Missional Living

I hadn’t heard it in a while, but yesterday I caught Dave Matthews’ "Grace Is Gone" again for the 2000th time. As I sang along, I caught myself fighting back tears. Why?

Because I’m a wuss. Because it’s one of my all-time favorite tunes. Because, even though it’s debated whether the song is about the death of his father or the loss of a girlfriend, I still deeply relate to death and loss. Because I resonate with the song’s lyrics  such as this: 

"I could never love again so much as I love you
Where you end where I begin is like a river going through
Take my heart, my eyes cuz I need them no more
If never again they fall upon the one I so adore"

It’s a beautiful lament of loss and love. I can picture him at the end of the bar with a broken heart and a crushed spirit, pleading with the bartender, "Excuse me, please, one more drink…could you make it strong cuz I don’t need to think…"

It’s raw and honest and painful and nearly hopeless… which is why I love it. And it’s why I struggle with a lot of the sanitized worship we (I) sing most of the time.

In my experiences with God’s refining process (and life in general), there are plenty of times when a good lament is in order. The death of friends. The struggle of Kingdom living. The weight of sin on my every step. Yes, God is good. Yes, better days are ahead. Yes, we shall overcome. But many times the ‘now’ is hard and, although our Hope has come, we still live in the ‘now’.

So where are our songs of lament? Where are our worship tunes that dig deep into the emotion of struggle and pain and hurt that lead us to our Emmanuel Who brings us Hope? Where are our blues? Sometimes, in my personal worship, my heart is not ready for How Great Is Our God (although He is…), and I fear that by always beating that particular drum, we are missing out on another equally great proclamation: that God is great even in suffering. That He understands our feelings of near hopelessness and helplessness. Our crushed expectations and dreams. That, somehow, when we pour out our raw, unfiltered pain at His feet… he heals us in the midst of it all. He doesn’t take us out of it…but walks with us through it. 

And therein lies the beauty.

Is it acceptable to have worship songs of lament? If so, where are they? Why do they not exist? Are we so ‘in the bubble’ that we’ve become anesthetized to real life hurts and struggles and simply continue holding hands and singing our Pie-in-the-Sky songs, hoping that if we sing them enough…we’ll eventually believe them?

Don’t know the song? Watch the video.

For all of you locals:

This Sunday, May 11, we’ll have a couple of special guests at our 10:30 a.m. student ministry time: Glyn Milburn and Robert Jones.

Milburn is a two-time All American running back, wide receiver and kick returner. He graduated from the University of Stanford and spent 10 years in the NFL, playing with the Denver Broncos, Detroit Lions, Chicago Bears, and San Diego Chargers.

Jones spent 11 years in the NFL, playing for the Dallas Cowboys, St. Louis Rams, Miami Dolphins, and Washington Redskins. He was NFC Rookie of the Year in 1992 and won three Super Bowls with the Cowboys. 
 

They’ll be sharing their individual journeys of faith with our students and parents. It’ll be an exciting time.

Seating will be…um…packed. So be there on time!

Feral. Adj. Describing an animal that has left a domesticated state and returned to the wild. Alley cats and pigeons are examples feral animals.

A few years ago, we lived in a small central Texas town and had lots of problems with feral pigs. We lived close to the high school’s Ag barn where various animals were housed and raised before they were shown (for competition) and slaughtered. Many times, young domesticated pigs would escape and wander off in the spring…and return by fall (or the following spring), having become adapted to the wild. The problem is that they could not become redomesticated. They would live along the margin of civilization, stealing food from cattle and other farm animals, destroying fences and gardens, and even would become aggressive towards humans and livestock during the tough months of winter.

One salty, good ‘ol boy named Paul once told me, “Don’t try to keep them penned up, they’ll knock everything down trying to get out. You just have to shoot ‘em and move on.”

We have generations of hope-seeking students and adults who have left civilized church and religious life and wandered off in to the wild. Sometimes they may wander back along the margins of conventional religion, but they can never be redomesticated. They push over fences in search of hope, discovery, authentic intimacy, and significant God-experiences. They won’t fit back into the neat little boxes of ministry. (I’m not sure they ever did in the first place.)

IMO, more and more of us are wandering off and moving to the wilderness. We/they may wander close enough to feed off the traditional structures…but attempts to redomesticate them are pretty useless.

In search of the God-life, I turned feral a few years back. Funny, how I’m still on staff at a conventional, highly-organized (and marvelous!) local church. Although, as Dave Mustaine so aptly comiserated, ‘the system has failed’, God continues to change and shape me in and out of my ‘ferility’. I seem to be better suited for living in the wild than among the civilzed (though not as much as some), yet sometimes I feel like my job is to lead others to feral living. Not away from ‘church’, but away from a civilized religion…and towards a dangerous, radical, table-turning, whip-making, unpredictable, revolutionary and Feral Jesus.

A Feral Jesus that hasn’t turned his back on His Bride (the church), but calls her to a deeper experience of intimacy with Him. Pushing over civilized, religious fences. No longer living for the show (and the slaughter) to come.

Missional Living gone Feral.

I’ve been kicking this post around in my head for a while. The hard thing is that blogs have inherently short posts, and this is not something I can express in 200 words or less. Nevertheless…

As I posted not too long ago, a very dear ministry friend of mine emerged from rehab a while back and recommended Nate Larkin’s Samson and the Pirate Monks to me. As a book that recounts Larkin’s own struggles with addictions, from sexual issues to pride and ego issues, it’s absolutely great. He paints the portrait that we are sinner-saints: beautiful monsters that are at once theiving and pillaging Pirates as well as God-chasing Monks. It’s about him finding God in the midst of struggle, addiction, and destruction of his personal world. To be honest, I was expecting someing along the lines of Elderedge’s Wild at Heart. But what I found was incredibly more honest. Vulnerable. Refreshing. Dare I say… ‘balanced’?

Just like Fight Club, I have to add, the I-Ching-search-for-God flick of our generation. I can imagine meeting Larkin on the street at night, downing a couple dozen glazed Crispy Cremes (ala ‘Bob’). When I ask him why he hasn’t been at our local men’s retreat lately, he replies, "Oh…I’ve found something so much better. But the first rule is…I’m not supposed to talk about it. And the second rule is…I’m not supposed to talk about it. And the third rule is…"

So, to Nate: I’m a member. I’ve joined the Samson Society. No, it’ s not a secret underground boxing club. It’s an online group of men who are looking for authentic brotherhood, encouragement, friendship and accountability.

Some are alcoholics.

Some are porn addicts.

Some are cancer survivors.

Some divorced.

Some sexually abused or verbally abusive.

Some are struggling musicians and artists.

Some are just tired of the macho, chest-thumping that poses for manhood and want a group of friends they can count on to share their hopes and fears and dreams. A group they can count on to walk their rocky and uncertain journey with.

Check out the book, Samson and the Pirate Monks, as well as the Samson Society online.

I’m still recuperating and playing catch up from our iGro weekend….good times.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HK-dFRQ56So[/youtube]

Remember, ministry (and life) will kill you. It’s supposed to. It’s designed to reveal God’s strength through your weakness. His success in the midst of your failure. His greatness among your feebleness. And mine.

The story goes that Mother Teresa was approached by a young man who wanted to know God’s will for his life. As he pleaded with her to pray for him, she asked why he needed her prayers.

“So I can do something great for God.”, the man replied.

“I will not pray that you will do something great for God”, she answered, “but I will pray for you.”

She did pray. And years later, artist Kendall Payne put her prayer to a beautiful, haunting song called ‘Pray’, which cries out:

May your heart break enough that compassion enters in.
May your strength all be spent upon the weak.
All the castles and crowns you build and place upon your head,
May they all fall, crashing down around your feet.

May you find every step to be harder than the last,
So your character grows greater every stride.
May your company be of human insignificance.
May your weakness be your only source of pride.

The most beautiful thing I love about Wayne is his weakness. His insignificant balance. He is at once full of passion and life and fire…and yet weak and feeble and wounded.

Being a disciple of Christ requires the balance of both. Not the tension of both, but the balance. We must pursue our calling with everything in us. We must pour out unfailing love on our spouses and children. We must cultivate our character and integrity with diligence. And we must constantly be a genuine friend of sinners and those who would despise us.

It’s a pretty exhausting job description.

Rest assured it will drag all of your insecurities and weaknesses into the light of day.

It will expose the Imposter within you.

It will ensure that your failures and feeble attempts at success will be broadcast unsparingly.

It it will demand that your weakness reveal God’s strength (2 Cor 12:9). After all, that’s the plan, remember? In his second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul reminds them that he would not boast in himself. In fact, God Himself told Paul, “My grace is enough for you. My power is made perfect (complete) in your weakness.” Paul goes on to add that he will gladly boast…but about his weakness, so that the power of Christ will show up in him. So, for Christ’s sake, he is content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecution, and disaster. “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Wayne’s weakness, as well as my own, reminds me of the immortal words of Tyler Durden: “Congratulations. You’re one step closer to hitting bottom…[and] it’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”
 

I recently met up with a long-time ministry friend who just got out of rehab. Let’s call him Wayne.

I first met Wayne while I was serving at my first church. He was one of ‘those guys’: the ones with an amazing journey of finding Jesus. His life-story included being raised by a cocaine-using father, being left by the untimely death of his mother, and the religious and social tension of a sister involved in lesbianism. Wayne’s conversion story was a Damascus Road of walking away from heavy drug and alcohol usage and traveling the US as the youth ministry sidekick of a famous evangelist. Since 1993, he’s been a close friend, brother, and unfiltered confidant. The Focker’s ‘circle of trust’ wouldn’t be complete without Wayne in my life. We spent summers together leading camps, training for his Ironman competitions, and learning how to minister to students while dodging paintball fire.

For years, he struggled with alcoholic relapses. Binge weekends turned into binge weeks. He started a new campus ministry that began to reach thousands of middle and high school students. Being on the road to insure it’s success and growth meant leaving the wife and kids alone in the daily grind of living. While the ministry accolades grew, the weariness of it grew as well. Without support, encouragement, and accountability, temptation and relapse were soon a part of his daily life. Nearly two years later, his wife and some friends convinced him to commit to an 8-week treatment program.

When he got out, I called to check on him. We joked around. Laughed together. Cried a little bit. When the conversation turned serious, I told him I loved him and that I was glad he was in recovery. I didn’t expect the response I got.

“In those 8 weeks, I didn’t find God. I looked…hard. I prayed and fasted. I cried. I read Scripture. I did everything I’ve told others to do, but I didn’t find Him there.”

There was a very awkward silence (as you can imagine). I struggled for a response.

But he continued. “Dude, for 8 weeks I worked in the cornfields and kitchens with alcoholics and crackheads. They became my friends and my support. Only a few of them were ‘christians’, but they are my brothers. Tom, I looked hard for God those two months and didn’t find Him. But He found me…” His voice trailed. “And for the first time ever, I feel like a friend of sinners. And I feel balanced.”

I didn’t quite know what to say.

We get so caught up in life. On the treadmill. So consumed by our calling to ministry, to teach, to fix, to do whatever we were born to do, that we become unbalanced and unstable. And in our instability and weariness, we get sucked into a devastating and destructive spiral. We mask pain, loneliness, and feelings of inadequacy with anything. Everything. Something that will get us through.

Remember, ministry (and life) will kill you. It’s supposed to. It’s designed to reveal God’s strength through your weakness. His success in the midst of your failure. His greatness among your feebleness. And mine.

Below is our latest installment (getting close to the end…) of our ministry’s Overhaulin project. We started with a donated ‘95 Chevy Astro Van and have gone through numerous projects including brakes, transmission, fuel injectors, interior…and now paint and body work. All of which have been graciously donated by area businesses and business people in our church. Watch and enjoy. (Music: Lobby Scene, by The Propellerheads–from The Matrix)

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZJZqnVvn_Q[/youtube]

The first-ever tomcottar(dot)org online contest was a great success! Great creativity! After much consideration in a difficult situation I realized a few things.

1. I should have been more congnizant of Buffy (Spike Is My Personal Example) and Fight Club (Soap Inspires Mindless Pummeling of Enemies). Dang.

2. Personal emails sent to me asking "Is this right?….." followed by a ton of guesses, don’t count as official contest entries.

3. It’s gonna cost me a hefty sum to send this stuff to our winner.

4. Living is easier after rendering fat.

So…are you ready? Waiting with baited breath? Can you feel the anticipation? The winner is……..a great guy. He got closer than anyone and missed it by a hair. For that reason, I need to tell you that S.I.M.P.E. stands for Spiritual, Intellectual, Mental, Physical and Emotional. Congratulations, Jimmie! Your box of goodies will be packed up and mailed to you on Monday! 

UPDATE: Here is an updated pic of my process, though not yet complete, with sticky notes and reminders of goals and priorities for a fat-free life. Some of the stickys are scribbled with things such as the following:

• date night
• 1-on-1 time with the boys
• finish your book
• books to read
• leaders to mentor/develop (By Design and Student Ministry)
• get the ‘I’ out of worship (this one applies to SIMPE, BY DESIGN, and STUDENT MINISTRY…)
• Houston or Austin Marathon
• be faithful to accountability partners
• schedule a Sabbath
• UPALO (Unplug and Log Off)

In case you missed it yesterday, here’ s the teaser for our new worship building. The full-length presentation will be this Sunday!