Thursday, September 24, 2009
Artists & Payroll Prophets
Artists & Payroll Prophets from The Work Of The People on Vimeo.
Here's an outtake from our recent chat with author and professor John Goldingay. To view fims from our conversation go here: http://www.theworkofthepeople.com/index.php?cid=2027
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Did George Harrison go to hell? (Guest Post)
A guest post for our Brazilian brother, TWOTP Visual Liturgist and musician Dago Schelin - We think he's got some good, if not uncomfortable points. What do you guys think?
Did George Harrison go to hell?
I remember Travis and I in the car having an interesting discussion about George Harrison. “My sweet Lord, I really want to see you, I really want to be with you, I really want to see you Lord, but it takes so long, my Lord.” A songwriter honestly crying out to (a) God, it seems. We decided to enter the realm of that poor evangelical question: did George Harrison go to hell? What if he was honestly wanting to praise God with his lyrics and life? What if (as with Gandhi) the lifestyle of Christians he met dissuaded him from becoming one? Could God have redirected the worship to himself and excused George?
In the end, our (in)conclusion was that above all questions, it is Jesus who saves. Period. Perhaps our original question was stupid anyway, and we might even be accused of relativism – though if sinners like Travis and me can feel compassion for George Harrison, how much more mercy can Jesus have? But the fact of the matter is: God is good.
One book that really made a difference in my life and cleared up several doubts I had about being a Christian and being an artist was Francky Schaeffer’s “Addicted to Mediocrity: 20th Century Christians and the Arts.” He shows how, in the book of Genesis, the Creator, after each day of having created something new, “saw that it was good.” Not judging the usefulness of a landscape, an animal or Adam and Eve. In summary, we don’t make art because it is useful – for evangelism, for teaching, for whatever – we make art simply because it is good. When we create we are imitating the one in whose image we were created (don’t you love this word?). So, as far as Art is concerned, it’s not about being Christian, it’s about being good. [which automatically means we are about God, because God is about good.]
So what is so special about being a Christian? For one, it is certainly not the “privilege” of being able to enjoy contemporary “churchy” worship music (functional useful music). Boy how I hate it when Christians lift contemporary church music to a higher spiritual level and lower music that is not by Christians to a less spiritual level. Tom Jobim is an alcoholic. Here are the words to one of his songs. “This is just a little samba built upon a single note. Other notes are bound to follow, but the root is still that note. Now this new one is the consequence of the one we've just been through, as I'm bound to be the unavoidable consequence of you. There are so many people who can talk and talk and talk and just say nothing or nearly nothing. I have used up all the scale I know and at the end I've come to nothing or nearly nothing. So I came back to my first note as I must come back to you. I will pour into that one note all the love I feel for you. Anyone who wants the whole show: “re mi fa sol la si do”, he will find himself with no show… better play the note you know!”
Are you able to experience the transcendent beauty of his words. Or has a lifetime of church subculture left you numb, de-sensitized, oblivious?
(By the way, the Brazilian version is more poetic… it’s worth learning Portuguese just to be able to understand this song).
Perhaps what is special about being a believing Christian is the ability to recognize God in such beauty and to acknowledge him for it. All good comes from God. There is no way for someone to create something good apart from God. If it’s good, it’s God’s. Michael Jackson’s dance is divine (even if he does grab his crotch a lot). Perhaps Michael did not give God credit for his Heal the World (I don’t know… I didn't know Michael personally), but nonetheless, it is good, it is from God, praise him.
This is just to inspire all of us Christians to freely jump into the enjoyment of good music, good movies, good Art. Let us wake up! Let us not settle for the few fish in the bowl, there is an ocean out there! The horizon is broader than many of us realize. We should listen more, write more, sing more, film more, create more (outside the tight Christianized box), get inspiration from the R-rated and even X-rated parts of Bible literature. That way we will honor our Master much more than if we simply succumb to the branded bland pop-plastic-would-be-holy “art” for sale in Christian bookstores.
I am aware I only mentioned mainstream musicians here. There is much to say about underground art and historical figures like Bach and Handel. This introduction is supposed to be an appetizer which I hope will stir up some discussion. I would love to dialog with others about this.
That’s it for now. No dichotomy. Just God.
-Dago Schelin
http://www.vimeo.com/6099923
Did George Harrison go to hell?
I remember Travis and I in the car having an interesting discussion about George Harrison. “My sweet Lord, I really want to see you, I really want to be with you, I really want to see you Lord, but it takes so long, my Lord.” A songwriter honestly crying out to (a) God, it seems. We decided to enter the realm of that poor evangelical question: did George Harrison go to hell? What if he was honestly wanting to praise God with his lyrics and life? What if (as with Gandhi) the lifestyle of Christians he met dissuaded him from becoming one? Could God have redirected the worship to himself and excused George?
In the end, our (in)conclusion was that above all questions, it is Jesus who saves. Period. Perhaps our original question was stupid anyway, and we might even be accused of relativism – though if sinners like Travis and me can feel compassion for George Harrison, how much more mercy can Jesus have? But the fact of the matter is: God is good.
One book that really made a difference in my life and cleared up several doubts I had about being a Christian and being an artist was Francky Schaeffer’s “Addicted to Mediocrity: 20th Century Christians and the Arts.” He shows how, in the book of Genesis, the Creator, after each day of having created something new, “saw that it was good.” Not judging the usefulness of a landscape, an animal or Adam and Eve. In summary, we don’t make art because it is useful – for evangelism, for teaching, for whatever – we make art simply because it is good. When we create we are imitating the one in whose image we were created (don’t you love this word?). So, as far as Art is concerned, it’s not about being Christian, it’s about being good. [which automatically means we are about God, because God is about good.]
So what is so special about being a Christian? For one, it is certainly not the “privilege” of being able to enjoy contemporary “churchy” worship music (functional useful music). Boy how I hate it when Christians lift contemporary church music to a higher spiritual level and lower music that is not by Christians to a less spiritual level. Tom Jobim is an alcoholic. Here are the words to one of his songs. “This is just a little samba built upon a single note. Other notes are bound to follow, but the root is still that note. Now this new one is the consequence of the one we've just been through, as I'm bound to be the unavoidable consequence of you. There are so many people who can talk and talk and talk and just say nothing or nearly nothing. I have used up all the scale I know and at the end I've come to nothing or nearly nothing. So I came back to my first note as I must come back to you. I will pour into that one note all the love I feel for you. Anyone who wants the whole show: “re mi fa sol la si do”, he will find himself with no show… better play the note you know!”
Are you able to experience the transcendent beauty of his words. Or has a lifetime of church subculture left you numb, de-sensitized, oblivious?
(By the way, the Brazilian version is more poetic… it’s worth learning Portuguese just to be able to understand this song).
Perhaps what is special about being a believing Christian is the ability to recognize God in such beauty and to acknowledge him for it. All good comes from God. There is no way for someone to create something good apart from God. If it’s good, it’s God’s. Michael Jackson’s dance is divine (even if he does grab his crotch a lot). Perhaps Michael did not give God credit for his Heal the World (I don’t know… I didn't know Michael personally), but nonetheless, it is good, it is from God, praise him.
This is just to inspire all of us Christians to freely jump into the enjoyment of good music, good movies, good Art. Let us wake up! Let us not settle for the few fish in the bowl, there is an ocean out there! The horizon is broader than many of us realize. We should listen more, write more, sing more, film more, create more (outside the tight Christianized box), get inspiration from the R-rated and even X-rated parts of Bible literature. That way we will honor our Master much more than if we simply succumb to the branded bland pop-plastic-would-be-holy “art” for sale in Christian bookstores.
I am aware I only mentioned mainstream musicians here. There is much to say about underground art and historical figures like Bach and Handel. This introduction is supposed to be an appetizer which I hope will stir up some discussion. I would love to dialog with others about this.
That’s it for now. No dichotomy. Just God.
-Dago Schelin
http://www.vimeo.com/6099923
Video Enhancements?
An editor at a Christian media magazine recently said, "I believe the use of video in worship can enhance the message or worship experience...Obviously these types of things need to be judged on an individual basis...(Videos) are NEVER intended to replace the sermon, but rather to "enhance" them, just as some good spices make food more desirable."
Just thinking out loud, but a couple questions come to mind:
Why should a video NEVER replace a sermon? What is a "worship experience?" I thought worship was a verb not a noun, let alone an adjective.
A particular verse comes to mind:
1 Cor. 14:26 NIV {emphasis mine}
What then shall we say, brothers? When you come together, EVERYONE has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church.
1 Cor. 14:26 Message
So here's what I want you to do. When you gather for worship, EACH ONE OF YOU be prepared with something that will be useful for all: Sing a hymn, teach a lesson, tell a story, lead a prayer, provide an insight.
A few thoughts come to mind:
Most often, the "sermon" or "message" given on a Sunday morning is "teaching." (didasko) In the New Testament a teacher (didaskales) is often presented as also being a pastor (poimen). Poimen simply means shepherd. In the New Testament teachers are often referred to as teacher-shepherds. The image is of gentle long-term apprenticeship, individual and intimate. The image is in direct contrast to religious experts.
Sunday morning "sermons" or "messages" rarely give an impression of teacher-shepherds. Sunday morning sermons most often give the impression of religious experts. Particularly since the "sermon" or "message" demands all other church activities fall in subservience to it and it's bearers. [I think this is one of the reasons why when personal mentors of mine speak I listen. There is a teacher-shepherd behind the words and that enlivens the words, it comes through in a tangible way.]
Historically, the term "the message" is reserved for THE message, that is; Jesus came to live among us and died as a suffering servant so we don't have to be slaves to the Kingdom of Chaos [things out of right relationship], but we are invited to be citizens of the God's Kingdom of Order [things in right relationship] and Jesus, who has defeated death, has promised to be with us as we try to be citizens of God's Kingdom of Order, and he promised to send a helper to help us be citizens of God's Kingdom of Order. THE message is that simple. If one isn't telling that simple story to someone who hasn't yet heard it, one isn't "preaching." Kerysso, euaggelizo, diaggelio, laleo, kataggello are all words which are translated as "preaching" and all have to do with proclaiming or announcing, and all refer to a short message to a hearer who hasn't yet heard the message.
If you aren't "preaching" as defined above, you are teaching. What happens on a Sunday morning is rarely "preaching" in the biblical sense, and is often teaching. Teaching is not held higher than any other activity or function in the gathering of believers. Indeed, Paul specifically points out "All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church."
THE message, the retelling of Jesus' story, isn't a commodity. It is a retelling of a life lived. It is the story of the life of Jesus. The story of Jesus points to Jesus. The story isn't a thing in and of itself to be packaged, branded, sold and marketed. Besides, it can't be because it isn't finished. The story isn't finished because Jesus is alive. That's part of the story.
To presume the story can be captured on a page to the extent that it can be explained and thus branded and marketed is to kill the story.
The story is alive because Jesus is alive.
The implications of the life lived by Jesus are on going. They are not frozen. They are alive and changing, thus they cannot be a commodity.
The implications of Jesus' life are not a collection of moral imperatives and pious directives to be branded and dispensed by authoritative interpreters of morality and piety within a branded moral and pious sub-culture to which one hopes to draw the non-moral and non-pious so that they might become moral and pious and within which one hopes to retain sufficient numbers of the moral and pious so that one might continue dispensing one's particular brand of moral imperatives and pious directives.
The collective implications of the life lived by Jesus are to be lived out, in the world. It is impossible to do this alone. Thus one comes together with others who are trying to live out the implications of Jesus' life lived. And when you come together, EVERYONE has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church.
Thoughts
-Steve Frost
Just thinking out loud, but a couple questions come to mind:
Why should a video NEVER replace a sermon? What is a "worship experience?" I thought worship was a verb not a noun, let alone an adjective.
A particular verse comes to mind:
1 Cor. 14:26 NIV {emphasis mine}
What then shall we say, brothers? When you come together, EVERYONE has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church.
1 Cor. 14:26 Message
So here's what I want you to do. When you gather for worship, EACH ONE OF YOU be prepared with something that will be useful for all: Sing a hymn, teach a lesson, tell a story, lead a prayer, provide an insight.
A few thoughts come to mind:
Most often, the "sermon" or "message" given on a Sunday morning is "teaching." (didasko) In the New Testament a teacher (didaskales) is often presented as also being a pastor (poimen). Poimen simply means shepherd. In the New Testament teachers are often referred to as teacher-shepherds. The image is of gentle long-term apprenticeship, individual and intimate. The image is in direct contrast to religious experts.
Sunday morning "sermons" or "messages" rarely give an impression of teacher-shepherds. Sunday morning sermons most often give the impression of religious experts. Particularly since the "sermon" or "message" demands all other church activities fall in subservience to it and it's bearers. [I think this is one of the reasons why when personal mentors of mine speak I listen. There is a teacher-shepherd behind the words and that enlivens the words, it comes through in a tangible way.]
Historically, the term "the message" is reserved for THE message, that is; Jesus came to live among us and died as a suffering servant so we don't have to be slaves to the Kingdom of Chaos [things out of right relationship], but we are invited to be citizens of the God's Kingdom of Order [things in right relationship] and Jesus, who has defeated death, has promised to be with us as we try to be citizens of God's Kingdom of Order, and he promised to send a helper to help us be citizens of God's Kingdom of Order. THE message is that simple. If one isn't telling that simple story to someone who hasn't yet heard it, one isn't "preaching." Kerysso, euaggelizo, diaggelio, laleo, kataggello are all words which are translated as "preaching" and all have to do with proclaiming or announcing, and all refer to a short message to a hearer who hasn't yet heard the message.
If you aren't "preaching" as defined above, you are teaching. What happens on a Sunday morning is rarely "preaching" in the biblical sense, and is often teaching. Teaching is not held higher than any other activity or function in the gathering of believers. Indeed, Paul specifically points out "All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church."
THE message, the retelling of Jesus' story, isn't a commodity. It is a retelling of a life lived. It is the story of the life of Jesus. The story of Jesus points to Jesus. The story isn't a thing in and of itself to be packaged, branded, sold and marketed. Besides, it can't be because it isn't finished. The story isn't finished because Jesus is alive. That's part of the story.
To presume the story can be captured on a page to the extent that it can be explained and thus branded and marketed is to kill the story.
The story is alive because Jesus is alive.
The implications of the life lived by Jesus are on going. They are not frozen. They are alive and changing, thus they cannot be a commodity.
The implications of Jesus' life are not a collection of moral imperatives and pious directives to be branded and dispensed by authoritative interpreters of morality and piety within a branded moral and pious sub-culture to which one hopes to draw the non-moral and non-pious so that they might become moral and pious and within which one hopes to retain sufficient numbers of the moral and pious so that one might continue dispensing one's particular brand of moral imperatives and pious directives.
The collective implications of the life lived by Jesus are to be lived out, in the world. It is impossible to do this alone. Thus one comes together with others who are trying to live out the implications of Jesus' life lived. And when you come together, EVERYONE has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church.
Thoughts
-Steve Frost
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The "Worship Artists" Pledge
Trying not to waste good redemtive anger but....I came across a blog from a group that consults church media artists who wrote...
"In commercial art, (which is essentially what we as worship artists do) it’s important to understand that design is about communication, not dazzling the viewer."
So...what is a "worship artist?"
"In commercial art, (which is essentially what we as worship artists do) it’s important to understand that design is about communication, not dazzling the viewer."
So...what is a "worship artist?"
I thought worship was a verb, not a noun, let alone an adjective.
In five years people will be tossing around the term "worship artists" like "worship artists" are rock stars and we'll all be gaga over the best and most famous "worship artists" but no one will know or question what "worship artist" means.
Apparently it means you're a commercial artist, but you aren't a commercial artist living your life with other commercial artists who might need to see your example of living the life of a commercial artist while at the same time living as though God's kingdom is really real. No, you're a commercial artist working in a worship-experience factory where you have absolutely no contact with other artists, commercial or otherwise.
It means you are manufacturing chunks of communication-product made to the CEO's specifications. Then every Sunday people come to your CEO's branded warehouse to buy the CEO's branded communication-product and with the proceeds you can keep the factory running to keep making communication-product. This self perpetuating factory is worthwhile not because it or any of its product does anything worthwhile, but because the communication-product is, as an abstract propositional notion completely divorced from everyday life, sacred and therefore worth promulgating endlessly.
And why are artists the ones who are so hippity hop eager to point this out?
"...it’s important to understand that design is about communication, not dazzling the viewer."
If the most your art can do is explain, then use words, they work better. Art is about ambiguity, mystery, tension. It takes work on the part of the artist and the viewer. If the artist is the only one working, it isn't art.
In five years people will be tossing around the term "worship artists" like "worship artists" are rock stars and we'll all be gaga over the best and most famous "worship artists" but no one will know or question what "worship artist" means.
Apparently it means you're a commercial artist, but you aren't a commercial artist living your life with other commercial artists who might need to see your example of living the life of a commercial artist while at the same time living as though God's kingdom is really real. No, you're a commercial artist working in a worship-experience factory where you have absolutely no contact with other artists, commercial or otherwise.
It means you are manufacturing chunks of communication-product made to the CEO's specifications. Then every Sunday people come to your CEO's branded warehouse to buy the CEO's branded communication-product and with the proceeds you can keep the factory running to keep making communication-product. This self perpetuating factory is worthwhile not because it or any of its product does anything worthwhile, but because the communication-product is, as an abstract propositional notion completely divorced from everyday life, sacred and therefore worth promulgating endlessly.
And why are artists the ones who are so hippity hop eager to point this out?
"...it’s important to understand that design is about communication, not dazzling the viewer."
If the most your art can do is explain, then use words, they work better. Art is about ambiguity, mystery, tension. It takes work on the part of the artist and the viewer. If the artist is the only one working, it isn't art.
It's like all these artists have been absorbed into the Borg whose sole purpose is carrying out the will of the CEO Bringer-Forth of Communication. So even though, as artists their soul is being ripped apart as they say it, they don't know what else to say, so they parrot what's been hammered into their brains over endless staff meetings.
And lo, thou shalt sign the worship artist's pledge.
I am, in every way, subservient to the Bringer-Forth of Communication.
I will communicate.
There will be rational monologue
There will be propositional reasoning.
There will be control.
There will be predictable results.
There will not be discourse.
There will not be mystery.
There will not be ambiguity.
There will not be trust.
- Steve Frost
And lo, thou shalt sign the worship artist's pledge.
I am, in every way, subservient to the Bringer-Forth of Communication.
I will communicate.
There will be rational monologue
There will be propositional reasoning.
There will be control.
There will be predictable results.
There will not be discourse.
There will not be mystery.
There will not be ambiguity.
There will not be trust.
- Steve Frost
Monday, September 07, 2009
Facebook Liturgy and Hospital Sacraments
Mark Ingalls is an elder at my church and his beautiful wife Edna is deep in the fight against cancer. Below are his Facebook posts from an evenings during a recent 10 day stint in the hospital with Edna. Eyes to see...ears to hear...
Mark W. Ingalls
has walked through the halls of more than one hospital on more than one occasion. They, too, are holy places. A place doesn't have to be perfect to be holy. Neither does a person.
Fri at 3:35pm · Comment · Like / Unlike
Travis Reed
What do you see and hear?
Fri at 3:42pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Well posed question, m' friend. Let me go back and remember...
Fri at 6:34pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I see Joyce the RN on Alkek 10 NW. She is stalking every little thing that might bother Edna, and add to her suffering. She is creating a sacrament of loving service. Later, as we were fixin' to leave, Edna mentioned how Joyce's little touches made her feel better. Joyce looked at her feet and confessed, "This is my ministry."
Fri at 6:44pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I go down to the coffee shop for a break from 'the room'. Before I can order my coffee, I hear someone calling to me from behind the counter. It is the barista, who remembers me from a day ago. I can't make out what she's saying yet, but she clearly recognizes me... happily. Handing me my coffee, she says she is praying my wife will do better today. In a world of Preaching Pastors, Teaching Pastors, Evangelism Pastors, Youth Pastors, ..., this is my Coffee Pastor.
Fri at 6:53pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Walking back to the elevator, I am moving against a steady stream of people. I discern two groups: The badgeless, sleepy-eyed, motley visitors and patients are mostly preoccupied with 'it'. Then there are the people who are coming to work. They all seem to clasp their hands together and smile at me, ever so slightly. Yes, they know about 'it' ... Read Morebecause they too deal with 'it' every day. But they also know that, although they haven't totally beaten 'it' yet, they are at least slowing 'its' relentless advance as we all retreat, wounded, but not conquered by 'it' yet. These are the soldiers in the desperate fight against darkness and suffering.
Fri at 7:10pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Dissappearing around the corner is a little bald imp shoving an IV pole. He/she is one of the suffering little children coming unto Him, their pain the more poignant because it is wrapped in innocence. They are the acolytes at the alter of suffering.
Fri at 7:19pm
Mark W. Ingalls
The elevator is numinous. Its doors of perception open to the holy of holies, the floor where Edna has been trying to let her good thoughts float atop the bad-- "Ding! (swishhh)..." My epiphany is accompanied by bells and wing-beats. I perceive a ripple of spiritual energy moving from where I am to the nurses' station, pulling me toward it. As I ... Read Moreapproach, Edna's nurse asks how *I* am. I reply by changing the subject, "This is a Holy Place!" She and her comrade glance at each other from the corners of their eyes and smile. "Yes. Thanks for noticing," she replies quietly. They are two Marys, who know the secret whereabouts of their Lord.
Fri at 7:44pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I enter Edna's room. She is sitting up in bed. She is talking with her healthy voice and smiling. It seems I had just seen her suffering and crying. It feels supernatural. This is a holy place.
Fri at 8:04pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I pass Edna's oncologist in the hallway. She asks how we're doing. I give her the, "This is a Holy Place," and she replies, "Well, some days are better than others." She is probably referring to the delay in figuring out Edna's diagnosis. I realize in this moment that a place doesn't have to be perfect to be holy. Neither does a person.
Fri at 8:20pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Edna's voice adds, "Neither does a circumstance." Amen
Fri at 8:56pm
Travis Reed
No words...communion...light...thank you...amen.
Sat at 9:02am
Mark W. Ingalls
has walked through the halls of more than one hospital on more than one occasion. They, too, are holy places. A place doesn't have to be perfect to be holy. Neither does a person.
Fri at 3:35pm · Comment · Like / Unlike
Travis Reed
What do you see and hear?
Fri at 3:42pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Well posed question, m' friend. Let me go back and remember...
Fri at 6:34pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I see Joyce the RN on Alkek 10 NW. She is stalking every little thing that might bother Edna, and add to her suffering. She is creating a sacrament of loving service. Later, as we were fixin' to leave, Edna mentioned how Joyce's little touches made her feel better. Joyce looked at her feet and confessed, "This is my ministry."
Fri at 6:44pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I go down to the coffee shop for a break from 'the room'. Before I can order my coffee, I hear someone calling to me from behind the counter. It is the barista, who remembers me from a day ago. I can't make out what she's saying yet, but she clearly recognizes me... happily. Handing me my coffee, she says she is praying my wife will do better today. In a world of Preaching Pastors, Teaching Pastors, Evangelism Pastors, Youth Pastors, ..., this is my Coffee Pastor.
Fri at 6:53pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Walking back to the elevator, I am moving against a steady stream of people. I discern two groups: The badgeless, sleepy-eyed, motley visitors and patients are mostly preoccupied with 'it'. Then there are the people who are coming to work. They all seem to clasp their hands together and smile at me, ever so slightly. Yes, they know about 'it' ... Read Morebecause they too deal with 'it' every day. But they also know that, although they haven't totally beaten 'it' yet, they are at least slowing 'its' relentless advance as we all retreat, wounded, but not conquered by 'it' yet. These are the soldiers in the desperate fight against darkness and suffering.
Fri at 7:10pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Dissappearing around the corner is a little bald imp shoving an IV pole. He/she is one of the suffering little children coming unto Him, their pain the more poignant because it is wrapped in innocence. They are the acolytes at the alter of suffering.
Fri at 7:19pm
Mark W. Ingalls
The elevator is numinous. Its doors of perception open to the holy of holies, the floor where Edna has been trying to let her good thoughts float atop the bad-- "Ding! (swishhh)..." My epiphany is accompanied by bells and wing-beats. I perceive a ripple of spiritual energy moving from where I am to the nurses' station, pulling me toward it. As I ... Read Moreapproach, Edna's nurse asks how *I* am. I reply by changing the subject, "This is a Holy Place!" She and her comrade glance at each other from the corners of their eyes and smile. "Yes. Thanks for noticing," she replies quietly. They are two Marys, who know the secret whereabouts of their Lord.
Fri at 7:44pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I enter Edna's room. She is sitting up in bed. She is talking with her healthy voice and smiling. It seems I had just seen her suffering and crying. It feels supernatural. This is a holy place.
Fri at 8:04pm
Mark W. Ingalls
I pass Edna's oncologist in the hallway. She asks how we're doing. I give her the, "This is a Holy Place," and she replies, "Well, some days are better than others." She is probably referring to the delay in figuring out Edna's diagnosis. I realize in this moment that a place doesn't have to be perfect to be holy. Neither does a person.
Fri at 8:20pm
Mark W. Ingalls
Edna's voice adds, "Neither does a circumstance." Amen
Fri at 8:56pm
Travis Reed
No words...communion...light...thank you...amen.
Sat at 9:02am
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Did you hear about Don?
Did you hear about Don?
A simple question and I instantly knew something was wrong. Don is a dear friend, one of my best friends. My mind lurched to worse case scenario. He's gone. My blood turned to ice. The depth and speed of the impact was shocking. It lasted maybe half a second as my wife completed her sentence, "He's okay, he had a biking accident and he's in the hospital with cracked vertebrae."
Relief.
Really? Relief? My friend is in the hospital with cracked vertebrae and I'm relieved? Yep, the half second dance with monumental loss was frightening enough to make anything else seem a relief.
But the half second was clarifying. It swept away the trivial and left only who and what is important. Today Don told me he experienced the same thing on the other side of the equation. Apparently, as one lies in pain waiting to hear if everything is all right, it's one's deepest connections which come immediately to mind.
This fleeting brush with my friend's mortality, and thus my own, makes me profoundly grateful for the deep friendships I do have. I am rich beyond measure, and Don's friendship is one of my crown jewels.
At the same time, momentarily sweeping away the trivia in my life has forced me to confront the profusion of trivia and, in its absence, the lack of much else. Why do I so consistently occupy my time with so many things that are so trivial? Why don't I spend more time on the things that really matter?
Yesterday I read a poem called Beannacht, which means blessing, by John O'Donahue. It had been sent to me by Travis. It had been sent to Travis and "the good folks at The Work Of The People" as a blessing and encouragement. I received only the content, so I don't know who sent it or from where.
This morning I read Beannacht from the inbox of my iPhone as I sat in an obstinately pragmatic chair which sat in a hospital room adorned in the morose and blinking effluvia of modern healing. Between me and the window, my friend's bed. In the bed my good friend, a pastor who's visited countless people at the end of various ropes, and now lying flat on his back, perhaps at the end of his. The out look, not as dire as it could be, but all expectations and plans suddenly vapour.
How unexpected. How odd, this embodied life.
I want to share the poem here, sent by someone I don't know, but who I now consider a brother.
The words travelled from the poet, to the unnamed stranger-brother, across the ocean to Travis in his home in Houston, to me in my home in Vancouver and now to Don in a hospital bed. And through this tenuous and unlikely thread, poetry speaks.
Beannacht
On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss gets into you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.
when the canvas frays
in the curach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.
May the noursihment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the the protection of the anscestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.
===================
Here is a video of John O'Donahue reading Beannacht.
[Don's going to be fine by the way. They did a CAT scan and there's no danger, just pain, like cracked ribs. Hopefully no chronic damage.]
- Steve Frost
A simple question and I instantly knew something was wrong. Don is a dear friend, one of my best friends. My mind lurched to worse case scenario. He's gone. My blood turned to ice. The depth and speed of the impact was shocking. It lasted maybe half a second as my wife completed her sentence, "He's okay, he had a biking accident and he's in the hospital with cracked vertebrae."
Relief.
Really? Relief? My friend is in the hospital with cracked vertebrae and I'm relieved? Yep, the half second dance with monumental loss was frightening enough to make anything else seem a relief.
But the half second was clarifying. It swept away the trivial and left only who and what is important. Today Don told me he experienced the same thing on the other side of the equation. Apparently, as one lies in pain waiting to hear if everything is all right, it's one's deepest connections which come immediately to mind.
This fleeting brush with my friend's mortality, and thus my own, makes me profoundly grateful for the deep friendships I do have. I am rich beyond measure, and Don's friendship is one of my crown jewels.
At the same time, momentarily sweeping away the trivia in my life has forced me to confront the profusion of trivia and, in its absence, the lack of much else. Why do I so consistently occupy my time with so many things that are so trivial? Why don't I spend more time on the things that really matter?
Yesterday I read a poem called Beannacht, which means blessing, by John O'Donahue. It had been sent to me by Travis. It had been sent to Travis and "the good folks at The Work Of The People" as a blessing and encouragement. I received only the content, so I don't know who sent it or from where.
This morning I read Beannacht from the inbox of my iPhone as I sat in an obstinately pragmatic chair which sat in a hospital room adorned in the morose and blinking effluvia of modern healing. Between me and the window, my friend's bed. In the bed my good friend, a pastor who's visited countless people at the end of various ropes, and now lying flat on his back, perhaps at the end of his. The out look, not as dire as it could be, but all expectations and plans suddenly vapour.
How unexpected. How odd, this embodied life.
I want to share the poem here, sent by someone I don't know, but who I now consider a brother.
The words travelled from the poet, to the unnamed stranger-brother, across the ocean to Travis in his home in Houston, to me in my home in Vancouver and now to Don in a hospital bed. And through this tenuous and unlikely thread, poetry speaks.
Beannacht
On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss gets into you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.
when the canvas frays
in the curach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.
May the noursihment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the the protection of the anscestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.
===================
Here is a video of John O'Donahue reading Beannacht.
[Don's going to be fine by the way. They did a CAT scan and there's no danger, just pain, like cracked ribs. Hopefully no chronic damage.]
- Steve Frost
Good Ole Life-Saving Resurrections
Half my community got baptized in the Brazo River this past weekend...beautiful...still seems supernatural to me...This is Sondays, a diverse community made up of broken people that are learning that being at the end of their rope is the easiest access to surrender. Even though some are mentally impaired, addicted, and shunned from the system of the world, they came together believing that not only was Jesus resurrected, but He is in the process of resurrecting everything right now....emotionally, mentally, spiritually. "If you lose your life, you will find your life." Music by the gatlin Elms band. gatlinelms.com.
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