Evening Prayer: The Faces of Christ, part 1

Tonight I begin a 5-part series of prayerful reflections on key turning points in the life of Jesus. Each part of the story speaks to our lives today as we wonder together.





Click here to view other installments of my reflective evening prayer sessions.

the other side of christmas

The Advent/Christmas season is a time of contrasts. Many churches use colors to express this. In the four weeks leading up to Christmas day, many ecclesiastical spaces will be decked with the color purple, and in the twelve days between Christmas day and Epiphany (January 6) the color changes to white.

The same juxtaposition occurs in the season of Lent/Easter. Lent is signified by the color purple and Easter with the color white.

In my ministry with children we tell a story during the four weeks of Advent that begins with these words: “It is now the time of the color purple.”[i]

                                                                                                                                       

The story goes on to explain that purple is the color of kings. In this season, we remember that a king came—and is coming again.

It’s a mystery. Most kings come and go—and that’s it. Most kings do not come-and-go-and-come-again.

But Jesus is not like most kings.

So, in this season, when we especially remember the birth of Jesus, we act as if he still has not yet come. It’s a strange sort of drama, to be sure. It’s strange because, if we really practice this mystery, it disorients us—in a good way.  It disorients us precisely at the time we feel we should be oriented. But the practice of such disorientation is good for us because through it we come to grips with the confusion of existence and the chaos in our own heart.

This confusion and disorientation is echoed at Lent, too. During Lent, when I describe the color purple to the children, I add the idea that “purple is a sad color, a serious color.”[ii] We say this because Lent is a time to remember the suffering of Jesus for our sin, it is a time to come to grips with our own internal chaos. In that respect, we understand why both Lent and Advent are “purple” and we wonder how we didn’t see the “purpleness” of Advent before.  

We typically don’t think of Advent as a sad, serious time because in our culture the weeks leading up to Christmas are happy, “feasting” weeks. But Advent was not always treated this way. Throughout Christian history, the four weeks leading up to Christmas were weeks for fasting that corresponded to the six weeks leading up to Easter. Then, Christmastide (the twelve days after Christmas day) and Eastertide (the six weeks after Easter Sunday) were treated as true feasts.

The contrast is apparent: fast for Advent and feast for Christmas; fast for Lent and feast for Easter. The two cling together because feasting means little if we do not know fasting. Yet our culture tries to make us believe that the best way to prepare for feasting is to simply scaffold our feasting. In America, we build up to Christmas day by going to parties and making extravagant purchases as if we believe it is in our best interest to work up a spiritual tolerance to engorgement. But to pile feasting upon feasting is foolishness. We need both feasting and fasting.

In my ministry with children we portray the two-sided nature of life with objects that are painted purple on one side and white on the other side. I invite the children to try to “pull apart the colors.” The kids and I always smile and shake our heads when each person gives it a go. But, try as they might, they cannot “pull apart the colors.”

I say to them something like: “See? When there is one side, there is always the other side, too. You can’t pull the two sides apart.” But I find it interesting that it is still in our nature to try. Advent, therefore, invites us to consider this paradox: “We do well to remember that all is not well.”

Despite our attempts to confine Advent to a Christmas-happy place, it nevertheless remains a suitable time, a spacious spiritual place, to wrestle with realities that challenge us here and now. Advent is the perfect time to face our own growing darkness, personally and collectively, yet hold out hope the light will indeed lengthen in time. In fact, the faith claim intrinsic to Advent is that such an acknowledgement of darkness plays a key role in ushering in the light. Scientifically, that makes no sense but that is why we need faith. In Advent’s lab, to spot the darkness is to see the light. Yes, it’s a mystery.

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[i] The Complete Guide to Godly Play, volume 3 by Jerome Berryman

[ii] The Complete Guide to Godly Play, volume 4 by Jerome Berryman

God's Tweet

*"The Faces of Easter" by Jerome Berryman (from Godly Play, volume 4). 
Artwork by Peter Privett, Godly Play UK

The great news of Advent is that when God wanted to speak with us he did not just send out a Tweet.

In fact, he didn’t use words at all, even shorthand. In one of the stories I tell children*, the first part contains this paradox: “The Word became a wordless child.”

Though we should have seen it coming, this is unlike anything humans had come to expect of God. By the time Jesus was born, the Israelite experience of God was mediated by the words of the prophets and the midrash of the rabbis. To know God was to meditate on God’s Word.

Though Advent does not negate the fact that God speaks, it unmistakably proclaims that the Word is so powerful he speaks without words. 

Advent thus invites us to practice silence before we presume to speak a single word. Advent is God’s way of taking the word communication and giving it an amputation to save its life. Advent reminds us that the best way to communicate is to commune, to dwell with and to abide. When God sent his Son, it was more messy than mere messaging.

The other day a friend said they have a feeling that, as they age, they have more to say, important things to say, important words to write.

That is likely true. And I believe it is true of all those who keep growing as they age. Anyone who matures in the process of aging will have more important things to say along the way.

But maturity also considers: “What is the most helpful way to say something? And how much needs to be said? And when? And to whom?” We all have words, many words. Maybe our words would carry more weight if we used fewer words, gentler words. And maybe one’s words should be first directed to oneself before presuming those words may be a gift to others. 

Advent gives us pause to consider: In what ways do our words, our many words, engender the wisdom of silence, the quietude of a trusting heart?

I am especially mindful of the great confusion we suffer because of the volume of words we are exposed to every day. It is telling that we need many words now to set straight what news sources may be trusted. It is even more ironic that most people are ready to offer their counterargument to such news stories about news stories. One wonders when there will be a news story about the arguments we have about news stories about news stories.

It is astounding that Twitter, a site predicated on the idea of brevity, overflows with so many sets of 140 characters that it is impossible for any single person to keep up with just .0000001 percent of its active-user content. Yes, that number represents real math.

Yet, this is the platform millions of people follow to hear from society’s media and political leaders, to hear what they have to say straight from the source, in real time. What’s even more sobering are the things these leaders choose to say when they Tweet, the amount of time they spend on words, words, words that will soon be so deep in the feed no one will care anymore what they said by the end of the day.

People often think of the Bible as a long book, but one can read it in its entirety with relative ease in the span of a year. When I consider that countless numbers of humans have been meditating on the same words for thousands of years now, it fills me with awe.

Consider the power of God’s words. We are familiar with them already, even if we haven’t read the Bible lately (or ever).

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”

“The Lord is my shepherd.”

“Love your enemies.”

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

“Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son, and she will call His name Immanuel.”

That verse about Immanuel occurs twice in the Bible: once in the prophet Isaiah and once in Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth. Matthew adds the note that the name Immanuel means “God with us.”

It is striking that when God came to be with us in the person of Jesus, we hear very few words from him before he is 30 years old and even then his teachings are so brief we can read them easily in one sitting. He taught many times in parables, a form of storytelling so brief I refer to several parables every year in my ministry with children. In fact, I have seen preschool children learn to tell the parables themselves; they are that simple.

What I find amazing about this is that God’s words are for everyone, both young and old. God’s words are simple enough that a child (even a very young child) can reflect on them; yet, God’s words are rich enough that one can meditate on the same words countless times over the course of seventy years and still discover new treasures in them. Consider all that has been written on this simple prayer of Jesus, uttered as he was dying on the cross: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”  And consider that humankind has yet to grasp the full meaning of those words; it’s unparalleled.

The children with whom I work also learn the first recorded words of Jesus, which he spoke when he was about 12 years old. Note the simplicity: “Why were you searching for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?”

I love how Immanuel’s words to Mary and Joseph came in the form of a question. That should teach us something about our own words. Later, we come to understand why he was in his “Father’s house” and why he replied to their query with another query. He said, “I do nothing on my own but speak just what the Father has taught me.” (John 8:28)

I experience these words as personally challenging, because it makes me wonder how often I speak without first considering if it is something God would say. To what extent do I allow Jesus to be my teacher and, if I claim he is my teacher, do I let him train my tongue?

I still have a lot to learn. I suspect we all do.

Yet, with all these reflections I still marvel, especially during this time of year, that when God wanted to speak to us, he did so not with words but by choosing to be present with us in a wordless way.

In many ways his communing with us was even smaller than a Tweet and yet the message of love has endured for generations and will continue to endure for all generations to come.

I pray we allow that truth to change the way we live in a world swirling with words.

communion and sacrament

I am applying for ordination in the Evangelical Covenant Church. As part of the process I am required to write a “Licensing Paper” by which I respond to various theological issues. I know this sounds really nerdy but I’m having lots of fun doing this paper. I love playing with ideas.

One of the question-prompts reads as follows:

B. Sacramental Nature of Communion:  Communion is viewed as a sacrament in the ECC.  What does this mean to you?

I thought I’d share my response, in case it fires your imagination. Read below:

……………………………

To answer this question, I need to tell a story I use in my ministry. The story was originally written by Sofia Cavalletti but I have adapted it slightly. The story presents a synthesis of three key Scriptures: John 10:11-18, Luke15:4-7, and Psalm 23. 

It goes like this: The Good Shepherd leads a flock of sheep from the sheepfold to a large table. “This is the Table of the Good Shepherd,” I say. “The Table is big enough for everyone. This is where the sheep share a special meal together. This is the meal of the Good Shepherd.”  I place a chalice and a small plate with bread on the table.

“The meal does not look like much but it is enough to feed them all, all they need and all they want.”

As I say the words, I begin replacing the sheep in the story with the people of the world.

“The people of the world come to this table—the old and young, big and small, people of all colors. They come from east and west, north and south. They come to be with the Good Shepherd here.”

As I say this, I remove the figure of the Good Shepherd from the story and draw attention to the plate and cup.

“In fact, the Good Shepherd is in the meal itself. Sometimes, when people come to this table they feel they need to put something on the table besides the meal: a picture of the Good Shepherd or the words of the Good Shepherd or a cross. But really we don’t need to put anything here besides the meal because the Good Shepherd himself is in the meal.”

I pause because invariably the face of someone in the group who is listening to the story with imagination will light up somehow. It’s good to be silent and wonder about this.

“The people of the world love to be with the Good Shepherd here. There is only goodness here, no evil. The Table might be placed in a lush, green place, by the refreshing water, in the sheepfold, or even…in a dark place. Yes, He prepares a table for us in the presence of our enemies sometimes. Either way, He is here with us and that is enough.”

I see the notion of “sacrament” embodied beautifully in this story.

The presence of Christ is Real but we do not need to understand fully the theory of it. We know beyond reason.

A sacrament is “a means by which we receive the grace of God.”

In the story, it remains implicit that anyone gathered at the table is reconciled. You cannot really be at the table and harbor enmity towards the Good Shepherd or another person. This table brings us together. Sacrament is an embodiment of the Gospel, the good news of the ministry of reconciliation. As we make peace with one another, we are truly The Body of Christ.

Therefore, the Bread and Wine are Christ to us—but so is the People of God. As we become Jesus to one another through sharing the meal, Jesus is Real and Present. This is sacrament—Jesus…real and present.

Communion, as a meal signifying the death and resurrection of Christ, enables us to be nourished by Christ’s forgiveness and new life.

When we share communion together we do so “in remembrance” of Jesus. The word “remember” literally means “re-member”: that is, “become members again of Jesus and his family.” So, communion (as a sacrament) is the means by which we participate in the life of Jesus.

Finally, sacrament means “sign.” I take the word “sign” in the classical sense. A “sign” is a reality that points to another reality by participating in that reality. Communion is a sign by which we experience the real presence of Christ.

disciple-making by worshipful play

Disciple-making by Worshipful Play

by Troy Cady

In the Scriptures we find the Story of a People formed by experiencing God. Because of the ministry of the Holy Spirit, the experience of God continues…and the Story goes on. Thus, the action of God in history (both past and present) gives shape to a community that provides a grounding for the individual.

Throughout history the acts of God were relived as the stories of God and God’s People were retold—and the stories were told in a way children could understand so that the faith was handed down from generation to generation. That is a key component of classical faith formation: to declare the person and work of God to the next generation (that is, to children). When disciple-making occurs by placing a child in our midst, we discover there an inexhaustible supply of wonder for the adult, too.  

Therefore, disciple-making as worshipful play is centered on the story of God as we experience it in childhood—whether it be our first (biological) childhood or our second (new-birth) childhood. One needn’t have children or be a child to approach disciple-making in this way. Disciple-making by play is a method that responds to the story and movement of God by cultivating the qualities of childhood: wonder, imagination, freedom and relationship.  Discipleship by play is both personal and communal—personal because people are formed as the Spirit speaks to each individual and communal because our formation occurs in the context of a “circle of relationships”.

                Thanks to the pioneering work of Sofia Cavalletti, Jerome Berryman and Sonja Stewart we have a discernable pattern we can follow should we endeavor to practice disciple-making by play. It is derived from the movements of a “grown-up” worship service but it is adapted so the child (or childlike) can enter into God’s presence in a way that quickens their spiritual sensibilities.

                As is the case in “adult” worship, the pattern of discipleship by play boils down to a simple dialectic: hearing and response. We hear the Word of God and we respond to it. That said, it takes intentionality to fully hear and respond so the process includes a time of preparation prior to hearing as well as an array of responses, both “gathered” and “scattered”. Here are the stages in fuller form:

1. Turning our attention to God’s Presence.

-We cross the threshold

-We form the circle

-We focus our hearing

-We focus our sight

-We practice silence

We call this “Getting Ready” or “Call to Worship”

2. Listening to God’s Presence.

-We tell each story in the midst of the whole Story.

-We tell the story simply.

-We tell the story slowly.

-We tell the story visually.

-We unfold the story in the center of the circle.

We call this “Hearing the Story”

3. Wondering in God’s Presence.

-We consider questions that quicken the imagination.

-We see the surprise of God in the story.

-We place ourselves in the story.

-We learn from each other.

-We reflect on aspects of the story that provide consolation or desolation.

-We discover continuity with other stories.

We call this “Wondering”

4. Responding to God’s Presence.

-We are free to respond as God prompts.

-We may respond with art.

-We may respond with reading.

-We may respond with writing.

-We may respond with telling a story to another.

-We may respond with singing.

-We may respond with focused prayer.

We call this “Responding”

5. Fellowshipping in God’s Presence.

-We share food together.

-We serve one another.

-We share joys and sorrows together.

-We pray for one another and give thanks together.

-We sing together.

-We practice generosity.

We call this “Feasting”

6. Going in God’s Presence.

-We remember we are the light of the world.

-We give and receive a blessing to “go with God.”

-We go, looking for where God is already at work in the world.

-We resolve to join God in God’s work in the world.

We call this “Blessing” or “Benediction”

This method of making disciples follows a weekly rhythm, but it could also be modified for practice on a daily basis. Further, it is presented in a larger annual rhythm since the stories can interface with the church calendar, if one so desires.

There are three main genres: stories that present historical narratives, stories that are parables and stories that orient worshippers to practices (liturgical actions) such as Advent and Lent, baptism and communion.  The main stories that propel the action of Scripture forward are considered first and then as the disciple grows older the supporting stories round out the narrative. Texts that are propositional in nature are considered in the light of the story in which they came.

Though this method was designed for use with children, I wonder…in what ways could adults benefit from it, too? How might it be adapted for use with adults?

……………………………………………………..…..

PlayFull provides training in children’s ministry and seeks to establish PlayGroups whereby young and old can grow via playful methods. Write Troy to inquire how PlayFull can help you and your ministry. To read a description of a training sequence we provide, click here. Thank you for reading.

In other news, we invite you to like PlayFull on Facebook or follow PlayFull on Twitter!

you first, God

I have the privilege of serving in children's ministry at our church. This morning I sent out an email reminding parents, teachers and helpers about some values we seek to reinforce in the way we approach ministry--beyond the specific content we feature. As I looked at those reflections again, I thought I'd share them here with a broader audience in hopes they might be helpful to others and stir imagination. Here's the short letter...

-Troy

............................

We structure our children’s ministry time on Sundays in such a way that minute-by-minute the children are hearing the message “You first, God” and being invited to order their lives after God’s desires, not our own.

Our time together is counter-cultural on purpose. We want to provide an atmosphere that is slow and quiet because the world we live in tends to be fast and loud. We intentionally unplug from technology because we know children get plenty of that in their Monday through Saturday. We even take care in how we cross the threshold into the children’s ministry worship spaces. In our everyday lives, we often move from one place to the next without pausing to consider what is already waiting for us on “the other side”. But on Sunday our slow and quiet way of entering the children’s ministry room reinforces the notion that God is already there. As we cross the threshold, we anticipate that we are going to be aware of God’s presence and something special awaits us in our time together.

Together. That is a special word, isn’t it? It is one thing to gather; it is another thing to truly be together. Notice how the one word “together” joins two words “to gather”.

We gather to be together. Gathering does not guarantee togetherness. For that, we need a heart-change, a reorientation of self.

Here’s how we try to nurture this “reorientation of self” in our ministry.

1. Through the reverent, gentle way we work with the story objects.

2. Through the formation of a circle in which the story of God is placed in the center.

3. Through the placement of the Focal Story (that’s what we call it) in the center of the front altar.

4. Through the marking of time each week that retells the entire Jesus story annually.

We also counter a “Me first” attitude through “managing the circle of relationships.” It is a way of being together that seeks mutual respect. We practice the dialectic of listening and speaking, making space for one another.

We are far from perfect at this, but that is why we keep trying to reinforce these things each week. Some weeks we do better at this than other weeks. That’s okay. But we will keep trying. We will not give up because we believe that in all this we are seeking first God’s kingdom, the way God wants us to live. Beyond the specific content we deliver, it is by this process we hope to instill a sense of “You first, God!” in all of us.

So, here’s some homework: consider how you can live into values like this in your everyday life--at home, at work, in leisure.  What will you need to stop doing, start doing and keep doing? Be intentional about it.  Practice yourself what the children at our church are practicing. It’s truly life-giving.

the beautiful branch

We all grow in surprising ways. On Sunday I was privileged to share a story that reminded me of this. It is a story Jesus told, a parable:

The kingdom of heaven is like a person with the tiniest of all seeds, a mustard seed. It is so small that if I had one on the tip of my finger, you would not be able to see it with your naked eye. The person planted the seed in the ground and it began to grow. It grew into a large bush and then it grew so large it became like a tree. Soon, all kinds of birds came and made a home in the tree.

More or less, those are the words of the story Jesus told. Now here are some of the things you can picture in your mind’s eye: the “tree” is wild. It does not grow symmetrically. The birds are many-colored, also wild. Some of them make nests in the tree and some just want to fly. One of them comes very close to the person who planted the seed. This bird reminds me of the time Jesus came out of the baptismal water—and the Spirit in the form of a dove came close to him.

On Sunday when I told the story I saw new things in it. I imagined the person as the Father and the invisible seed as Jesus. I imagined the birds as the Holy Spirit—now red, then blue—sometimes black, white or gray—speckled or streaked—any color you can imagine. The Spirit makes a home and flies free. The Spirit loves both the plant and the planter.

The invisible seed (Jesus, the hidden God) grew and grew. We are the branches; each of us is a part of him, each of us makes a home for the Spirit of many-colors.

It was my daughter’s birthday on Sunday. As I entered into the wonder of the story, I savored a prayer of thanks for her life, grown from a wild vine. Like the branches in the story, I could not have predicted how or where she would grow--but one thing is unmistakable: the Spirit has made a home in her. Thinking of this still takes my breath away in worship.

Meaghan, you are beautiful. God loves you and so do I. Thank you for the shade you’ve given this weary traveler.  You are truly a gift worthy of celebration.

it takes time

In the story, the people of Israel are taken from Jerusalem to Babylon. As they leave the city, they look back and see the smoke rising. The soldiers marched the people of God a long, long way from their home to the place of exile. The journey took a very long time and some of the people died on the way. The exile lasted 70 years, the passing of a full generation.

In the children’s ministry curriculum Godly Play, the telling of the story involves moving the people from "Jerusalem" to "Babylon.” There is a river in the way and the people are led around it. Of course, this adds some extra seconds to the telling of the story.

Two weeks ago, I had the privilege of telling this story to a group of children in upper elementary school. As the people moved, we tried to practice silence. But, this was hard. A bit of dialogue:

The children: "Can't we just put the people over there?"

Me: "No, we can't."

"But, why?"

"Because they couldn't just go over there like that and their story is our story."

"But, we know that. Let's just put them over there so we can keep telling the story."

"Well, I would like to do that--and that would be nice--but that's not how the story goes. They had to go this way. They couldn't just hop over there in a second. Think about this for a second. Let's wonder a bit."

I gestured to one of the children and asked: "How old are you now?"

"Nine."

"Let's say you were one of the children taken into captivity. How old would you be when you returned to Jerusalem?"

We discussed that for a bit and then noted: "You would have spent your whole life away from home."

After we finished wondering about the story, a couple of the children wanted to work with the story more during a free response time we host every week. When it came to moving the people to Babylon, the waiting was too much so in their telling of the story the children just picked up the people and began moving them to Babylon like Superman.

A helper was on-hand, gently reminding them: "Remember? That's not how the story goes. It took them a long time to go. They couldn't just hop over the river. They went around it."

With that, I was happy to see that the children slowed down a bit and took time to be faithful to the waiting-story.

Our goal in this little exercise was to help the kids feel the "dissonance" of waiting. Waiting is one of those things that cannot be taught by just talking about it. In our day and age we are not accustomed to waiting for anything. We are told that people have a short attention span nowadays so it's our job to make sure they don't get bored. "Keep it moving." But waiting is good for our soul and there is no sound-bite shortcut to this. We can't learn waiting by some clever technique of not-waiting. We can only learn the value of waiting by waiting. It takes time. We don't like it, but that does not change the fact that waiting takes time. Making friends with this kind of waiting is one of the best things we could ever do for ourselves or encourage others to do. May we learn to wait.

good for every soul

In my work as a minister to children at our church, we use a particular approach to ministry which I personally believe is good for everyone—young and old. Let me introduce you to some of the big ideas embodied in this method. As you read these principles, I invite you to consider applying them as you tend to your own growth in faith and mission—or as you serve in nurturing the growth of others.

1. Synergy:

Everything takes two. We grow by relationship. There is “give-and-take” involved as well as “take-and-give”.  

Our relationship with God is synergistic. God comes close to us and we can draw near to God.

Our relationship with others is synergistic. We exchange listening and speaking, expressing and contemplating.

The process of working-together is itself an impetus towards maturity. Our growth depends, then, on how we respond to what faces us and whether we embrace or marginalize those we encounter. Hence, the second principle…

2. Readiness:

There are habits (both internal and external) we can cultivate to put us in a state of “readiness” for genuine encounter. Some of these habits include:

a. Stillness.

It is impossible to encounter the fullness of another person, idea or object when our minds and hearts are preoccupied with other matters. This is why the psalmist wrote: “…give me an undivided heart.” To love another is to fully attend to them. God makes us the “apple of his eye”—that is, he (The Center) has chosen to make us the center upon which he fixes his attention and love. Sounds almost heretical, I know. But, it’s true!

The law of synergy above suggests that God does this so we may return the favor freely. So, God invites us to make him the apple of our eye by stilling our soul, putting to rest anything that would distract us from the object of our love.  The same is true in human relationship.

“Be still and know…”

b. Preparing space.

The practice of stillness represents the preparation of internal space towards genuine encounter.  Sometimes this internal shift leads to a rearrangement of the room around us. Sometimes, however, preparing external space is what helps create this internal space.

A big example: at the top of my street the city tore down an old library so they could build a new one. Why? So neighborhood residents could have a space more conducive to learning.

A small example: This morning, before reading my Bible, I lit a scented candle and put it on a table I could see. I did this so that, if my attention wandered, I would have a visual focus to lead me back to stillness again.

Keep in mind, however, that sometimes the preparation of space serves as no more than a distraction to genuine encounter. Sometimes we get so busy “preparing a space” that we have no time and energy left to engage in that for which we prepared the space in the first place! This is something only you can know for yourself. Strive for balance in this.

Keep in mind, also: preparing space involves getting your body ready for what is to come. You can put yourself in a “posture” of readiness. Kneeling in prayer sometimes helps me embrace a spirit of prayer. Sitting in a position that leans towards someone often helps me be a better listener.

That said, here are some questions you might consider:  How do you prepare space? What kind of surroundings do you like to be in when meeting with a friend or having time with just you and God? When you meet with someone else or with God do you do so with a sense of “ready anticipation”?

c. Preparing time.

I am learning that if I do not take time to meet with God or with a friend (or even with my family), it will not happen. I have to set aside the time.

This is because, with each passing year, the world and its demands grow more and more complex. There are more people to keep in touch with, there are more possessions to steward, more books to read, more things to say. There is more, more, more.

Except time. That is the only thing I will never have more of.

So, it is up to me to steward the time well. This involves a critical choice. Will I take time for others? Will I take time to be with God?

But no sooner do I choose to “take time” than I become aware how counter-cultural it is to do so. It feels strange, this “setting aside of time”! It feels wasteful and slow. It feels inefficient and unproductive. It feels childish and I ask myself, “Is it really necessary to go this slow?”

In my work as a storyteller, I sometimes relate the story slowly and I find that we quickly become fidgety at such slowness—myself included! We incorporate silent moments into the story so we may have time to think or hear something we never heard before.

In almost every instance, we feel compelled to “speed it up, whydon’tchya?” Surely, we know this story already!

But, if we are going to meet with God and others we can only do so in time. So, take time. Set it aside and go slow. You’ll thank yourself.

d. Silence.

The best way to get ready to listen is to be silent and wait. There is no short-cut for this; there are no other alternatives. We cannot listen and speak at the same time. To listen, we must shut our mouth and silence the words in our head—and listen.

But we have so much to say! Yes, this is true.

And that is our problem. For there is far more that we have to receive than what we have to give. We are not the be-all and end-all of it all, after all.

So, we still ourselves,

we prepare space,

we prepare time,

and we practice silence.

Now, we are ready.

3. Tell stories and wonder.

Stories are more complex than propositions—unless we can see the story behind the proposition! There is a story behind Jesus’ command to “love your enemies.” In fact, there are many stories behind that command. The words invite us to live into the proposition. When we live into it, the proposition becomes a story—and in the story we encounter Truth—which is living, personal, and filled with beauty, mystery.

What’s more, there is no exhausting the Truth. We can learn all there is to learn about facts. I heard someone once who memorized the whole Gospel of Mark; he knew it word for word without error. But what impressed me more was that this man seemed to cherish the words he learned. There was a Person behind the words that he grew to love dearly.

That is the difference between true and Truth. Something may be true objectively but when we experience it first-hand (subjectively) it becomes Truth. Stories take true things and relate them to us in such a way that they become Truth. By engaging stories, we also have the chance to explore countless questions that arise. There is always something more to be discovered because our mind and heart cannot hold it all at one point in time. That is why stories are so crucial to one’s process of maturing. They provide occasion to wonder.

There is much more that could be said, but I suppose that is enough to chew on for now. Until later, I invite you to consider how you might appropriate some of these principles in your own life.

I hope this helps you in some way!

Yours,

Troy

grief and parable

A few months ago I paid a visit to Indianapolis and facilitated a meeting with a small group of Christians. During the meeting, one of the men was clearly in pain. So, we prayed for him.

Just weeks after that, doctors discovered that the pain in his leg was caused by a tumor. He did not have long to live. About a month later, he died.

About six weeks ago, some other friends had a baby. Nine days ago the mother died of cancer.

Yesterday, a friend went to the funeral of a co-worker who was murdered eight days ago and on Friday another friend’s sister just passed away in old age.

So, today I'd like to tell a story that helps me process this grief.

Head over to PlayFull to read on, if you like.

work and rest

"I wonder what the best present you ever got is?"

Both young and old looked at me and looked around and searched their minds. A child raised her hand:

"Life."

"Yes, that is a pretty good gift, isn't it? Anyone have something to top that?" I asked.

No, I don't think so. We laughed.

"Sometimes gifts are so big and so special, we don't even realize they are there. So, we have to go back to the beginning to remember them."

That's what we did yesterday. We went back to the beginning: we wondered about the creation story together.

To read the rest of the story, head over to PlayFull...

i wonder where heaven could really be

"I wonder where heaven could really be?"

This is the question I asked some kids in Sunday school last week. We had just told the story of the ascension by using a large candle (that we call "the Christ candle") as a visual focus.

"When the light is out, we say 'Christ has died.'" I moved my hand slowly down the side of the candle to signify Jesus' burial.

"But God raised Jesus from the dead and so we say 'Christ is risen!"

As I moved my hand up the candle and lit the wick, the kids naturally wanted to respond with our church's traditional litany: "He is risen, indeed!"

I smiled, "That's right. 'Christ is risen. He is risen, indeed.'"

I went on to tell them how Jesus met with his friends after he came back to life. He told them to wait for the gift of the Holy Spirit so they would have power to tell everyone about Jesus and about the kingdom of God. Then...he told them he was going away. They would not see him anymore, but he would be with them.

One of the kids said, "Yes, like the Christ candle. We light it to remind us Christ is with us even though we can't see him."

"That's right," I said. "Then, he disappeared from their sight into a cloud."

I took the snuffer and made a "cloud" with the smoke from the changed light. I raised the snuffer way up high, as high as I could reach so the smoke followed it.  Then, we wondered together where Jesus had gone.

"Heaven," someone said.

"Yes, and I wonder where heaven could really be?"

One of the children pointed way up high where I had been holding the candle snuffer.

"Hm, yes. And I wonder if it could be other places, too. Watch."

I lit the candle again and as I applied the snuffer to it slowly, I said, "Watch. Watch closely now. Watch where the cloud is."

"It's all around us," one of them said.

 "That's right," I said. "It's very close to us. Closer than we realize. I wonder if heaven could be right next to us."

"Yeah, probably," said a little one, believing.

the importance of wondering

I serve as a part time children's ministry coordinator at our church. Today's post comes from the feature story of yesterday's newsletter I sent out to parents, teachers and helpers. I hope reading it will help you embrace the practice of wondering. -Troy

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Consider these words from Abraham Joshua Heschel in his book Man is Not Alone: "The greatest hindrance to knowledge is our adjustment to conventional notions, to mental clichés. Wonder or radical amazement, the state of maladjustment to words and notions, is, therefore, a prerequisite for an authentic awareness of that which is."

Recently, I had the opportunity to present Godly Play (one of the curricula we use at Grace Church) to a group of students at North Park Seminary. In a debrief after presenting a sample Godly Play session one of the students commented that aspects of the story were like "splinters in the mind." That is, ideas were placed within the mind of the listener that didn't make sense at first but would be worked out later, even into adulthood.

Consider Jesus' parables: most often he simply told his parable while providing no explanation. Today these parables still serve as "splinters in the mind" of Jesus' followers and yet consider how crucial they are to our spiritual growth!

As we grow older we too often lose our sense of childlike wonder. If we provide children space to truly wonder about the stories of Scripture they will make associations we would never think of.

Last week in the Sunday School class I taught, we wondered about the story of Jesus talking with the teachers in the temple when he was a boy. The story stated that Jesus loved to hear "the great teachers tell the stories of God." As we wondered about the story I pointed out the "stories of God" that surrounded the children in the room on the shelves outlining our worship circle. I asked them, "I wonder if Jesus had a favorite story? I wonder if one of these stories could have been Jesus' favorite?"

The children looked at the shelves containing objects that related a broad sweep of key stories from the Old Testament.

One of the children pointed at the Tabernacle and said, "I think this was Jesus' favorite!"

I wondered why, what was so special about that story. We wondered together if, perhaps, the ark that went inside the Tabernacle was what made that story so special. Then, I wondered if that same ark were in the Temple in Jesus' day.

Yes, a splinter in the mind. We did not answer the question right then. The children just wondered about it together.

Later, we wondered together how Jesus traveled from Nazareth to Jerusalem. The kids knew: he walked.

I asked, "I wonder if Jesus was happy or sad walking all that way?"

And one child answered, "Happy."

"Now, I wonder why he would be happy walking all that way?" I asked.

 "Because that meant he had more time to pray," she answered.

 And that was a splinter in my mind: why do I take so little time to pray and when I do pray, why do I not feel happier?

 I invite you to enjoy wondering this week. Take time to follow roads you wouldn't normally consider.

christology in kids ministry?

Last night I taught my kids that Jesus was human.

Christology is the particular field of theology which asks the question, "How could Jesus be both fully human and fully God?" As a student of historical theology, I have long been convinced this question lies at the core of our Christian faith, but I have never entered into it so personally as I did last night in "Sunday school" with my kids. And I am not joking about that!

There is a story in the kid's ministry program we use (called Godly Play) in which the story-teller and children wonder about the core elements of the Jesus-story. The story begins with Jesus' birth, then proceeds on to:

-his childhood
-his baptism
-his battle with temptation in the desert
-his core ministry
-his last supper
-his death and resurrection
-his presence with us today

My children and I have shared in wondering about this story many, many times over the years. (At the top of this post is the first of seven tiles that are presented as visual foci in the story-telling). I figure I have been telling this story to Meaghan and Nic for the past six years, at least. We return to it at least once a year and it never gets boring because the story is rich enough to return to again and again and again. Each time we are able to wonder about it afresh and notice new things in the story.

After telling the story I asked Meaghan and Nic if they saw any object in the room that fit with the last two parts of the story I just told (last night I added the "temptation" part of the story and the "core ministry" part of the story that includes the phrase "Jesus came close to the people no one else wanted to come close to".) Through this simple exercise we were able to connect these parts of the story with Jesus' parables--particularly the parable of the Good Shepherd.

After this, I asked another series of questions that began when Nicolas noticed something in the artistic renderings of Jesus in two of the story's tiles.

The first one shows the face of Jesus with the back of John the Baptist's head. John the Baptist, it is said in the story, "was a wild man."

The next tile shows Jesus being tempted (accused) by Satan in the desert.

Here are the two tiles. First, the baptism tile with the back of John's head to the right; then, the temptation tile with a profile of Jesus' face to the right.




Nicolas noticed that the Jesus of the temptation picture looked a lot like John of the baptism picture.

I thought that was a brilliant observation. Once again, my children taught me something. Here's what happened:

I discovered that in the past whenever I told the story I always grew uncomfortable with the bits of the story that pointed out Jesus' humanity. For example, in the part of the story where the boy Jesus is in the temple, the story says that when Jesus spoke the teachers listened because he knew so much. But then the story goes on to say that when the teachers spoke Jesus listened because he wanted to learn even more.

In the past, this second observation always made me feel uncomfortable because I thought that was a statement that diminished Jesus' divinity. I always viewed it as a "liberal" interpolation into the story, a way of subtly questioning the fact that Jesus was God.

But as we delved into the part of the story that began with Nic's observation that Jesus was like John the Baptist, we noticed that every part of the story includes the notion that Jesus was not just divine--he was also fully human.

As we did that I began to notice that I have spent much of my Christian life feeling strange and shy about Jesus' humanity--as if his humanity somehow threatened my faith.

But last night in Godly Play with my children I learned in a more personal way (not just in my head) that, far from posing a threat to my faith, Jesus' humanity could impart hope to my soul. See, last night I saw in Jesus' humanity a level of compassion, love and solidarity that I had never seen before. He identified with us in every way and it is only in that intimate identification that we find our salvation. If Jesus had not come close to the people that "no one else wanted to come close to" we would be literally lost and without hope. And if Jesus had not become fully human he would not have been able to come close to us.

Last night I realized that, in many respects, I am one of those lost ones. I am one of those people that many do not want to come close to. I am the blind beggar--the one who is sometimes viewed more as a hindrance than a help. It's comforting to know that Jesus, in becoming human, came close to me, so close that he could touch my eyes, so I could see.

We need to teach our kids (and each other) that Jesus was human, for this teaching is far from heretical; in fact, it is essential.

6. two kids books that influenced me greatly

My list of books that influenced me greatly this past decade would not be complete without acknowledging that, yes, there have been two books that were written for children that have changed my life significantly.

The first is a method we have used for our kid's ministry in Oasis. It is called Godly Play. The Godly Play method features:

1. Simple story-telling without the hype. Through this quiet, deliberate and thoughtful method of story-telling, children have time and space to "wonder" about the story.

2. Wondering. After the story is told, the children consider a few simple "wondering questions". These wondering questions are not "yes or no" kinds of questions. Rather, they help the children enter into the story and interface it with their own life. My kids have often shown me new things in Bible stories through this wondering time, things I would have never noticed had I not taken the time to look at the story through the eyes of a child.

3. Speaking of that, Godly Play is not age-specific. The story is appropriate for any age, even adults. Younger children are free to wonder about the story on their level and older children can wonder in a more complex fashion. There is no need to separate out children by age group with Godly Play. This helps them grow accustomed to much-needed diversity and helps the children learn to be mindful of others.

4. Response. Once the story has been told and the children have had a chance to "wonder" about the story, there is a time for response. During the response time, the children have many options available to them. In a typical "Sunday School" this would be the time where the "craft" happens, but what's different about Godly Play is that the children are not given all the same craft to do; they are free to use their imagination as to how they'd like to respond to the story.

5. Godly Play is holistic. First, the children are visually reminded every week of the story that binds all Christians together: the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Second, the children are visually surrounded by the entire story of the Bible and have access to it any week of the year. Third, there is time for simple fellowship, free singing, meal sharing and voluntary prayer. This part of the Godly Play session is called "the feast" and it is designed to prepare children for communion and its essence: family.

There is more, but suffice to say this children's ministry method has changed me significantly.

Another children's book that has influenced me is The Young Reader's Bible. It has been our family custom these past 6 or 7 years to have a time in the morning before the kids go to school to say a few short prayers and read a short story from this particular Bible. I've lost track of how many times we've gone through it, but I'm glad we've done it because it has been a much-needed reminder to me of simple, unchanging truths concerning God and his people. Often, I find myself reflecting on the goodness of God through these simple children's stories.

I list these two books as particularly influential for me because learning to view my faith through the eyes of children has been wonderfully liberating. Maybe you'd like to try the same.