentioned he'd like to hear more on the subject. It's been a dream for a while, to write a book, but so far I haven't had the time, with school and all. In any case, here they are, all six links (Part I had really nothing to do with the rest of it). I'd love to hear thoughts on these again, especially in light of the book project.

Christian Agnostic, Part II: Verb
Christian Agnostic, Part III: Scripture
Christian Agnostic, Part IV: Science and the Bible
Christian Agnostic, Part V: Forward
Christian Agnostic, Part VI: Doubt
Christian Agnostic, Part VII: Disciple

The Valley

I can't believe I'm actually publishing this, but I wrote it for the storytelling class I'm taking this week, and I have no idea if it's any good. In any event, I know it doesn't make any sense, at least, on the first read, but I'd love some feedback anyway.

* * *

Once upon a time, Everything ended.

This was a shock to Everything, as it had quite liked being. Ending was a new experience for Everything, and it wasn't sure that it liked it. But the good thing about endings is that they're also beginnings. Everything liked the sound of that, though where the thought had come from was a mystery. It had quite liked being before, but it had started to get old. Perhaps this is why it had ended in the first place.

It couldn't quite recall.

A cloudy sky, stretching off to the horizon, falling to meet the earth in the distance. The earth, in turn, rose somewhat grudgingly to meet it, half-heartedly butting upwards with a series of low hills. On a particularly phlegmatic hill stood a grim looking figure, surveying the devastation before him. His mottled hair shifted as he slowly turned his head, a few strands languishing in the light breeze. The armor he wore was scratched and dull, the sword clutched in his trembling hand stained a dark maroon. His face, however, wore a calm expression; stern, but calm. Bodies littered the plain below him, stray wisps of smoke drifting in the breeze as the few remaining fires slowly burned themselves into ashes.

Everything grew wary of its condition. What had happened? It knew only that something was missing, but couldn't place what that might be. It shifted its attention to the new beginning. Maybe by watching what was happening, it could perhaps determine what had been lost.

Silence. The corners of his mouth twitched, then drew into a grimace. He was not comfortable with silence, but then, he could not determine if it was the world that was silent or merely his own ears. The battle, after all, had been deafening, but then, silence. He struck his sword against his boot, the grimace drawing into a frown when a buckle popped. But it clinked, and he knew it was merely the silence of contrast. If he concentrated, he could hear, faintly, the stirrings of the breeze. He moved his foot forward. Then the other. Satisfied he could still move, he sheathed his sword and began walking down the hill.

Everything focused warily on this new development. Movement. It vaguely recalled that movement may have been involved in ending as well. That would make sense, it conceded, unless lack of movement was also involved. It pushed the question aside and concentrated, becoming aware of other movement it hadn't noticed before. Vapors, mostly, but none with the sort of intensity it was now observing. It watched more closely.

A light drizzle had begun to fall from the clouds onto the lifeless plain, settling into the dusty earth. Out of the clouds, a lone cardinal, its red feathers a brilliant contrast to the desolation around him, descended in the growing mist. His eyebrows furrowed. Where had the bird come from? It couldn't have come from anywhere close; so far as he knew, everything alive had died in the battle.

Except him, of course. The lone survivor.

Everything was shocked; a second movement had appeared seemingly from nowhere. Puzzled, it began to search. Perhaps it was not Everything, as it had once thought. There, beyond the clouds! A mix of emotions washed over Everything; surprise at first, then fear and then curiosity. Boundaries; Everything had boundaries, and on one lay a small crack. Perhaps whatever had caused the desolation had also cracked the boundary, letting in the other movement. But if there were boundaries, what lay beyond?

In a fit of sheer rage, he pulled the sword from its sheath and slammed it, blade first, into the softening earth. As the drizzle intensified to rain, water began to pool in the depressions, turning softened earth into mud and absorbing the bodies and carnage, the lifelessness becoming one with the desolation. The cardinal landed again on the hilt of the sword.

Everything turned its senses ... outward? Yes, outward. It hadn't realized that there was more beyond the desolation, but it felt a growing sense of urgency about it.

The cardinal looked at him sideways, cocking its head in a jerky, almost rhythmic fashion. What is this? He leaned farther forward, kneeling so that the bird was at eye level, and held out his hand. The bird looked at him steadily and, after a moment that stretched out into the awkward, dropped the package into his hand and with a satisfied chirp leapt into the air. It was a seed. It did not appear particularly out of the ordinary; black, thin, and remarkably small. He glanced up again as the cardinal returned, this time landing on the ground. He bent down as the bird poked its beak into the dirt and looked up. It chirped.

Everything? returned its attention to the two movements inside. The first seemed to have settled down, but the other kept moving around without rest, alighting here, then moving on. As Everything? pondered this, it felt a blinding jolt of light.

He pulled his hand back out of the dirt and dropped the seed down into the small depression he'd made. Standing up, he pushed the dirt back over the hole with his foot. A chirp overhead revealed the cardinal descending again to land on his sword, but there it did not remain. It chirped, louder this time, more urgent, and flew off. When he did not pursue, it circled, chirped again, and flew again toward the hills. Leaving his sword, he followed.

The earth began to rumble. He began to run.

Everything? could not avoid panic as the two movements raced faster and faster toward the hills. Everything? began to tremble as the light grew brighter.

Only when he regained the hills did the bird change direction, slowing down and circling to land on his shoulder. It chirped, gently this time, and he slowed to a stop on the crest of a hill. He turned to face the valley, his eyes widening. From a widening crevice in the ground, a tree was expanding to fill the valley. Roots snaked out of the soil and plunged back into new depressions, sucking up the pools of water before submerging into the earth. His jaw dropped as the cardinal began chirping excitedly. He arched his back to watch the tree as it grew without bounds, filling the sky.

The clouds parted. Sunlight streamed into the land. Color exploded as life burst in to fill the desolation.

Memory flooded back, the battle won. He awoke smiling. Content. Filled. Alive.

I've Been Filming

I have been so incredibly busy lately, it's ceased to be funny. I've been busy with schoolwork, naturally, and with regular work, and sometimes I eat and see my family, but mostly I've been consumed with reading and working on a video project for Doctrine. It's a fantastic project with a fantastic group of people, but it's kept me away from writing. I'll post it here when we're done, but until then, I won't be posting much. For your enjoyment though, the last project I had for doctrine is as follows.

* * *

Anna waved me over, making space in front of her in the line for the grilled cheese and hamburgers. I glanced around the cafeteria, wondering why it was that there were so many people here; the food was horrible, laden with grease. Then I repented, realizing that I too was here and shouldn’t judge people for their poor taste in culinary experience if I too was to partake. Then again, I’d been invited; they came on their own. Ah, college. After a wry grin from the chef, he slapped our meals on mostly clean plates, and we paid for our meal and sat down at a slightly grungy table, wiping the crumbs off with a napkin. We chatted in between bites. Periodically, however, Anna would glance towards my neck and frown.

“Have I got something on my neck?” I asked, wondering if the tomato soup had splattered up unknowingly.

"No. Well your head, but I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Actually, that necklace of yours keeps catching my eye.” Bugger. I knew it was going to come up sometime; I was wearing a cross on a chain around my neck, and ever since that class we’d taken on Ancient Roman Empire, I was wondering when Anna – an agnostic – would start asking about Jesus on a cross.

“So what’s the deal?”

“Well, it’s a symbol.”

“I can see that, you’re not hanging from it. But wasn’t that an instrument of murder? What if he’d have died today, would you wear a noose instead of a necklace?”

“You know, it’s funny,” I said, taking the necklace off, “but I never thought of it that way. Funny how this stuff gets commercialized and we don’t think about it like that anymore.” I paused, wondering what to say next. “But like I said, it’s a symbol of … well, gratitude.”

“Unpack that statement.”

“See, think of it like this. You get this credit card in the mail, and you’re pre-approved. You start using the card, only you suddenly realize that you have no means of paying it off. You’re a college student, after all.” She smirked. I continued. “So the cops come and haul you off to jail, and you come to court one day and your lawyer shows up, and he’s your dad, and he’s pissed that you didn’t follow the stuff he taught you about good finances, but in front of the judge and jury, he finds a loophole in the system and decides to pay your fine and your bail and the money back to the credit card company.” She stared at me, chewing thoughtfully.

“So this lawyer, he’s your dad but, you didn’t ask him to do that, right?” I nodded. “But … why? If he’s pissed, shouldn’t he make you pay it himself?”

“Well, he’s still your dad, he loves you.”

“And the cross, it’s sort of like the credit card statement he gets later.”

“Precisely.” I was surprised the metaphor had actually worked. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” She looked anxious. “‘Sort of’ doesn’t cut it, dude.”

“Well, what metaphor ever works perfectly? Besides, not everybody wears a cross. Lots of people like the symbol of the icthus fish to symbolize Jesus’ life, and the Celts made this special knot to symbolize the Trinitarian God. They’re all parts of the same story.” I put the necklace back on. “But I wear the cross as a symbol of my gratitude for the bill being paid. God could take something horrible and turn it into something good.”

She shrugged, but looked modestly moved. “I guess that’s what would make Him God.”

"There’s hope for you yet,” I replied. She winked and dug into her tater tots.

On Being Graphic

Dr. Seamands called my latest creation for Doctrine "provocative" and "graphic." Then he gave me an "A", so I guess that was ok for him. Let me know what you think. We had to write a "devotional" piece for a potential congregation (even though I'm not going to be a pastor) around Christmas. So I wrote this. Enjoy.

Sometimes gospel (“good news”) is hard to accept. Read John 1:1-18, and then read the following story:

In the Appalachian mountains of West Virginia, in the late 1960’s, a teenage girl discovered she was pregnant through no doing of her own. Unwilling to marry someone who would betray him, her fiancé quietly tried to divorce her. That night, he had a dream of a man in a gleaming white suit telling him to marry her anyway, because her child was not a betrayal, but a fulfillment of ancient prophesy. Also, he was to name the baby John. He thought this unfitting for someone who was so special, but nonetheless when he woke up, he followed the advice and married her before she began to show. Naturally, the two were the talk of the region, but he loved her well. In her ninth month, the president called an unusual census, requiring them to return to the city of the husband’s birth (apparently, the internet wasn’t good enough). The two began the slow westward journey to California in the husband’s old ’68 Chevy truck. When they arrived, San Francisco was teeming with those arriving to register for the census. The husband could not find a hotel to stay in, as they were all full. While driving through a rough part of town, he stopped in a convenience store for coffee, and the owner offered his storage room as the only place he knew of without tenets. The husband accepted, and in that storage room, the boy John was born, wrapped in dish rags, and placed in a box full of bags of skittles. Later that evening, a gaggle of hippies was wandering along the street, stoned out of their minds, when in the air above them appeared a glowing man, telling them that God had come to earth this very night, and he’d be found at the Seven Eleven three streets over. Of course, the hippies investigated, and there in the storage room in front of an exhausted mother and skeptical father, retold the story and then worshipped the wailing infant. Later that week, some unusual celestial activity prompted a number of Iranian Muslims to find their way to the convenience store.

Is this a story you could believe? If it sounds oddly familiar, you’d be right; it’s a modernization of the Christmas narrative, found in Matthew 1-2 and Luke 1-2. But do some of the things that happened seem odd at all? Could you believe that drugged-up gay hippies or Iranian Muslims would worship the God of the universe after being drawn there in such strange fashion? Could you believe that God would take one of the most common names circulating around? That God would allow himself to be born in the back room of a convenience store, announced only to these unlikely characters? Would you lay down your life for the truth of this story?

The story of Christmas doesn’t sound the same to us as it did back in the day. It’s taken on meanings outside of its context, or original setting. When the gospels say that Jesus was born of a virgin, we don’t think about the fact that Mary was an unmarried woman who was found pregnant and thus worried about being ostracized from society! Or how about Joseph; would you take Mary to be your wife, thinking that she’d been unfaithful to you before you even got married? Place yourself in Mary’s shoes; do you think that anyone would believe you when you told them you had gotten pregnant without having sex, even after Joseph married you? I imagine nobody's ever used the "Holy Spirit" excuse before (though I imagine many have since), but what must the neighbors have thought? Her parents? Why would God allow Joseph the humiliation of having to explain that Jesus was not his biological son, but that an angel told him to marry Mary anyway?

As I’ve reflected on the Christmas story, I continue to wonder why the triune God would pick this sort of story as the inauguration of His time on earth; why God would start off in such humble circumstances. Why send the couple on a long, hard journey to Bethlehem on a donkey just when Jesus is about to be born, only to stay in a cave with animals for the birth? Furthermore, why are the first visitors the local outcasts, those with no social skills that spend their lives watching the sheep so everybody else can have wool and the occasional lamb dish? And lastly, why send Iraqi Astrologers – whom you probably know as the “magi” or “wisemen” – to see Jesus at all?

The story of our faith teems with evidence of God’s character, with His compassion and mercy and grace towards the lowest of the low. Jesus said he came not for those that didn’t need help, but for the broken, the lost, the destitute: those that needed a healer and a shepherd. The Christmas story is not something we'd like to tell in a church these days if it happened on our turf. Rather, it is the story of a good God who cared so much about His creation that He came and “made his dwelling among us.” For thirty-three years he lived in skin, in a zip code. His origins helped him understand those with whom he lived; the broken, the disenfranchised, the sinners. He knew what ridicule was, he knew what hard labor was, and he knew that life can be grueling. We in our comfy church buildings don’t often empathize with growing up in the lowest caste or in poverty. Jesus could identify with the poor (though in some fashion or another, we are all poor) because he’d grown up that way! It’s not as if serving others in humility was anything new to Jesus; it was not a strange feeling for Him. As the Word, the second of the Trinity, serving others was His nature; his participation in the creation of the world bears witness to his loving nature. Where else would he be born than into a region that needed his service, to people who needed his help?

He could die on the cross for our transgressions because he was the only human being to ever live without sin. And yet He is a part of God, who knew us as intimately as possible by taking on our very skin and bones. A paradox? For sure. But if you thought that the faith you’ve adopted wasn’t scandalous, wasn’t full of paradox and mystery and things that cannot be explained by any rational means, then you’ve been missing out on the most beautiful parts of our story. The incarnation, this “dwelling among us,” is gospel because Jesus loves all the world, calls all to Him, even those that might not deserve it (perhaps especially those), and sets them free. He came to Earth in order that we might come to Him. And that is good news for us all. Merry Christmas.

Rule of Life Essay

This was written for VOM this past semester. I really like the paper, for the most part, but you'll have to pardon a bit of hokey "this is what I do next" type stuff that's mixed in. Otherwise, enjoy. [The Management]

* * *

"The most important human endeavor is the striving for morality in our actions. Our inner balance and even our very existence depend on it. Only morality in our actions can give beauty and dignity to life.” [Albert Einstein]

On Pendulums: A Word on Balance

It was upon visiting a friend’s church plant that I first started thinking about pendulums as more than large weights, but as symbols. During the dinner after the service (their expression of Communion), the discussion turned towards balance, and one guy expressed how it seems to be that each time a turn in culture happens, it turns towards the opposite extreme. He compared it to a proverbial pendulum, always moving back and forth, resting at the peak of its arc, then cascading back towards the middle and swinging back up to the other extreme. As a metaphor, it works well to describe balance, that point somewhere in the middle at equilibrium between two extremes. Balance is as much a cycle-in-motion between extremes as it is a resting place. The pendulum thus carries with it a connotation of both “settled-ness” as well as motion, a metaphor which I believe describes balance quite well. It is a metaphor that is working in my life, and one that best describes the rule of life toward which I currently strive.

Mind and Body

It is remarkable how much the mind and the body influence one another. It is here that I wish to begin because it is here that the concept of balance is most intricately illustrated. The mind and body are tied together more closely than most of us would like to believe. The two are mutually interdependent; the mind controls the body, but the body houses the mind. While the two are obviously distinct, together, they form a complete organism. The mind is, for me, the easiest place to overshoot a pendulum. It is in this realm that we find academics, thought, concepts, and ideas (also, incidentally, all things in which I take great comfort). Without the mind, the body is lost; it is just an animal guided by instinct, thoughtlessly surviving. It is without a doubt the mind that gives us life that is worth living. It is by the mind that we can even conceive that God might be there to relate to, but it is also the mind that has been so deified by western culture for the last five hundred years (and at other times in history[1]). The body, on the other hand, is of a baser level. It is crude, instinctual, physical, but it is the body that sustains the mind. Without the body, the mind cannot exist.

Balance comes in the recognition that theology must inform praxis and that in turn, praxis will inform theology. When we separate the two, problems occur, called “dualism”: too much focus on the mind, and faith becomes an exercise in the “uber-spiritual,” downplaying the body’s actions to the point that they are barely tolerated and even evil. However, too much focus on the body, and all that happens is thoughtless action, guided by little more than baser instincts and the spur-of-the-moment. While I do not usually go to either extreme, I tend towards a version of the first, namely ignoring my body and letting it do it’s ‘thing’ however it pleases, so that I can focus on the more pleasurable and stimulating ideas to be thought. Instead of allowing an extreme to dominate my life, I must take care to balance thought with action, scholastics with exercise (I have to take care to schedule myself some gym time several times weekly instead of spending all my time reading), and theology with mission (constantly asking myself, who have I helped lately? Does my theology match my money and time and actions?).

Organic and Synthetic

One of the tendencies in our western culture is towards one of the organic or synthetic extremes. The organic is the world of nature, of the environment, even of the spiritual; we were born into this world naked and with nothing, and likewise from it we will pass. The synthetic is the world of the material, the concrete, of “stuff.” The present culture affirms the synthetic quite a bit more than it acknowledges the organic; it is enthralled with the material. I find myself caught up in this imbalance more than I usually care to admit; I want the latest computer gizmo, the best that money can buy, and in general, more stuff (and better stuff than my neighbor or family or even my wife). This world values noise and imposed schedules over the organic ebb and flow of time, leaving instead of coming, things instead of people. If I am to become balanced between the two, I am going to have to start giving up my desires to buy, to accumulate, and perhaps even start giving away what I have. However, there can be a tendency in some cultures to go to the other extreme, to give away so much that at some point they can no longer survive but for the charity of others[2].

Balance, once again, is found towards the middle; it values people but also values appropriate amounts of time with them. It celebrates the body as a creation of God and values the products of human ingenuity as useful, but rejects consumerism and materialism[3]. This means I must buy less, and give more. It means that a proper amount of material goods is ok, but acknowledging that the amount might differ from person to person and that if what I have is different from another, I must understand that God is choosing to teach that person differently than me[4]. It means I must watch for those in need and then not hesitate to give up what I have for them. It means letting go of my tendencies to hold onto things I “might use again someday” and give them to others who need them and can use them now[5].

Solitude and Community

“In the secret, in the quiet place // in the stillness you are there…” When I first started listening to contemporary Christian music, this was one of my favorites. It’s by a band named SonicFlood, and the song describes the strong desire of the singer to better know the God he loves so dearly. While the song is very particular in describing the very personal relationship the author has with his God (and neglects the communal relationship), this has still been a big challenge for me. At times, I have been very solitary in my relationship with God; it’s Him and me, and we do coffee without anybody else, and there’s no place for others in my walk. But at other times, I’ve swung the pendulum in the other direction and spent little to no time alone with God (this seems to be the current trend; as Dr. West says, I’ve become a “quivering mass of availability” to others). I can always tell when I’m in one or the other by what I do with my Bible; in my solitary times, the Bible sits on my nightstand by my bed, and in my communal times, it sits on my desk ready to be put into my backpack. Western Christianity wants its adherents to focus primarily on solitude, the discipline of spending time alone with God[6]. Perhaps this merely highlights western culture’s individualistic drive. But the point is that it’s about the individual growing (because God is already as grown as He’s going to get; being outside of time has its advantages).

On the other hand, community is also important. Scripture emphasizes this point throughout; at the very least, scripture itself was intended to be read in groups[7]. What we call the New Testament did not exist for the first chunk of “Christian” history; with a few exceptions, the books involved were letters to groups of people (the epistles) or were documents written to educate groups of people in the story of Christ (the gospels, with the notable exception of Luke’s gospel, written for his wealthy patron Theophilus[8]). Community includes several groups of people; family (immediate and extended), friends, mentors, mentees (“disciples” of both Christian and non-Christian flavors), small groups, work groups. But in every case, they are all “the other;” the person not-me – the woman, the impoverished, the black-skinned, the widow, the sick, the alien. In these cross-cultural experiences I must find my community.

It is fitting, then (in light of the line used to begin this section), that in my mind, the closest image I have to fit with this is that of music. Music requires both silence and sound in order to be music. The balance changes for each style of music, but in the end, both sound and silence are required to make a piece of music that is worth listening to. Silence is even called a “rest” in classical music. It is much the same in real life. The sounds of life must be offset by periods of restful silence, meditation, contemplation, prayer, and the like in order to lead a balanced (yet full) life. It is these periods of rest that enable a person – me – to continue functioning. Too much silence and I become apathetic and slothful, but too much sound and I will eventually become numb and deaf to the beauty of the music[9].

Past, Present, Future

Time is an important indicator of spiritual health that must also be balanced. While I must balance my times of solitude with my times of community, I must also balance my preoccupations with time in its three iterations: past, present, and future[10]. We learn from what has already transpired, but it is in the past that we cannot dwell, for the past is dead and gone. Likewise, we look towards the future expectantly, and it is into the future we move, a succession of present moments whose planning is today's responsibility but in which we cannot dwell because it has not yet happened. We are creatures of the present moment. But the three must be balanced.

My tendency is to live in the future; I have to have everything planned out so that when it gets here, nothing unexpected happens to throw off my plans. The trouble with this is that I always seem to be planning and spend little time enjoying what sits before me. I have so far tried to balance this with a commitment for learning history, about what has already happened. Despite my best efforts, what seems to keep happening is that I end up applying what I learn towards what will eventually happen, to better my plans. I need to learn to let go of my plans. Plans are good, don’t get me wrong, but if my plan is allowed to overrule God’s plan (and I do not allow myself to follow the momentary impulses of the Holy Spirit because they fall outside my schedule), I remain in a self-made trap. The trouble is that I cannot plan to be spontaneous nor can I plan to follow the Holy Spirit because, as the scripture says, the Spirit is like a breath of wind; nobody can guess where He’ll move next[11]. Thus, the only solution to this is prayer; prayer that God will see fit to show me how and when to move, that I’ll be listening. I must be ever mindful of the present moment, wondering if in it God is speaking to me, speaking back. For as Lewis writes, it is in this present moment that we most closely touch the infinite; thus, to balance the extremes of past and future, a present-minded reality is the remedy[12].

Art and Science

Science might be best described by words like hierarchy, mechanical, artificial, revealed. It is the world of the rigid order that cannot be broken, the world of language and structure, of order. The world can be understood and controlled, the world of logic. The artistic, on the other hand, is movement, mystery (the unexplained), naturalistic, or fluid. It is the world of the aesthetic and the ascetic, the artist and the poet, constantly celebrating that which is greater than I and cannot be understood in language alone; it cannot be controlled, only expressed and emoted. I find myself at these crossroads quite often, my pendulum swinging wildly. On the one hand, I grew up in the western enlightenment culture of logic, of science, and I often find myself drawn to explain everything, to know everything (or if I don’t, I don’t admit it and make something up to sound like I know everything). On the other hand, I have always had a certain talent for music; I play eleven instruments, I sing, and I compose. The artist in me is always fighting against the scientist, constantly telling him to give up on explaining that which is best left to awe and wonder.

But neither is truly without merit; we should try to explain the world, complicated as it is. However, there comes a point where even the most brilliant Einstein or Hawking cannot make heads or tails of something (where do emotions come from? What do women want?) and must turn to poetry, art, music to begin to make sense of it, and failing that, to express our frustration at our bewilderment yet our inexplicable joy at its mystery. Though both struggle within me, I have, as of late, erred on the side of science, of logic, of academics. I do this unintentionally, but when I realized that I had begun pushing the pendulum too far, I made it a point to join the Asbury College Jazz Ensemble and spend some time with music for a while. It is something I have decided to continue through seminary; instead of allowing my academics to completely dictate my schedule, I will be a part of at least one music group each semester (more if I think my schedule can handle it) and will make time to spend playing music with my wife. Aside from the fact that our daughter likes to listen to us and that we both enjoy it, the music moves in my soul to worship and thus should not be repressed, as it has been. I cannot let it overtake my academics either, but this is a danger far from my present circumstances.

Mission

When it comes down to it, it doesn’t much matter that I don’t yet know my calling; balance is something that must be a part of my life regardless of my circumstances. For if the path of holiness is the imitation of Christ, then certainly balance must play a key role; the Trinity Himself is the personification of balance: three-persons yet one God, mutually-submitted to one another, complimenting and reinforcing one another, growing together, creating together, relating to one another, dancing together. Mission, then, is an outpouring of that dance[13]. Balance is but a means to an end; relationship with the triune God, the mission dei, its purpose. The relationship means I participate in the dance! This means that participation in the Kingdom of God – the path to Holiness – means the furthering of the Great Commission in all its expressions, moving with the Holy Spirit to whichever culture He leads. In C.S. Lewis’ classic words, it is ever moving “onwards and upwards!” into the mountains[14]. It is the ever-present journey, the journey that death can no longer stop. It is for this that I was born, and it is for this that I continue to live.

Works Consulted

Barton, Ruth Haley. Sacred Rhythms: Arranging Our Lives for Spiritual Transformation. IVP Books: Downers Grove IL, 2006.

Claiborne, Shane. The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. Zondervan: Grand Rapids MI, 2006.

Lewis, C.S. The Screwtape Letters. HarperCollins Books: New York NY, 1942 (2001).

------------. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Last Battle.

------------. The Great Divorce. HarperCollins Books: San Francisco CA, 1946 (2001).

Seamands, Stephen. Ministry in the Image of God: The Trinitarian Shape of Christian Service. InterVarsity Press: Downers Grove IL, 2005.

Notes

[1] I can’t help but noticing that our western culture is quite similar to the last time this happened: Greece, and Rome. The two cultures (summed up in the word “Hellenist”) were very mind-centric in the meta-culture that dominated politics, academics, and philosophy (all concepts which find their lingual roots in the same time period). I also notice that the counter-cultures that sprung up during these times were very action-oriented, the proverbial pendulum swinging the other way. Truly, we have much to learn from the comparison between the two.

[2] Though they are few and far between, a notable example is the ascetics of the second and third centuries who would emaciate themselves because it was considered “spiritual” and moved them “closer to God.” I can’t imagine how these practices actually helped anybody, as it certainly didn’t help the participants. The Gnostics, as well, were preoccupied with this heresy to the point that the body was itself evil.

[3] Gluttony (overindulgence) in any form is sinful. See Dr. Martyn’s October 10, 2007 lecture on the deadly sins.

[4] In the story of the Rich Young Ruler (Luke 18:18-29), Jesus obviously values material goods in their proper context (for example, he says to the ruler to sell all he has, but never says to give it ALL to the poor, only to give to the poor). However, to the one who has everything yet still yearns for more, Jesus asks him to die to his selfishness and embrace the moderation of the kingdom of God.

[5] Perhaps cleaning out my closets of that which I do not use anymore and giving it to the Salvation Army is a good place to start on this one.

[6] Am I the only one that finds it ironic that we call it “solitude”? Isn’t it really supposed to at least be some sort of conversation with God, which means that we’re not really alone, nor are we ever?

[7] Think about it: who could afford to have their own copy of the Torah except only the wealthiest of Pharisees? Scripture was memorized by Jewish boys by the time they were ten, and then they spent the rest of their formal education (those that ended up as priests) working through scripture in the company of a Rabbi and his other disciples. In fact, this trend continued right up into the sixteenth century when Gutenberg invented the printing press; it was only after this that society was able to truly become individualistic. Scripture and community are intimately tied together.

[8] Luke 1:1.

[9] Barton, 133-145.

[10] It was through C.S. Lewis that I began to understand this concept, when I read his wonderful text (yet strangely chilling, given that it’s a series of letters from a demon), The Screwtape Letters. See pg. 75-79.

[11] John 3:8.

[12] Naturally, to be ever-mindful of the present is next to impossible; there are far too many stimuli in the world for this. Yet it is this towards which I strive. That is why I must do what I can and allow God’s grace to work in me, showing me the most important things to which to pay attention, and abandoning the rest as useless; I only have so much time, and so there really isn’t time to have both what I (the sinful I) want and what God wants. Nothing to it then but to replace what I want with what God wants. I’m pretty sure that’s in scripture somewhere (Luke 22:42).

[13] Seamands, 157-178.

[14] The Chronicles of Narnia: The Last Battle and The Great Divorce.

Decentralization in Christian Missions

The Decentralized Church
Reclaiming the Spirit of the Heterarchy for Mission

By Chris Logan

In 2006, a remarkable book was released called The Starfish and the Spider. Its authors posit that there are movements in which large groups of people behave less like organizations with a clear chain of command and more like organisms. While these organizations might have clear spokesmen, distributed power and leadership (even no discernable leader), making them hard to kill, but even more so, giving them the ability to do far more than most hierarchies, to survive harsher environments, and to proliferate at astonishing rates. They called these movements “decentralized,” and there is a remarkable correlation between this concept and the many churches through history that have succeeded where others failed.

Decentralization and the Heterarchy

The Starfish and the Spider: A Metaphor
The authors of The Starfish and the Spider use the metaphor of two animals to illustrate the nature of centralized and decentralized organizations: spiders and starfish. The spider represents a concept called “hierarchy.” It is an animal with clear structure; it has a head, a body, glands for web-spinning, legs, etc. If you were to remove, for example, a leg, the spider would be clearly wounded and have a very hard time surviving at the level it had previously enjoyed. However, remove its head, and the spider would die instantly, as the head gives life to the entire organism, directing every activity in the body. Without the head, there is no spider.

The starfish, on the other hand, represents a concept called “heterarchy,” or “decentralization,” and it is much harder to locate than a hierarchy. While the starfish and spider hold similarities in their basic shape, this is where any common thread ends. The starfish has no head. It has a varying number of arms, in which organs exist in multiple redundancies. In fact, to find the most distinct commonalities of one part of a starfish to another, you have to zoom-in to the cellular level. Instead of a brain, the starfish has a neural network spread across the entire starfish[1].

If an arm is removed, rather than damaging the organism, something remarkable happens: the starfish grows another arm to replace it. And the severed arm grows another starfish. Since there is no distinct head (and thus no distinct brain), this works to the starfish’s advantage – the organism cannot be killed in a conventional fashion. Beyond this, the starfish defies our most basic assumptions; it is a simple organism, but time and time again proves it can survive much more readily than a spider can. Cut a starfish apart and you have as many new starfish as you had pieces.

Yet often, we try to find hierarchies where there is actually heterarchy[2]. This is not to say that a heterarchy has no organization, only to say that the organization is at a different level and of a different sort than the hierarchy. In a heterarchy, units are organized at a “cellular” level, in basic units rather than in a dominating structure that requires uniformity. Each cell is unique in some way, but all are connected in a way that turns an otherwise random conglomeration into a functioning whole.

Qualities of the Decentralized Organism
Autonomy and Adaptability of Individual Units
The decentralized organism allows its individual units (called “cells”) autonomy. It is this autonomy that makes the decentralized organism so mysterious; instead of what we usually expect, the units, despite no central organization, continue to work together. For the spider-hierarchy, there is a clear structure, a clear procedure by which all things are done, a clear pathway of information. The head dictates and the body moves. In contrast, a starfish has no such pathway, rather, has multiple smaller pathways that form a network. Every part of the network has a say; in order for the starfish to move, one leg must move and convince all the others to move as well. Yet it happens at a speed that defies conventional wisdom[3].

Because cells operate with their own autonomy, the decentralized organism can be much more flexible than a hierarchy. Units at the cellular level can respond to crises on their own (re-growing a severed limb, for example), rather than spending valuable time to seek authority from a central command. In other words, they have permission to act on their own, granted by the nature of the organization.

In a hierarchy, the head requires a standard set of operating procedures for the whole organism; in a heterarchy, each cell customizes the basic operating procedures for its unique circumstances; this is called “contextualization,” the indigenization of the concepts that are common to the whole. As a result, the decentralized organism is much harder to detect than the hierarchy because it blends into the culture much more readily. In effect, a heterarchy is the result of many individual units functioning in the harmony of an organic whole. The cells become less visible, and instead of cells, we see an organism[4]. Thus, each network can be readily identified as if it were a whole greater than the sum of its parts, yet the parts themselves are just as important.

Proliferation and Contextualization
The hierarchy grows by addition, because that is the speed at which growth is possible. Because of the greater size of the “canon” that must be replicated into individual units, with greater accuracy, replication becomes slow, and time- and resource-intensive. In addition, all the additional flaws of the hierarchy are replicated into new units, and if, for some reason, new flaws occur in the replication process, these flaws are replicated into every subsequent addition to the organism. Once the cell has been “indoctrinated,” it becomes another part of the chain of command in the hierarchy. It is then encouraged to grow as big as its surrounding environment will allow. Reproduction only happens when the head of the organization allows it; thus, cells are added one at a time, rather than many at once. When decentralized organisms centralize, for example, they are effectively castrated.

Small family farmers throughout Asia have for many centuries joined together to build and manage their own irrigation systems, some of which are marvels of engineering ingenuity and operating efficiency. Yet when government programs inventoried irrigation capacity, they counted only irrigation systems built by the government. They then proceeded to replace village-built and village-managed systems with more costly, less-efficient centrally managed systems. Commonly the new systems were financed by multimillion-dollar loans from the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank, which the children of farmers would one day be taxed to pay.[5]

Heterarchy, on the other hand, relies on multiplication of much smaller units. Instead of requiring a lengthy indoctrination process, each cell is encouraged to divide and grow, divide and grow. The size of each cell is limited in size, and the amount of indoctrination required is minimal; only the basics of the core traits of the larger organism are communicated, allowing the organism to shape itself, customize itself to its environment[6]. As a result, the cells of a heterarchy tend to be much more outwardly-focused than the hierarchy, which spends much more time focused on indoctrination and internal growth than it does on expansion. In essence, the hierarchy makes new units “like us” while the heterarchy allows new units the freedom to allow the new path they’ve chosen to inform (but not dictate) their expression of the organization within their culture. Since each individual unit is focused on expansion, the organism grows by multiplication (sometimes, exponentially), rather than addition. And because each (new) cell is distinct from other cells, we call this “proliferation.”

The Rallying Point
The trouble with autonomous individual units is that they can easily go in whatever direction they desire. What forms them into a unique whole is the shared bond of the rallying-point, the collective thread between them. In our starfish example, the cells have coalesced into a whole because they share a common “DNA” that allows them to do so[8]. In some organizations, this common element might be a mutual enemy, in others, a philosophy or morality[9]. In many, it is combinations of these. Regardless, decentralized organisms require something common throughout all cells in order to be an organism.

Power, Rank, and Decentralization
The distinction between hierarchy and heterarchy is one of power and its uses. The hierarchy centralizes power into a chain of command; power is concentrated in one place, while the majority is simply expected to do as they’re told. The individual (or small group of individuals) at the “top” of the organization dictate what the organism is to do, and an order of rank decides who has what power and in what degree. Each level of subordinates participates in a “trickle-down” process that eventually communicates goals and procedures to the entire organization. The proverbial turning-radius of a centralized hierarchy, then, is equivalent to that of the Titanic with its three large propellers and single hull; it cannot change its direction very quickly when it sees an iceberg, and once it hits, there is no saving it.

The heterarchy is the equivalent of a fleet of speedboats. Not only does each boat have a very tight turning-radius, but as a group, they can swarm around the iceberg and meet at the other side. The mass of the organization is distributed into small units with many motors, and even if one or two were to hit the iceberg (and die), the group as a whole would be largely unaffected; their boats wouldn’t sink because one or two others did. In a heterarchy, power is distributed throughout the group. While this means that each cell must take individual responsibility for its own continuation (which involves a certain element of risk), it also means that the organization can respond much more quickly to icebergs and other maritime threats.

However, this is not to say that there is no rank among decentralized organizations. Some of our speedboats might be closer to the front of the pack than others, some might be able to hold more people, some might have bigger or better motors, but all are still at liberty to point out threats and help the entire group to move to avoid them. While hierarchies are breeding grounds for rank-based abuse of power,[10] heterarchies are about the beneficial use of the power used by each cell. Each unit is responsible for its unique territory or specialty. It is its own expert in that area, which predisposes other units to defer judgment about that particular area to that cell. This is a form of rank, but because power has been delegated away from any one particular center, it is decentralized and thus accountable to its peers (rather than its superiors).

The Church as a Decentralized Organism
Ideally, this is the way that the church functions. Through history, it has been when the church decentralized that the most beneficial expressions of church have happened. This happens on several levels: individual churches have a better grasp of their local culture than do the bishops or executives or reigning body supposedly “in charge,” and at the local church level, the “laity” has a better chance of impacting its culture if the local church government allows them freedom in communicating the gospel to their peers, and instead of acting as a direction agency (telling the peon-like laity what to do, which often translates into nothing), acts as an empowering agency for resourcing its laity for their mission. Perhaps some examples will clarify.

Models of Decentralization in the History of the Church

From Old Testament to New Testament: The Apostolic Church
It is interesting to note that the chosen people of God were not always decentralized. The Kingdom of Israel began in its lowliest origins as the nomadic extended family of Abraham, wandering from place to place. Throughout the Old Testament, what we see is a kingdom, a centralized entity. While there are certain elements of decentralization present (accountability between the King and the Prophet, the practice of the Jubilee), the people of Israel have long been ruled[11]. Along came Jesus and changed all that.

By this point in history, the Kingdom of Israel had a puppet king who was directed by the Roman Emperor; the ultimate abuse of rank. Jesus made a connection between Israel, the Gentiles, and a New Covenant; the Kingdom of God was at hand, and it included the whole world! No longer would the newly re-birthed Israel be ruled by puppet kings or powerful rulers. The Kingdom of God would belong to the meek, the humble, the poor, the servants. Jesus, in effect, distributed power across the kingdom in these very simple statements[12]. No longer were the few powerful in God’s kingdom; earthly power of kings and rulers held no sway. If you wanted to lead, you were to become a servant to others: “In humility consider others better than yourself[13].” It is in the theology of servant leadership that we find the primary decentralizing tendencies of the church. To serve one another in humility distributes power amongst everyone. If everyone plays their part, the needs of everyone are met. But it only works so long as it is intrinsically motivated within each person, so long as it is chosen. If it is forced, if it is externally-motivated, the power begins to centralize to that which is external, and the organism becomes a hierarchy (and thus loses any identity with the Kingdom of God).

Nowhere is this more evident for the first-century church than in the writings of Paul. Paul understood the church as a leveled playing field where power has been redistributed. “Neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus[14].” Paul took a common focus – Christ Jesus – and marked it as a rallying point for what is otherwise a random assortment of people and peoples with little in common. Likewise in Ephesians 4, Paul writes that the many are to be one, united in their common goals though different in their expressions.

However, the first church did not always follow this model. Its mandate was given by Jesus in Matthew 28: “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the father and of the son and of the Holy Spirit[15] …” And yet the first thing the disciples (now apostles) did upon receiving the Holy Spirit was to remain in Jerusalem and centralize. In chapter 6 of Acts, the apostles begin appointing position of authority, a sure sign of centralization. It took a “great persecution” to scatter the church away from their comfort in Jerusalem[16].

At this point things start to get interesting. Philip went to Samaria, and while there, encountered an Ethiopian. The Ethiopian, upon conversion, went back to his people (presumably the ancient kingdom of Ethiopia)[17]. Peter also began preaching as he traveled, making it as far as Joppa. Others also traveled to Antioch, Cyprus, and Phoenicia[18]. However, once again, we see the church attempt to centralize. The council at Jerusalem in Acts 15 sparks a debate about the Gentiles that have converted; are they to become Jewish before they are allowed to become Christian? This debate shows that the Jerusalem church was trying to take power itself; instead of allowing contextualized expression of the truth learned by many Gentiles, the Jewish Christians wanted to mandate their way of doing things as the universal norm. Fortunately, the prevailing opinion was that of Peter and Paul, who were in favor of the indigenous church[19]. It is after this period that the greatest growth happens, as Paul has converted and embarked on his missionary journeys, planting churches all over the Roman world. Thomas even made it to India[20]. Various persecutions rocked the Christian world yet the church was not diminished; in fact, it grew[21].

It is unfortunate, then, that in the early fourth century Constantine centralized the church by making it the official religion of the Roman Empire. He appointed positions to priests and bishops, but most importantly, funded the church and began building structures (both physical and social) in which it could settle down. It is after this period that Christianity turned from persecuted to persecutor, decentralized mass-movement to centralized conquerors. With centralization – and thus power – the church did not forget its original mandate, but instead embarked upon it with revised methods. Instead of proclaiming the truth and allowing it to transform people(s) from within (including the benevolent humanitarian work so despised by the Emperor Julian[22] and others), the newly centralized Christendom began preoccupying themselves with conquest (mission by force, as it were) and theology (the council of Nicaea and others) rather than contextualized mission for the propagation of the church.[23]

The Celtic Church
The Celtic Christian movement, begun by St. Patrick in the fifth century, is another example of decentralized Christianity at its best. From the start, the movement was promising, as there were several native factors working in Patrick’s favor: the tribal nature of the Irish, well known for their rivalry, predisposed them to a decentralized model (tribes are akin to cell-groups). Patrick himself had been a slave in Ireland for several years, learning the native language and customs and building credibility with the Irish through both[24]. Combined with Patrick’s exceptionally creative skill as an orator and singer/storyteller (in Ireland, called a Bard), the Celtic movement became a movement of the people, rather than that of the ruling classes forcing their will. The British Bishops were upset with Patrick for the very reason that he spent so much time “’pagans,’ ‘sinners,’ and ‘barbarians.’”[25]

Most importantly, the Celtic Church did not allow power to centralize in one place. Rather, power was distributed across many different tribes, each to their own, and the movement took hold as each tribe sent out missionaries to the next; it proliferated, multiplied. Patrick took special precautions not to be the person in charge; rather, he sent evangelists out who could not report to him (for example, Hilda and Brigid[26]), who he could not control. Furthermore, these evangelists worked in teams. As George Hunter writes, “Celtic Christians usually evangelized as a team – by relating to the people of a settlement; identifying with the people; engaging in friendship, conversation, ministry, and witness – with the goal of raising up a church in measurable time[27].”

Patrick, thus, was simply a catalyst, a figurehead that bore out Celtic Christianity in its natural form, not the charismatic leader of a centralized structure. And it was this movement that was responsible for reaching an entire people! The Romans had sent missionaries, but it was Patrick (and others, not the least of whom were the Celts themselves) who led the charge in an entirely new (yet ancient) method of mission that succeeded. By decentralizing their approach, by trusting the teams to their tasks, by spreading power around through networks rather than centralizing in one place, the Celtic movement reached Ireland for Christ.

The China Inland Mission
Until the opening of China to the west in the early 19th century, the Chinese interior had not met Christian missionaries since the early days of Christian expansion. The Chinese, notoriously xenophobic, had isolated themselves, claiming a certain cultural superiority over the rest of the world, and decided to remain “pure” from outside influence. That is, until the second European war with China ended in 1858 and, among other things, granted safe passage for Christians beyond the trading ports on the coastline[28]. An onslaught of mission followed, the most notorious of which was led by one Hudson Taylor.

The Chinese Inland Mission (CIM) has long been regarded as different from every other missionary movement in China, and with good reason. Taylor founded the movement on revolutionary principles, the most unique of which was that the CIM society’s headquarters were to be located in China (a first for the 19th-century mission societies). However, central to our interest is the makeup of the CIM missionary body: anybody could join; the proverbial door was opened for those with little or no formal education. All that Taylor asked was that the missionaries adopt Chinese dress and the local dialect as their own, and that the society be ever-focused on the evangelization of the Chinese[29].

Here we see many decentralized tendencies. Though he did have a headquarters, Taylor could not control the expansion of the CIM into China; it spread like wildfire. The constituents were of every class, and while few mass-movements were ever recorded, the mission truly targeted the largest groups of people. Power was thus spread across a wide group. Those that did convert were not removed from their villages and placed in mission compounds (as had been the practice in so many places), but instead became missionaries themselves. About a patient healed from a cystic tumor, Jennie Logan, a CIM medical missionary in Changteh (now Changde, in Hunan Province), wrote, “In three weeks she went back to her country home and told what had been done for her, and that it was at the “Jesus Hospital” where she had been healed. She was preaching and telling about the Gospel all day long.[30] …” In other words, the movement proliferated.

The last telling sign comes at the advent of the Boxer Rebellion in 1900. When the call came from Peking (from the central government) to kill all foreigners within China, the nation rose up and obeyed. Many of the converted Chinese Christians did their best to protect their missionary comrades, but in the end, the only thing that stopped the rebellion was a military force of several different nations making its way to Peking to quell the violence[31]. Most telling, though, is that many Christians survived the uprising (though many also perished)[32] and the movement continued until the Communists took over beginning in 1927. Even today, a strong movement has resurfaced in China among the house churches, which are proliferating at an astonishing rate[33]. In any case, the Chinese indigenous church has withstood the test of time, despite many persecutions, because of its decentralized nature.

The Masai and Vincent Donovan
The last movement I’d like to explore is that of the Masai in Kenya and Tanzania in the late 1960s. Vincent Donovan, a Spiritan priest of the Catholic Church, moved there in 1965 as a young man ready to do the work of the church. But scarcely had he been there a year when he realized that nothing of much significance was happening at the mission compound. Standard practice was to help the Masai with their material needs, but little else. While the priests of the Catholic mission visited the Masai villages often (called Kraals), they did not see fit to mention the gospel. Only in the safety of the mission compound and missions schools was the gospel ever mentioned, and at that, very few Masai graduates ever retained the new religion[34]. The centralized nature of the mission compound was affecting its primary calling: to evangelize the Masai.

Instead of work through the hierarchy of the Catholic Church to enact change, Donovan decided to take it upon himself to take the gospel to the Masai personally. He packed up a Ute and drove across the plains to meet the Masai face to face in their own context. He spoke their language, and he used local culture and illustrations to teach. His basic strategy was to spend one day a week with a particular tribe, teaching them what he knew of the Gospel in whatever form was required for their understanding, and then move along a circuit to another tribe (to repeat the process). At the end of a year, he would ask the tribe as a whole (Masai culture is community-oriented, not individual-oriented) whether they would accept Jesus as Lord. If they did not, then he would move on to the next Kraal. If the tribe did accept (which ended up being far more frequent than Donovan expected), first was baptism of everyone in the kraal, then an announcement: the kraal would be responsible for teaching itself, and for evangelizing the tribes around it[35]. Donovan told them he would no longer come back to teach, but would move on to another group of kraals (though he would return occasionally to check on their progress)[36].

Once again, Donovan had several advantages going into his mission that seem to appear so rarely throughout Church history (though it is possible, however grievously, that the church simply hasn’t noticed them). The Masai are a decentralized people already; spiritual, nomadic, and used to communal life, they are ideal candidates for a decentralized church. Donovan also had the trouble of distance to cover between kraals, meaning he could not simply plant himself in one place and invite the Masai to him. In addition, because Donovan was alone, he could not rely on his own inexhaustible supply of teaching energy, knowledge, and wisdom to evangelize the Masai, but instead was nearly forced to rely on the locals to begin teaching themselves. The power, then, was in the hands of each kraal, not in some central location. Donovan’s decentralized method, though it did not convince every tribe he visited (some said “no,” as was their right[37]), it was remarkably successful in its aims.

Why the Church Resists Decentralization

While I wish I had more space to talk about the Wesley Networks (mid/late 18th century), John Williams and the South Pacific (early 19th century), the CMA Organic Church movement in California (present day), and others, the real issue is why this seems to be the exception, rather than the rule. Despite the many advantages of a decentralized heterarchy, the Church still, to this day, resists the change. Decentralization is about power, and those with power are rarely persuaded to abandon it, even those in positions of authority within a church, the place where servant-hearted leadership should be the norm, not the exception.

It is when one person’s work becomes more important than another’s that a church begins centralizing and eliminating the dignity of its constituents. Sadly, this has been the pattern throughout history. The very existence of two groups (the clergy and the laity) proves this point: we still do not see our laity as missionaries, and we see our clergy as more holy, more spiritual than the unenlightened masses that go about their daily jobs blissfully unaware of the structure that has been taught them since birth. That movements of a decentralized nature have been revived through history is a note of hope, that the church can still recover its ancient mandate, but the process is slow and painful. In some respects, the reclaiming of their apostolic authority by the people is of utmost importance.

The people are stronger than their leaders, by sheer numbers, and if they change their minds as one, there is no stopping the cascade that follows. However, people can be tricked into submitting to authority by empty promises or the sheer charisma of the occasional leader, or by our human nature as “sheep,” which prefer to be led rather than to lead[38]. The few that do stand up to lead often become drunk with the power they’ve been given, and abuse their rank.

To decentralize the church, then, requires a miracle of God. It requires us to lean on the Holy Spirit like never before; it is not by our own power that heterarchy can work. Yet it has happened, when those with power and charisma have led those in their influence to greener pastures and then given away that power to the people. Decentralization is dangerous, it is messy, and it is uncontrollable, but when the rare leader sees its potential and hears the whisper of God in his ear, a movement is unleashed that will once again change the world.

Works Consulted

Church and Mission History

Bevans, Stephen B, and Schroeder, Roger P. Constants in Context: A Theology for Mission Today, Third Edition. Orbis Books: MaryKnoll NY, 2006.
Neill, Stephen. A History of Christian Missions, Second Edition. Penguin Books: London England, 1986.
Tucker, Ruth A. From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya: A Biographical History of Christian Missions, Second Edition. Zondervan: Grand Rapids MI, 2004.
Walls, Andrew F. The Missionary Movement in Christian History: Studies in the Transmission of Faith, Tenth Edition. Orbis Books: MaryKnoll NY, 2005.

Decentralized/Missional/Organic Church

Claiborne, Shane. The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. Zondervan: Grand Rapids MI, 2006.
Cole, Neil. Organic Church: Growing Faith Where Life Happens. Jossey-Bass: San Francisco CA, 2005.
Donovan, Vincent J. Christianity Rediscovered. Orbis Books: MaryKnoll NY, 1978.
Frost, Michael. Exiles: Living Missionally in a Post-Christian Culture. Hendrickson Publishers: Peabody MA, 2006.
Hirsch, Alan. The Forgotten Ways: Reactivating the Missional Church. Brazos Press: Grand Rapids MI, 2006.
Hirsch, Alan and Frost, Michael. The Shaping of Things to Come: Innovation and Mission for the 21st Century Church. Hendrickson Publishers: Peabody MA, 2003.
Hunter, George G. The Celtic Way of Evangelism: How Christianity Can Reach the West … Again. Abingdon Press: Nashville TN, 2000.
Hunter, George G. Radical Outreach: The Recovery of Apostolic Ministry & Evangelism. Abingdon Press: Nashville TN, 2003.
Logan, Jennie Manget. Little Stories of China. Self-Published, No Publishing Date Available.
McLaren, Brian. A Generous Orthodoxy: Why I am a Missional + Evangelical + Post/Protestant + Liberal/Conservative + Mystical/Poetic + Biblical + Charismatic/Contemplative + Fundamentalist/Calvinist + Anabaptist/Anglican + Methodist + Catholic + Green + Incarnational + Depressed-Yet-Hopeful+ Emergent + Unfinished Christian. Zondervan: Grand Rapids MI, 2004.
Seamands, Stephen. Ministry in the Image of God: The Trinitarian Shape of Christian Service. InterVarsity Press: Downers Grove IL, 2005.

Group Dynamics

Brafman, Ori and Beckstrom, Rod A. The Starfish and the Spider: The Unstoppable Power of Leaderless Organizations. Penguin Group: New York NY, 2006.
Fuller, Robert W. All Rise: Somebodies, Nobodies, and the Politics of Dignity. Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc: San Francisco CA, 2006.
Korten, David C. The Great Turning: From Empire to Earth Community. Berrett-Koehler Publishers: San Francisco CA, 2006.
Lencioni, Patrick. The Five Dysfunctions of a Team: A Leadership Fable. Jossey-Bass: San Francisco CA, 2002.
Walker, Danielle; Walker, Thomas; and Schmitz, Joerg. Doing Business Internationally: The Guide to Cross-Cultural Success. McGraw Hill: New York NY, 2003.

Human Psychology

The Arbinger Institute. Leadership and Self-Deception: Getting Out of the Box. Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc: San Francisco CA, 2002.
Deci, Edward L. and Ryan, Richard M. Intrinsic Motivation and Self Determination in Human Behavior. Plenum Press: New York NY, 1985.
Langer, Ellen J. Mindfulness. Da Capo Press: Cambridge MA, 1989.

Websites

Bible Gateway: http://www.biblegateway.com/
Wikipedia: http://www.wikipedia.org/

Notes

[1] Brafman, 35.
[2] Ibid., 36.
[3] Ibid., 35. It is remarkable the similarities that can be drawn to a flock of birds, or a school of fish, or, closer to home, a riotous mob of people.
[4] For example, instead of a set of individual birds flying around, we see a flock changing direction as one.
[5] Korten, 10.
[6] Cole, 124.
[7] Brafman, 54-55.
[8] Cole,113-121.
[9] If what appears to be a decentralized group coalesces around an individual, he is usually a figurehead only; his power is like that of others, but his gift is the ability to disseminate a message. In other words, he is not in charge. The best way to tell if such an organization is truly decentralized is if it continues in like fashion after he dies or leaves, or if it disintegrates. If the organization continues, the individual was a figurehead, if the organization dies, then the individual relied on his charisma only to centralize the organization.
[10] Fuller, 7.
[11] At some level, this was self-inflicted. Recall the request of the Israelites for a king to rule them in 1 Samuel 8.
[12] Matthew 5-6, Luke 6.
[13] Philippians 2:3-4.
[14] Galatians 3:26-29 (TNIV).
[15] Matthew 28:19 (TNIV).
[16] Acts 8:1-3.
[17] Acts 8:26ff.
[18] Acts 11:19-20.
[19] Acts 15:
[20] Neill, 45.
[21] Ibid., 35.
[22] Ibid., 37.
[23] Ibid., 41, 43; and Radical Outreach, 60.
[24] The Celtic Way of Evangelism, 91.
[25] Ibid., 24.
[26] Radical Outreach, 103.
[27] The Celtic Way of Evangelism, 47.
[28] Neill, 274.
[29] Ibid., 283.
[30] Logan, 36. I am fortunate enough to have come by this manuscript because it is a family heirloom. Jennie Logan was my Great-Great-Grandmother, and in addition to this testimony, her work is the only I have read so far describing any sort of mass-movement in China during the period between 1850 and 1950.
[31] Neill, 287-288.
[32] Logan, 29.
[33] The Forgotten Ways, 19.
[34] Donovan, 12-13.
[35] In some instances, this had already begun taking place. As he instructed them, certain individuals began standing out from the group who picked up on the message more quickly than others. Donovan began using these to help teach their brethren. See pg. 84.
[36] Ibid., 72.
[37] Ibid., 81.
[38] My friend Troy once gave a sermon about this. He was confounded that there are so many illustrations of the church as a flock of sheep, given that sheep, in his eyes, are so dumb; they stand where they shouldn’t, they move away from the shepherd where there is danger, and they’ll lag behind the flock to much on one more tidbit of grass. It takes a strong shepherd to keep a flock moving in the right direction. Then he realized how much like sheep people can really be, and he made it a sermon illustration.