Walking in the Thin Places

Celtic spirituality holds to a concept of thin places. Those geographic spots where the distance between people and God seems shortened - where the barrier between the physical and spiritual seems thinner. I am not sure how far down that road I can travel, but there are certainly times and places that seem to make you think a little harder and listen a little closer.

I flew down to the eastern seaboard for the residency period to start my second year of PhD studies at Eastern University. This time I flew into Baltimore and caught a ride with a classmate from the Washington DC area.

On the way up to Philadelphia we visited Gettysburg. I don't claim to know much about the battle that took place there - I'm Canadian ask me about Batoche - but we had used one of the battles as a case study on leadership during crisis. As we stood at Little Round Top and looked around at the actual places and landmarks mentioned in the account you could almost step into the horror of that day (destruction for both sides). It was definitely a thin place as we stood in a place that marked the depths of humanity's ability to harm itself.

On the first day of residency we traveled up early and stopped at Pindle Hill Retreat Centre - which is not far from our campus. This is a place run by the Friends (aka the Quakers) for people wanting to take time to gather for a retreat or to spend a year or more sojourning. It is a wonderfully quiet place in spite of the traffic that now runs past it. Sitting in the meeting hall almost begs you to stop and think deeply for a moment - to pray, to push away the busy-ness that crowd out God's presence, to search for that inner light. This was the place that Parker Palmer served in and wrote many of books at. It was a thin place as it marked the reflectiveness that God calls us to enter into.

The residency took us out to Camden, New Jersey. It has the distinction of ranking high in every social statistic that you would rather score low in - teen pregnancy, violent crime, poverty, incarceration rates, and the list goes on. We were served by a number of the young people from that community that are trying to reverse those trends and redeem the culture of poverty that has taken over the lives of too many residents and generations of Camden. The people from Urban Promise were making a difference. It was good to celebrate this with them. It was also a thin place as we celebrated the capacity for people to serve and be served.

Unfortunately that is where the thin places ended - the next days were marked by working lunches at restaurants where the food went in as fast as the ideas came out (at least in my case). For the next three months I will connect with my classmates over technology as they return to various points in the US and Africa. January will mark the next residency and the approxiamte halfway point of the PhD pursuit. Each semester has come about only by the grace of God and the generosity of friends and so I will keep my head down and keep going. When I need it most I will experience a timely thin place moment or an act of generosity that keeps me going.

Migwec,
Ehkosit!

MMR (Mixed Method Research) meets MMA (Mixed Martial Arts)

The school I attend, Eastern University, is a strong proponent of Transformational Leadership. I would agree with its tenets of leadership. James Macgregor Burns is one of the big names (if not the big name) in this particular model. When I heard his name I assumed that Matt Groening must have named the owner of Springfield's nuclear plant after him. However it turns out there is no connection whatsoever between MacGregor Burns and Montgomery Burns (the cartoon is named after a store owner and a street in Portland).

I had fight posters on my brain and came up with this...

Circle SWOTs

This last week I was doing an organizational analysis for one of my PhD courses. I always feel like I haven't really comprehended a concept until I can make fun of it. Two types of internal analyses for strategic planning are Three-Circle and SWOT. The following are my take on them being applied in a real world sense:

Migwec,
Ehkosit!

Philadelphia Sketchbook

Here's the place near my hotel that I grab a Philly Steak from when I am in the city. I don't know that its a well known place, but it fits the bill and there is a steady flow of locals coming in all the time. It is decorated with faded boxing pictures and gloves and has a certain - Paulie Balboa would eat here quality about it.

I wandered around downtown on Sunday after church with my sketchbook and doodled some of the buildings and especially some of the art deco elements. Even some of the more run down buildings still had a faded hint of their previous grandeur - those are actually the buildings that captured my interest the most. I will be sure to upload those eventually, but here is a quick sketch of the Philadelphia Inquirer building.

Migwec,

Ehkosit!

Snap Crackle Pop - the sounds of rec hockey

Throughout February and March I have struggled with another case of gout in my toe. It has happened frequently enough that it may not be gout at all but an effect of my arthritis. It has been feeling better so I started playing hockey again - it hurt to put my foot in the skate but it was too bad once I got going.

Last Wednesday was our first playoff game and I wasn't going to miss that! We won it, but about half way through the second period I turned to go from skating backwards to forwards and as I did that me toe popped.

Anybody that knows gout knows that this is a final step as the uric acid leaves the joint. Unfortunately as this happened I fell -my foot was busy planning a farewell trip for the uric crystals and was no longer interested in supporting my weight. When I fell I landed on my hip and ribs with the final coup de gras (which I think is French for cup of fat) of crashing into the endboards.

I stayed down for a few seconds and then made my way triumphantly to the bench - the beautiful thing of being 6'3" and (somewhere north of) 230lbs is that I became a very large pylon in the process and broke up the play.

Part of growing older is that I no longer say things like "That'll hurt in the morning" because those kinds of bumps start to hurt immediately. I was winded; my hip hurt; my back was sore; and my ribs were throbbing. I went into the dressing room threw a little water in my face, rubbed some dirt on it and went back out to the bench. I finished the game and spent the next few days walking with all of the grace that Warren Sapp dances with (my wife makes me watch Dancing with the Stars). I started wearing my high performance / way too tight athletic compression shirts as undergarments and was feeling better.

On Monday we had our first game of the league finals and if there was ever a time that pro scouts would be at the rink to watch 6:30am rec hockey this was the time. I froze up my rib cage with the handy dandy medicated spray and took off to the rink. It was a good thing I showed up because we were short on guys. During warm up I was really pleased with my back and was astounded at how great it felt to skate without my toe swelling up.

During my second or third shift I felt everything kind of pop as I skated. Somewhere along the way I cracked a rib (ribs). I did finish the game but I was in considerable pain. My doctor was pretty sure I fractured a rib and then phoned after looking at the x-rays to say it was a crack or possibly a deep bruising.

Last night I was feeling better and when I started crawling into bed I felt my rib cage agree to disagree on whether it was going to stay up in the air or join the rest of my body in the reclining position. But before it came to this conclusion it made a horrific snap, crackle and pop (I will never eat Rice Crispies the same again). My wife asked me which kids' toy I stepped on? She described the sound as being like the cracking of a plastic/wood toy followed by the sound of bubble wrap being stepped on, followed by a manly but very audible shriek (okay I added the manly part).

Today I am just trying to let it all settle back into place. I start teaching the Applied Linguistics courses on Monday and I want to be on my best. Currently every time I sneeze, cough or laugh I am like a sufferer of Tourret's Syndrome with an Anger Management problem!

Migwec,

Ehkosit!

The Savage Sword

In High School my brother picked up the nickname "Sword" (with the w pronounced) because of a hockey team he played on. My brother was a freak of nature on many levels (as most brothers assume of their siblings) in that he was a pipsqueek through most of the growing years and then grew several inches and put on many pounds when he was 18. If you met him now he is a strapping, tall, rugby-playing-fitness-conscious adult - but in high school he was a collection of sinew and veins.

A friend told he ran across some old Conan comic books recently - including some "Savage Sword of Conan" with my name on them. It sparked some memories of comic collecting and then the name "Savage Sword AND Conan" popped into my head.

Migwec,

Ehkosit!

Coat Rack in the back

One of the dangers of being back-stabbed by a close friend or co-worker is that you stop trusting people - in fact you can grow to dislike (even despise) people. This will often result result in isolation as you hide out from the world around you. This is unhealthy to say the least. I remember the first time I got back into the social scene after being shivved I felt the evening was a great success until I got home and realized I left my jacket at the party. I had a choice to make - I could isolate even deeper or I could find a way to use the knife in my back to be a help rather than a hindrance. Now I enter the soiree take off my jacket to reveal the tremendously metrosexual ensemble I have arrayed myself in and hang my jacket on the handle of the knife. Voila! No more digging through piles of jackets to find mine has been covered by someone trying to smuggle a pocketful limburger cheese out of the party.

Grocery Bagged

Let's face it your life is filled with enough frustration already there is no reason to allow grocery shopping to cap off an already gut-wrenching, soul-eating day. And yet it is increasingly becoming one more spirit robbing activity in your schedule. The local supermarket is constantly renaming or relocating the sections of the store you actually use. They have started charging you to use their carts and bags and it is only a matter of time that they follow the example of the airport and start hitting you with a beautification tax every time you walk out the door. The knife in the back that was lodged their by yet another Dutch Uncle talk with the boss that claims to have your back (of course he has your back how else is he going to lodge a shank hilt deep between your shoulder blades?!?) can be a source of more anxiety or it can be a source of relief - its your choice. With the extra arm of cold pressed stainless steel you can walk past the racks of three-wheeled, left lurching shopping carts and just load the bags up after you fill your hands up. That's right you save some money AND you don't have the bags so overloaded that the plastic stretches so thin it becomes garrote wire that threatens to amputate your fingers at the first knuckle before you can get to the car! See it all in reframing the situation and seeing the positives as well as the negatives!

Migwec,

Ehkosit!!!

Vespa

One of the draw backs to being knifed in the back is it is uncomfortable to drive a car because the handle digs into the seat. That is why I would suggest investing in a motorcycle or even Vespa. If you are anything like me you have all of the electronic gadgets (IPhone...check, PDA...check, Daytimer...Check) but you still rely on scraps of paper to jot down errands and quick lists. The benefit of a knife in the back is that you can get a package of small magnets and use the exposed blade as a mobile magnet board. It can be very tiring and inconvenient to lug your fridge around with you but a shank is just perfect for keeping your 'Honey-Do' list, 'food to pick up on the way home' list, church prayer chain and pictures of your Compassion child(ren) close at hand.

Migwec,

Ehkosit!!

Sombrero

Sometimes you just need to get away from a turmoil-filled workplace. Unfortunately, even though we are a thousand miles away from the source of the stress we carry the knife in our back with us. It can be the thing that ruins our vacation - constantly reminding us about what we left behind and what is waiting for us when we return. Or, if we learn to not only live with it but embrace it, the knife in the back can be the key to our best sunbathing ever! By purchasing a cheap souvenir/oversized sombrero you have the quickest and easiest parasol on the beach. Not to mention that the metal blade lets you know when you've had enough sun (if its hot to the touch you need to put the sombrero back up).

Migwec,

Ehkosit.

Knife as Swing

Just because you have spent the last 24 hours trying to pick up the emotional pieces after being blind-sided at a meeting doesn't excuse you from pulling your weight in raising the kids. With the infants swing from the backyard swingset (or local playground) and a simple Tugboat Hitch at the ends of the rope and you are set. If you are planning to sit and enjoy a warm beverage while checking your emails or possibly updating your resume, make sure you choose a stool or a low backed chair for the safety and comfort of yourself and Junior.

Migwec,

Ehkosit.

Leadership is learning to live with a knife in the back

Unless you are an ascetic monk living out a solo existence in some secluded location (or you bought Ted Kazinski's cabin on EBay) you have to interact with people. This means you have probably seen the darker side of humanity. If you are a leader in any capacity, at any level you will have been stabbed in the back. I used to have a boss that constantly assured me he would "go to Hell and back for me." I never doubted he would, but I always wanted to ask him if I whether I was getting a round trip ticket or was he just going to dispose of my body.

The first few times I was a victim of this I wanted to take steps to guarantee it wouldn't happen again. The longer I have been in leadership positions the more I realize that it is not something to be avoided. It is something to be expected and even more so to be embraced. It becomes an aikido approach to anger-management. Here are some of the ideas I had about living with a knife in your back, but first here is an old picture I did a while back (I'm sure I posted it before, but I can't remember when):

I'm a Reader not a Leader

This has become my reality. I sometimes feel like I am spending so much time researching leadership that I have no time to actually do it. In some ways it has sped up the leadership development - I don't have the same amount of time anymore and so a number of tasks have to be handed off. I am fortunate to have a great team around me and the move to bring Juli on staff is the only way that this is possible.

I guess we will continue to negotiate our way through the challenges of balancing ministry, family and academics.

Migwec,

Ehkosit.

Sunday in Philly

I spent the middle of January in Philadelphia. I go down three times a year as part of my PhD program. Its hard to explain how rejuvenating this is for me. I guess there is a part of me that never left the ivory tower of academia when I stopped teaching at the university.

I always tell people to find a local church when they go on holidays – not because its a legalistic thing, but because there is a tremendous blessing in connecting with other Christians from other places. With this in mind I asked my classmates from the Philadelphia and New Jersey area if they knew of a church near my hotel at the airport. Better than that one arranged for me to join her at her church. This is my take on that Sunday from my journal:

What a day its been. Got up this morning just after 4am (according to my time – but 6am locally) because a friend of a classmate is going to pick me up. I always tell people not to take a vacation from church when they go away – it is a chance to have a unique experience and a way to see the wideness of the family of God. The fellow who picked me up was Rev. Bob – a former pastor who is still very involved in the ministry at the church. As we drive to the church he tells me that we will be a distinct minority amongst the worshipers this morning – being that we are white and it is a decidedly black church within a largely black neighbourhood. Anita, my classmate had already told me this and made sure I was comfortable with that. More than comfortable I was excited to experience something different.

We arrive and Rev Bob introduces me to one of the associate pastors and then we make our way to the back of the church to be part of the pre-service prayer with Pastor Lusk. To say Rev Dr Herbert Lusk II is a captivating personality is an understatement. He is a former professional football player (with the Philadelphia Eagles where he was known as the Praying Tailback) and he runs the pre-service prayer with the focus and energy of a pre-game huddle! Prepared and charged up to enter the service we all make our way to the door when Rev Bob mentions that I’m a Baptist Pastor from Canada. With that Pastor Lusk says “Baptist from Canada?! We’re everywhere…he’ll join us on the platform!” and off we go to the deacons room.

As we wait I get a little of the history of the church – it was a Presbyterian church that was built over 100 years ago. In the 60s the Catholic diocese bought it, largely so that African American parishioners would have a place to worship without showing up at white churches (a statement on the times more than on any denomination). 30 years ago the Baptists bought it and tried to make a difference in a quickly declining neighbourhood.

The neighbourhood needed a gospel presence. In the 70s & 80s (during the Carter administration) it was the home of the WORST housing project in the US – worse than anything in LA, NYC or Chicago. The only thing that allowed it to give up the title was that they finally gave up and tore it down. When the current pastor accepted the position the church had major renovations needed (the first Sunday he preached it was raining as hard inside as it was outside) and they owed 32,000 to the power company. Considering they only had $300 in the bank it was going to be a bit of a challenge!

Currently they own every building on the block (including a bank that told them they wouldn’t lend them 50 cents) except one as well as a park across the street and a gym that is being turned into a youth centre. They run a pregnancy crisis centre (it does no good to be prolife if you aren’t helping before and after the baby comes) a charter school and employment skills.

I’m jazzed up and I haven’t even seen the sanctuary yet! We walk out and through a set of doors and up onto the platform. As soon as the other pastors arrive in their positions they drop to their knees and start praying (nobody mentioned this to me). The choir takes it feet and they start swaying, clapping and singing. The congregation gets prodded to “show some joy!” And out come the tambourines and the clapping patterns and the play-by-play (”sing that note son”, “that’s right, that’s right, sing praises”, etc.).

There are clap offerings, dance offerings, praise offerings, and benevolent offerings – later in the service there is the general offering and Pastor Herb literally starts calling out people that even look like they are going to leave before they can give their offerings “I gave you that sermon, and your going to leave? I saw you nodding your head, I heard you saying amen, you’re are surely not leaving before you give an awesome god his tithes and offerings?!?”

Anyways back to the message – Pastor Lusk starts with “Much love to the people” to which the congregation replies “Much love to the Pastor.” And then he begins to speak. His sermon is on John 2 where Jesus drives out the money changers. He starts out fairly low key – introducing the topic, setting the context, bringing in some history. But slowly he ramps up as he gets into his first point “Worship without wonder.” At one point all the other people on the platform jump up and start patting Bob on the back as he makes a point. From the choir one of the members starts saying “oh yeah he’s preaching now…preach that preaching preacher” Others from the congregation start calling out “Go preacher” and other phrases. At one point Pastor Herb tells us that worship should be dangerous; it should never be safe. And then to underscore his point he reaches over and grabs Rev Bob by the suit coat and says that worship should grab us – like the people used to grab on the cloaks of Jesus and the apostles. Two thoughts go through my head: (1) Bob’s my ride home so I hope he doesn’t get injured and (2) I may be next and I am not warmed up for a contact sport especially since Pastor Bob looks like he could still play pro football!! His other points are that we denigrate the temple when we bring “sacrifice that has no significance” and when we “participate in the privilege without prayer”

Pastor Bob’s points were excellent and, although I missed my coffee that morning, I walked out wired and ready to serve. At the end of the service I was called on to say a few words and so I extended grace and peace and I brought greetings from brothers and sisters at SGBC. I know where I will be attending in May! It was a visceral, energizing, full body experience of worship. To think I would have missed all that if I slept in or went shopping!

You can check out my Philadelphia church (they’ve already invited me and my whole family back whenever I’m in Philly) at www.gebch.com.

simple. reflective.

I just finished reading Tuesdays with Morrie. Its a book that has been on my 'to-read' list for quite awhile, but life is busy and with the reading assignments from my PhD courses coupled with the reading I do for sermon preparation there never seemed to be any space to for enjoyment.

As it works out one of the books we need to read for my winter semester is Tuesdays with Morrie. I read it over the course of a few days during the Christmas break. It was both a quick read and a slow read. Quick because there really wasn't a lot of ink on the pages - it was just vignettes of visits between the author and his dying professor. Slow because the book forces you to stop and reflect on your own life and how it intersects with the writing. And in a way that is the whole thrust of the book - simplicity and reflection. Don't get caught up in the trappings of celebrations and struggles, of life and death. Keep it simple and take time to reflect.

It was really moving because the book reminds of the time spent with two important people in my own life as they transitioned from life to death. In many ways these two individuals were among the most influential people in my life. One was my grandmother who lived into her 90s and moved into my parents house and the other was my Father-in-Law who died of cancer at the age of 55. With both of these people I was able to encounter the blessed-yet-painful journey towards death that Mitch Albom makes with Morrie Schwartz.

My love of books and learning are a direct reflection on my grandmother's investment in my life. She read to us when we were young - but she insisted that our choices were quality literature not some fluff that passes for children's stories. We plowed through some of the classics as kids. When we got older we would spend time reading - not always out loud but often we would just read in the same room together. Some of my favourite memories were of going to stay with her in the summer or when I needed a break from the life I was caught up in. I never felt judgement and there was always an empty seat a few good books to dig into. Whenever I read of about Mitch knowing he was loved by the way Morrie lit up when he entered the room I though of Nem (my grandmother). Long after her eyesight was gone she would still recognize me coming to visit. I would ask how she knew it was me and she would say that she could make out a blurry form entering her room and she knew it was either me (I am 6'3" and have been 225lbs + since grade 9) or they were moving the refrigerator into her room. She had a way of letting you know she loved you without being sappy. Her sense of humour was always present - she loved to laugh and make people laugh. Sometimes her jokes put you in your place and sometimes they lifted you out of the place you were stuck in, but they always made you laugh.

I owe my love of the church and leading congregation to my father-in-law, Dr Jim Wells. When I was first exploring Christianity and still wondering what I was getting myself into he always had time to talk and if I ever entered a conversation without questions he would challenge my thinking with questions of his own. He taught me that people didn't have to check their brains at the door if they wanted to enter the church. As I read the book I was reminded of the physical toll death takes on people - the cancer ate away his body as it progressed from organ to organ. I remember trying to help him with whatever I could. As he came closer to death the list grew longer and more personal but I was honoured that he invited me to share in his struggle. Yetmost important lesson was the way people can maintain their calling to the end if they really know why they have been put in this world at this time. If Morrie's tombstone could read "A teacher to the last" then Jim's tombstone could read "A preacher to the last." My father-in-law literally preached right up to the end. He was given 6 months to live by the doctor and people often asked him why he didn't just step away from his preaching and church duties and do the things he always wanted to do before he died. His answer was always the the same - he was doing exactly what he wanted to do. His bucket list was simple - preach the gospel, invest in the people God entrusted to him and grow the Kingdom of God.

It was a great book. Go out and read it. Reflect on it.

Migwec,

Ehkosit!