pondering wild goose: Ian Cron and post-cynical christianity

It couldn't have been a coincidence that "Wonder for Cynics" at 1:00 was immediately followed by "Post Cyncial Christianity" at 2:00.  I wonder how many of us walked straight from The Exodus tent to The Shadow tent Friday afternoon?

I can hear some of you who know me, wondering: "What's with all the focus on cynicism, Michelle? You don't come across that way. Is there something you're not telling us?"

Well... yeah, I guess so.  It turns out the natural tendency (temptation?) for someone who makes a major shift of any kind, spiritually  or politically (or any other "ly") is cynicism.  I have fought it both within (my own soul needs no help with this) and without (many speak as if it's their mother tongue).  I fight to maintain an attitude of hope, to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, to walk my own journey with inward peace ... but that fight has left me weary, at times.  And as everyone knows, temptations are far more tempting when we're tired.

So yes, I confess - I've been tired lately.  Which meant anytime I saw the word "cynic" on the schedule, I was there... because I knew I needed to be.  And I wasn't disappointed.

I had to run the kids to their tent, first, where I ran into my friend Meredith.  She agreed a talk with "post-cynical" in the title sounded like something she wanted to be a part of, too, so she came along.  But she knew something I didn't: the speaker, Ian Cron (whose name I didn't think I recognized) is an author.  She was describing his book, when I suddenly realized, "Wait - I read that book, too! I love that book! Oh!...."  ( wave of realization).  Jesus, My Father, The CIA and Me: A Memoir... of Sorts is a great read.  In fact, I remember reading it thinking, "I'd like to write a book like this one day" - smart, compelling, inspiring.  Check it out.

 Here are my raw notes from the talk.  You can actually listen to Ian recap his Wild Goose experience, and this topic, here (recommended!)

grief and rage following painful church experience (Episcopalian priest)

moved family to Nashville to reboot - thought would be safe - found it to be most religiously cynical place EVER "people are f*ing pissed in Nashville"

same old narrative: "church sucks, but we love Jesus" - cynicism contagious - running negative editorial in mind

it's in vogue to be self-loathing Christians situated on the fringe of established church

Andrew Byers quote "the edgy spirituality of the jaded"

the event that seeded our cynicism really hurt like hell - whether one event or 1,000 little robberies

"we" reject the fear based spirit of anti-intellectualism, "they" protect their certainty with rage & anger

on receiving end of that when perceived as a threat - it hurts!

there's nothing like religious wounding

realized some things about himself over time:
1. I wasn't enlightened, I'd just become a jerk.
2. Cynicism masks laziness. I didn't want to "be the change", I just wanted to bitch about it.
3. Cynicism is freaking delicious. 

decided he must CHANGE - couldn't stand himself anymore - wanted to live as a resurrection person

answer: realistic hopefulness

open-hearted vs a defended heart (pusila anime, "closed soul")

in curvitas se - turned in on oneself, ugly

to live with undefended heart is to live like Jesus, with potential for more joy AND more pain than ever known

Dan Allender: "You cannot hope if you cannot grieve" (work through grief)

you have more to offer the world than your smirk!

Brown quote: "owning our stories and loving ourselves in the process is the bravest thing we'll ever do"

read The Reluctant Saint (on Francis)

need compassionate clear-eyed open heartedness to prophetically critique the situation of the church

don't criticize, just do it better! (Francis of Assisi)

let my LIFE ... BE... a prophetic critique

I don't feel the need to elaborate much, here.  I am grateful Ian shared his story, and that he confessed to us as he did.  I've not experienced anything like the pain he experienced from "church" - if anything, I've been a "victim" of "1,000 little robberies" over the course of my life-of-faith.  But I have tasted the succulent sweetness of cynicism.  Ian reminded me (comparison mine) that it can be like Edmund's Turkish Delight - one bite and all you want is more (especially when it leaves you feeling smart and superior).  But it's ugly, and it makes me ugly.  It makes us ugly.  "Justified" or not, there's a better way.

We do have more to offer the world than our smirk. 

Ghandi was right, "Be the change!"  

Francis of Assisi was right, "Just do it better!"

And Ian is right, "Let my life... BE... a prophetic critique".

Amen.

pondering wild goose: frank schaeffer

Francis Schaeffer is a name I’m well familiar with - not only from my years growing up as a member of Thomas Road Baptist Church and a graduate of both Lynchburg (now Liberty) Christian Academy and Liberty University (Jerry Falwell's, for those that don't know).  His influence was even more prominent at the Calvinist, Reformed Baptist church my husband and I attended for several years as a young married couple.  Frank is his son, and he's become famous (or infamous) in his own right:  to conservatives, he's considered a traitor - to progressives, a bit of a hero.  But it turns out, he's just a man - a husband, father, and grandather who writes for the Huffington Post from time to time and has several books out (Patience with God was especially good).  He is one of many post-evangelical, post-religious-right, next-generation voices that I find (whether I agree with them or not) that I can relate to, given our shared background.  Jay Bakker is another.  Frank's tone hasn't always been what I’d call kind, but I must admit there's a certain appeal to someone who shoots straight and doesn't leave you wondering what he really thinks.

Frank Schaeffer, Wonder for Cynics

I’d only highlighted a few sessions in my copy of the Wild Goose schedule, ones I intended to make certain not to miss: Friday afternoon's "Wonder For Cynics with Frank Schaeffer" at 1:00 was one of them.  The kids and I shared lunch at the campsite, then hurried back to catch his talk. The youth/kids activities didn't pick up again until 2, so I tried to play it off positive: "You can rest in the shade with your hand-held fans while I listen".  They were less than enthused.  Still, Frank's dynamic style held their interest, and his occasional use of four-letter-words kept their ears perked.  He even made them laugh out loud a few times!

As we arrived , Frank was passionately recommending the movie Hellbound, which many had seen in a premiere screening the night before; unfortunately, I missed it (by the time it started at 11, we were sound asleep).  It comes out officially this fall, and Frank seems to think it will be a “game changer”. I’d like to hope it will help open honest conversation on the matter, but I admit I’m pretty jaded.  Love Wins by Rob Bell had great potential for opening up conversation, too.  That’s not exactly what happened, though - most folks responded by retreating further into their prospective corners.  Maybe he’s right, though ... maybe this time it will be different.



For those who watched that preview and are still willing to read further :) I’ll share the raw version of my notes from Frank’s talk before elaborating further.  He reviewed his background, then explained that he now worships at an Orthodox Church with his family, including grandaughter Lucy.  Much of his talk had to do with her - so much so that, after praising President Obama for a bit, he joked, "Now, you may ask, what - is he God? No, of course not! He's not even Lucy!"

Notes:

exile, experience of leaving – get to other side – but what’s next?

what comes after cynicism?

true understanding of GRACE

talking to his granddaughter = talking to Jesus

“words that now have greatest spiritual impact on my life are words of love from family”

recalls weight of doubt - Christopher Hitchens asked, “But why aren’t you an atheist?”

book Patience with God

child looking on you with love is the face of God: sees you as you wish you were, doesn’t know your history (or care to know)

unconditional love

intersection between faith and doubt for burnt out cynics is LOVE

for him now, comfort doesn’t come from a book, comes from love every day right in front of me

seems oversimplified

what’s left? pass on compassion

granddaughter Lucy “Are you upset with me?” “No, there’s nothing I love more in the world than you”

kind word to stranger could literally save their life

science tells us energy came before matter – that energy is LOVE – that energy is GOD

Lucy healed him to where he’ll now give a clear cut answer after years of mistrust – she asked “who made the rock?” and without blinking he said “God did”

“someday I want her to come to a kind of faith like this" – "let’s fight for the witness of the gospel”

when in season of doubt, ideas will not save you, you’ll never figure it out – love someone unconditionally, let them love you unconditionally, show compassion for all, treat someone with decency and you will feel decent

As I copy the above words from pencil-scribble-in-a-notebook to official-looking-type, I feel a familiar sensation.  Anxiety whispers, “this is heresy”.  But here’s the thing about Frank – he’s not afraid of heresy anymore, he's too invested in what has real value.  He has nothing left to lose, and nothing more to prove - not to himself or anyone else.  He doesn’t feel the need to make the words sound “correct” or “safe”. 

Now, me - I could rewrite every phrase above in “Christianese”, then support each one with proof texts.  They’d say pretty much the same things, but sound more acceptable - less risky.  But I’m not going to do that, and I’m glad Frank doesn’t.  Because someone else refused to play that game.  He spoke so plainly, with words so true but so shockingly human that the religious leaders literally tore their clothes in response.  We don’t talk about faith that way anymore, most of us.

Is Frank Jesus?  Not hardly.  But I liked the earthiness with which he spoke.  Thirty years away from evangelicalism have clearly freed him from the need to filter every word phrase through a mental doctrine-detector before uttering them.  This realization, on my part, was probably the biggest take-away from his session:  I gained a fresh appreciation for courageous clarity, along with a determination to develop more of the same in my own words, whether spoken or captured in print.

Frank in the dunk tank

Frank also said that last year’s Wild Goose sent him home a kinder, gentler man.  This made me smile. I’d never met the young right wing evangelical poster-boy Frank, or the cynical reactionary Frank who came later.  But I have met the “kinder, gentler” Frank.  We walked together for a bit, sharing a private conversation which I enjoyed immensely.  Tiny things, from his concern that I not be run off the road by a passing golf cart, to his genuine interest in each of my children, to his intense attention for the details of my own story, impressed upon me the beauty of a life lived (as Richard Beck describes) ex curvitas se, outward toward others.  And that's sweet fruit, if you ask me.

I left touched by the (yes) miraculous, healing power of experiencing the gospel of grace - minus its false baggage – amongst a community of bravely honest people.  It's changing Frank.  It’s changing many of us Wild Geese.  And that is why we cannot shrink back when others warn “heresy!”  What's at stake is worth the risk. There exists a pearl of great price… a Kingdom not built with human hands, where Justice and Peace kiss and Love does indeed win.  We’ve caught a glimpse of it, and we’ll not be the same.

The Spirit of Wonder still woos the most jaded of cynics.

pondering wild goose: sustainable communities

The Wild Goose schedule works like this - every hour there are up to 8 things going on at one time, at various venues throughout the property.  Inevitably, there are time slots where nothing grabs you and others where you desperately want to be in two places at once.

Wild Goose kids' tent

Friday, following morning prayer, I dropped Aaron & Sarah off at the kids' tent (which, by the way, was awesome!) then had a long conversation with a young woman who works with people who have autism.  Her point of view gave me hope that faith communities are beginning to "get" the absolute necessity of embracing neurodiversity.  Our talk meant that I walked into the session on Sustainable Communities a bit late.

I was stand-off-ish about this session.  I live in a big house in the suburbs; I'm not Shane Claibourne by any stretch of the imagination.  But Tom Sine and Matt Pritchard weren't asking us to leave their tent and "sell all we have to the poor" (not immediately, anyway).  They took turns describing various intentional communities in existence right now across the country, which I found interesting.

My scattered notes:

look up "peace church theology" (Mennonites)

the future is changing - re-imagine an economy more festive & celebrated that costs less

school loans & house in suburbs grossly high percentage income, keep us from doing good we long to do in world

book The New Conspirators 

nothing in scripture says work 40 hours a week

cohousing.org invented in Denmark 50 years ago - look up

cross race, class, culture, intergenerational

mustard seed village - look up

you can live together without living off each other

if you can't sell your house open it up to community, transitional people/families, etc

series on NPR family matters - look up

So... what?  Here's where I've come to, so far, as I reflect on what I learned.

I do want to look up the various terms and books listed above.  I feel ill informed on this topic and it overwhelms me, somewhat, like I'm in a class I missed the prerequisites for ... but I am genuinely interested.  As a family of 6, it's not realistic for us to consider any major changes, but I do want us to be open to inviting others into our home. I believe that will happen more over the years, but frankly, right now, the one we have welcomed is still adjusting in many ways, so I feel no pressure to make any sudden changes, that way.  The one point I do want to take action on is figuring out the garden thing - either planting fruit bushes in our own yard, or joining in a community garden at a separate, nearby site.  This is something I know nothing about, but I have green-thumbed friends. It's time to learn.

What I really took away from this session has more to do with how we advise the kids, as they are growing up and planning their futures. Right now they are 13, 11, 10, and 8 - middle school is here, high school right around the corner.  What will their goals look like?  Are school loans worth it? Is college the only option, or even the best option, for all kids?  Will they follow their passions or accept a job that "pays well"?  Must the two be mutually exclusive?  As they enter adulthood, how can they make conscious choices that ensure they remain free - free to live lives that both make them happy, and do the most good in this world?

I came away with a fresh sense that kids approaching college and adulthood have options, many of them radically counter-cultural.  Some look at the future with doom and gloom because the unsustainable bubble of Western prosperity is bursting, but we need not view things that way.  I am hopeful that the next generation can avoid the trappings and mistakes ours has made - that they can be much, much happier with less.  If so, they will be better for it, and so will the world.

I can't say what the future looks like for my kids and their families, but I'm excited for them....  I really am.

pondering the wild goose: morning prayer

Mornings at the Wild Goose Festival were wonderful. As I'd open my eyes to the sun peeking through the trees, one or both of the children would be staring at me, silently - watching me sleep. Which I found touching, considering how many times I've done the same with them.  One of the beauties of camping.

One morning little Molly came over to visit during breakfast. Another, I chatted with tent-neighbors Margie and Allana, young 20-somethings who had driven down from New Jersey.  And another, I was invited over to chat with tent-neighbors Jack and Carol, a delightful couple of my parents' generation who had come up from Georgia.  But I always excused myself in time to make it to morning prayer.

At 9 am Brian McLaren greeted those of us who staggered in, coffee in hand, not quite recovered from too-late talking or singing or dancing the night before.  Each day it was the same; he began by having us sing this song, which we'd start in a low key, then inch it up and up until we were singing it high and loud.  It really was beautiful.



Then someone else would lead us in this prayer, in a read/response fashion:

 Almighty God, to You all hearts are open, all desires known, and from You no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of Your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love You, and worthily magnify Your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Someone would then read to us about a martyr - I specifically remember Martin Bishop of Tours and Hildegard. Inspiring stories of service and sacrifice.

Then Brian led us in singing the Lord's Prayer a new way.  First, though, we were invited to be fully present.  Remove your shoes.  Feel the grass.  Hear the birds.  Pray with your eyes OPEN. 



Then Pam Wilhelms led us in portions of the prayer from St. Patrick - each morning we added a bit more.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through the belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth with his baptism,
Through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,
Through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,
Through the strength of his descent for the judgment of Doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of Cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In prayers of patriarchs,
In predictions of prophets,
In preaching of apostles,
In faith of confessors,
In innocence of holy virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness,
Of the Creator of Creation.

At this point, we were asked to form groups of 6 or so.  We were given a passage of scripture and instructed that one person should read it aloud, then we sit in silence.  Someone else should read it aloud, then we sit in silence.  Finally, someone else read it aloud, then sit in silence.

Then we were invited to discuss the passage.  It was very good for me to hear others' perspectives, especially since Brian had not given us easy passages to discuss (one morning our reading was Psalm 137).

What really stuck with me though, was that each morning I met new people.  I remember the 3 fresh-faced college boys who came together, the couple who run a farm outside of Danville, VA, the young woman who is writing her dissertation for seminary on The Theology of Autism, the young man who I could tell just needed a hug so I asked if I could give him one and tears filled his eyes as he said "yes, please" (later, I saw him laughing as he danced it up during the parade), and the couple who met in AA, were recently married, and have started a ministry of their own in Tennessee.  I remember them - and they remember me.

Following group time, we were invited to stand and recite the prayer of Francis (which I can't say without hearing The Brilliance in my head)

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love.

Where there is injury, pardon.

Where there is doubt, faith.

Where there is despair, hope.

Where there is darkness, light.

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive.

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.

And finally, in closing, we clasped hands and sang Brian's song, from Teresa of Avila



I am grateful to Brian for sharing this time with us each day, and for inspiring me to use many of these tools here at home with our family and with other groups I may be given to lead.  So simple, so worshipful, so inspiring...

Morning prayer was like fresh wind blowing over the embers of my heart.

(next up, I reflect on my notes from the session on Sustainable Communities)

pondering the wild goose: thursday's reflections

Yesterday we returned from 4 days and nights at the Wild Goose Festival at Shakori Hills (right here in North Carolina).  I chose not to bring the laptop along, opting instead to take vigorous notes (over 20 pages worth), which I look forward to sharing here in the form of multiple posts. Now home relaxing on the deck, the sounds and sights of our backyard woods call my mind and heart back to Shakori Hills.

We arrived Thursday afternoon and set up camp in 95 degree heat and humidity.  My middle two, Aaron (11) and Sarah (10) were real troopers, helping their Mama remember everything Daddy taught us during our practice run in the front yard.  He couldn't come along, due to a big weekend event of his own back home, so we asked grandparents and friends to help occupy the oldest (Luke) and youngest (Mary), for whom the festival would have been far more challenging.  Once the tent was up and the car unloaded, I gave the two of them some money with instructions to find out whether the food vendors were open.  Hot and exhausted, their choice of ice cream for dinner was completely fine by me! 


I missed the opening ceremony, and chose not to participate in the evening's scheduled talks. All I cared about that first night was chilling on a blanket and listening to music.  I needed to get into the space, needed a buffer zone from the flurry of home.


I was not disappointed. 

Aradhna

 

That night the kids and I lounged under the stars as Aradhna taught us new songs and Josh Garrels sang songs we knew by heart.  Our friends sat nearby, stars shone above us, and the breeze finally blew cool comfort our way.  I felt my breathing slow, my face relax, and my spirit awaken.

I was ready - SO ready ... or so I thought at the time.

 But far more awaited me than I'd bargained for.

Stay tuned.

pondering memories

I grow weary of people bemoaning technology. Longing for the old days.  Here's the thing - everything is what you make of it.  Everything.

Photo albums can be wonderful, or photos can sit in a box and never be looked at.  It's what you've made of them that matters.

I wasn't much of a scrap-booker, myself, but my oldest were born in the BOOM of all things scrapbook, so I felt like I didn't have a choice.  By the time our third came around I'd pretty much thrown in the towel on the whole thing, so she was five before she had a baby book!  Thankfully Mary's was easier - by then technology had caught up to my way of doing things.  We had her adoption blog printed into book form.  Voila - done!

But this, I can do - videos set to music.  I love making them - the kids love watching them.  And oh do they watch them!  Again and again... which is, of course, the point.  Sure, I love it when others (you!) enjoy what I've put together, but I'm fully aware that I'm no expert.  These aren't of a quality to impress; they're made for the kids.

I decided to link them all (or as many of them as I can recollect at the moment) in one place, here.  Enjoy.  Or don't.  But do make some memories of your own, and capture them in a way that makes you happy and that your family will enjoy for years to come!

2003



2004



2005



2006 (the year we brought teenager Megan along!)



2007



2008



2008 - Mary's adoption video!



2009



2010



January 2011 - Disney!



Spring Break 2011 - Road Trip/Tour of the Southeast



2012 - Back to HHI

pondering parenting: credits in confidence

“Hey sweetie, I could use some help. Would you empty these water bottles, refill them, and put them in the garage fridge?”

This task is more complicated for our youngest than it would be for most kids her age.  She asked several dozen questions, which I most often answered with, “I don’t know, you decide” or “You can figure that out on your own”.

It took her a long time.  She had to mop up the floor a few times.  And we discovered later that one of the 6 water bottles leaked all over the inside of the refrigerator because she didn't stand it upright and failed to seal the lid well.

None of that would have happened if I’d stood over her. Directed her. “Helped” her. But a lot more wouldn’t have happened, either.

She wouldn’t have had to think for herself.

She wouldn’t have learned that the world keeps turning if you make a mistake.

She wouldn't have learned that she is capable.  Sure, one water bottle leaked, but 5 didn’t - and what did, she cleaned up on her own.  With that, she has a few extra credits in her confidence account. 

Last week our older daughter’s raft took her far from the shore of North Forest Beach, where we were vacationing.  I’ve heard many accounts of people being stranded a mile or more out to sea because of this very thing.  They panic - they don’t know what to do.  I’m not sure I’d have known what to do.

There was no authority figure around to verify for her that she’d drifted too far from shore – it was a  conclusion she had to arrive at on her own.  Based on that assessment, she took a risk:  she got out of the raft.  No one directed her to, she made a decision and acted on it.  She tried to pull the raft in, but couldn’t - the water was well above her head, and swimming was too difficult with it in tow.  She didn’t waver - no time for that.  She left the raft behind and swam for shore.

Who told her she could do that? 

I'll tell you who.

Nobody.  

Big deal?  Maybe not to you.  But to a 10 year old (and her parents), it was a very big deal indeed.  

She has more than a few extra credits in her confidence account now, too.

And so do I.