Basin & Towel

Well, we’ve talked about it and now here we are… a group blog. These are the voyages of a small band of borderline nut-cases in Winnipeg attempting to live missionally, intentionally knitting our lives together as a community. We’ve been at this since (roughly) January of 2005, but some of us have known each other for something approaching 20 years now.

Some of us — or most of us — have become disillusioned with institutional church in its attractional mode and are exploring new modes of expressing our faith. Some of us are living out what has elsewhere been called “a churchless faith” while others remain an occasional part of other church congregations.

These pages tell our story as it unfolds.

Yesterday we met W&J at The Elephant & Castle for dinner, after which we all headed over to Hear the Silence at St. Benedict’s Table. I felt we rushed in a little to SBT’s Hear the Silence, but we were on time, not late. It’s at this point that I will remind you that there’s a second Hear the Silence planned for December 3rd, and I highly recommend it… I quite enjoyed myself, and thought I would share a three-part table reflection on the evening.

The Table: Food
I took a good hard look at the Jameson’s Chicken but opted for the Guinness Meatloaf instead. Those Irish seem to know just the right “special” ingredients to use… ;^) I think I made the right choice. The meatloaf was superb, with a wonderful sauce on the side. A pleasant amount of spice offset by the sweetness imbued by the special ingredient, itself fueled by its own special sweet ingredient, molasses. Now, I am a Guinness drinker & this much is no mystery. Guinness has a special “weightiness” to it, paired with its own sweetness and rightly poured, a beautiful head to top it off. Guinness is savoured, a wonderful mix of weightiness and sweetness that just slides down smoothly, leaving you a silky pleasant aftertaste that says, “I was here” but it does so without attacking the palatte with a “HEY-HOWAREYA?” announcement that screams out its presence as soon as it passes your lips. The Guinness meatloaf compared nicely. This was capped with a very nice apple crumble with ice cream and a good cup of coffee. A good cup of coffee is worth a special mention in most restaurants, and this was such a cup. I was filled to the measure of, “a nice quiet nap on the sofa would be really great about now.”

The Table: Conversation
The company and the conversation was very enjoyable as well… we all remarked trying to remember the last time we’d been out for supper sans kids, but to boot, we haven’t been out together in such a setting in eons, perhaps if ever. I love the feeling of togetherness, camaradarie, and identification that comes from visiting with friends who are largely in the same space as you are. There’s a sweetness from this kind of visiting and sharing of hearts, and this too is filling, leaving a pleasant aftertaste. Times like these make me deeply thankful for having moved on from our CLB and discovered the depth of some of the existing friendships that took deeper root and the new ones that sprang up around us as we began to create community. I was filled to the measure of “we are deeply blessed with the highest calibre of friends.”

The Table: Worship
The room was dark, even for SBT, and the group was small. Precious little was said, and silence was maintained during everyone’s coming and going from the space. The liturgy consisted of two readings (some responsive), songs, and silence… all in proper proportions. Like many of the songs at SBT, each was somewhat repetative. Now, I know that some are really down on repetative songs, but the spirit of these ones must be appreciated… these songs are somewhat folksy, somewhat reverent, and largely from the heart. As these songs are sung and repeated, they work their way into the depths of your soul, and you really feel that they become the cries of your heart to God. It feels that invariably they seem to conclude almost too early yet in just about the right space. For this particular service, times of silence punctuated the space between the songs. Not long, drawn-out, “is-anyone-going-to-say-something?” silence, but pleasant, breathing, feeling, settling silence. Sinking-into-your-heart silence. Cathartic silence. A kind of spiritual taking-it-all-in silence. It was particularly sweet, and particularly filling… the kind of sweet that you think maybe you’ve really never tasted before. The kind of filling that once you’re finished taking it in, you feel almost immobile. Of course I’ve been in some pretty powerful worship times in my day, and had some experiences of God’s presence far beyond what I deserve… but this was different, so restful, peaceful, and powerful. I was filled to the measure of “God, I feel your presence here profoundly, and I don’t particularly want to move. Ever.”

Needless to say, I had a fine, filling evening yesterday. Threefold.

Update: Jamie Howison has posted some reflections on this as well; sounds like Sunday evening was a good time too, sorry I missed it (did anyone else go?)… but just to bring it all full-circle, it ends up at none other than the E&C. btw, the lyrics for the communion song that Jamie quotes are worth clicking through.

I’ve started thinking about Advent season, which is upon us as of this coming Sunday. Seems early, but it’s like that every year. Odd how we react against how early Christmas arrives in the malls, hot on the heels of Halloween, but we who should want to celebrate it most hold off until the last minute. This is one of the things I like about the liturgical calendar… it begins the new year with Advent, which is about as fitting as I could imagine. I also like the fact that it pushes us into preparation for Christmas… but with referenct to the entire season, and not just the one-day event (or two or three days, depending how many family events are scheduled!).

I started compiling some thoughts on Advent this year, thinking about some things we could do with the kids but which would also draw our hardened adult hearts into it as well. Scot McKnight is blogging an Advent series and has put forth the first post today… more to follow daily in the series (except Sundays), and some other bloggers will likely be chipping in as well.

I’m looking forward to following this series as well as to some study centered on Advent themes as we attempt to establish some deeper Christmas traditions in our family and in our little community. If anyone’s got ideas or resources to recommend, I’m all ears.

So here I am. In some ways under duress. I have a love/ hate relationship with blogging and I haven’t even started yet. Part of it I know is because I’ve so enjoyed how articulate so many bloggers are as they relate their stories and I’m not sure I could articulate my way out of a wet paper bag. But one thing I know is that I am perfectly ordinary and that there are other perfectly ordinary people out there who may be encouraged by my fumbling around. Maybe my comfort with my imperfectness will make someone else comfortable with their imperfectness and they’ll give themselves permission to try too.

One of the things I’ve appreciated about the emerging conversation (or whatever you want to call it) is that everyone gets to play. There are no benches, no one required to sit out if they are willing to participate. Recently as I was thinking about my resistance to blogging I realized that although I’m not a complete slouch in the thinking department, I’m no Brother Maynard or Robby Mac or Jamie Arpin-Ricci or Grey Owl (to name a few Canadians). But that’s okay. I’ve been known as missionalchickie for a reason. I think my strengths lie in being a practitioner of my faith. (Not to say the above folks aren’t, they do both).

So I guess that’s what I’m offering blogdom. No deep theology (oh how I appreciate the depths some of you go to - I glean so much from your insights and my life is the richer for them) but rubber meets the road practical stories and insights gleaned from walking along the road trying to be like Jesus the best I know how. He’s been amazing in my life. Through the good and the bad, ever faithful, always loving (even when I was not particularly happy with Him).

I’ve been known as missionalchickie but you can call me Di (short for Dianna). I’m abandoning the psuedonym because although I initially loved the word “missional” (I was so disillusioned with the word “evangelism”) I’m not fond of it as a label for me as a person.

(mount soapbox)

I would hate for any one of my friends to ever get the hint of a smell of agenda in me for their lives except for my committment to love them regardless of their spiritual choices. Do I want all my friends to know Jesus? Of course. Can I make it happen? Of course not. Only Jesus can make that happen. All I can do is love tham like he does. Unconditionally.

I would hate if I found out that one of my best friends who is a committed Bahai is only my friend so I would embrace Bahaullah as the most recent manifestation of God. I’d feel targeted and manipulated and somehow less loved. Why shouldn’t people of other spiritualities feel the same from pariah-like Christians? Am I attempting to live missionally? Yes. Is my mission people? No. My mission is to live and laugh and love like Jesus and with Jesus. If people want to follow Him because of something they’ve seen in me, great, but they aren’t my target. Hopefully they are simply the recipients of His love through me. Does that make sense?

(soapbox dismount)

So there we go. I’m Di and I’m a recovering church addict (Hi Di - in chorus). I’m married to a wonderful man, have three amazing kids (6yrs., 4yrs. and 2 yrs.) and a puppy. I have the privilege of journeying along with a great group of people who inspire me to honesty and thoughtful living. I don’t know how often I will be able to post but I’m committed to trying.

See you along the road,
Di

So, here we are exploring the boundaries of our faith. Are we the bleeding edge or the lunatic fringe?

Just in case the last day or two you’ve felt like all has not been right in the universe, I think I may know why. Jesus has been in time out. Apparently the Jesus in our nativity hit my two year old, so he informed me that he put Jesus in time out. And it ’s a long one. At the end of day two and there’s no sign of parole for the Savior of the world. He gets his theology from his dad… 

Makes me think of when my daughter was three (she’s six now) and we were approaching Christmas. Clever girl that she is, she had figured out that a successful way to extend bedtime was to ask theological questions. So she asked, "How big is God?" Flippantly I replied, "So big. Bigger than me, bigger than Daddy, bigger than our house, bigger than the world." (How do you accurately answer that one?) Anyway, my girl was silent. Thoughtful. Then she said, "I think I like Jesus better than God." Curious of course, I asked why, "Because He’s my size." Now I am silent. Thoughtful. 

She had no idea the depth of truth in her words. She, in her wonderfully childlike way, had summed up the Incarnation. I love it. And I love Him. I love Him for willingly entering this world so that we would know that He knows from first hand experience what it’s like to be us. I can never say in the midst of one of my inevitable temper tantrums, "But He just doesn’t understand!" He does, and I find comfort and hope in that. 

So it’s the new year now, and I’m thinkin’ about resolutions. I’m also reflecting on the past year… some people in the emerging church blogosphere are quite happy that the year is done and gone, having not had a very happy 2005 I guess. Not so for me… 2005 was not an easy year, but I would say I’m standing on a much better piece of figurative turf today than I was a year ago.

A year ago, we were thinking about leaving the church we were in… now our CLB. I’m happy about that, despite the years of effort we put into building it. Now we’re “churchless” in a sense, and I’m happy about that too… understanding that when I say “churchless” I mean we don’t regularly attend an institution called “church” in a building called “a church” …it does not mean we’re Godless or faith-communityless. Anything but, and I’m happy about that.

A year ago, we began gathering together, just a few of us getting together in a kind of common spiritual interest, which has now grown into “a thing.” I mean, everybody says it’s a “thing” regardless what we call it or think of it. I would say that we’re definitely building community with one another, and I’m happy about that.

A year ago, we were just deciding to sell our house and move into a different part of the city. This has not taken place (at least not yet), and I still haven’t figured out how I feel about that.

A year ago, I was just becoming acquainted with the emerging church conversation and with missional ideas as other people had described them… but found in both the resonance of years of disquiet within me, and I’m happy about that.

A lot has happened in the past year, and on the whole, it’s positive stuff. So this is January of a new year (naturally, since the calendar only comes in one order) and it’s one of the two times in the year when we tend to take stock a little bit and make any mid-term course corrections that we deem appropriate. Some people call those new years’ resolutions, but I think I’m with Brother Maynard on that one, not making any highfalutin’ resolutions, except resolving to hope, and to try. What he’s written there also has me thinking about the nature of lasting change, and what it takes to achieve it… but nailing that one down will take some amount of further pondering.

On the other hand, Randy McRoberts is making resolutions… seven of them, in fact. Oddly enough, and two of them are covered in the upper right corner of this page… living by the Jesus Creed and living by Brother Maynard’s dictum. (Brother Maynard’s little motto has never really been called a “dictum” before, but he tells me he’s honoured, and happy about it.) These are two good resolutions to make, I think. Two general ways of trying to live that could just change your life. Perhaps that’s the path to lasting change… consciously living by a principle that infoms all of your other actions.

Maybe if the Pharisees had been able to boil it down like Jesus did instead of trying to live by an endless interpretation of an endless set of rules, they’d have done much better. Yeah, “perhaps.” And perhaps this is why I’m happier to hope and to try to live a certain way rather than creating a personal list of do’s and don’ts to run with, a kind of personal pass/fail list, just because it’s a new year. The do’s and don’ts on the list seem so goal-oriented, whereas the alternative of hoping and trying seems so much more journey-oriented. Oriented. Like simply trying to stay pointed in the right direction, and keep moving forward… not a bad “goal” at all, I say.

I like the pace of hoping and trying… I think I find a kind of simple peace in it. And I’m happy about that.

Actually, we didn’t go anywhere, but the site was down for a while.  Okay, a couple of months… after migrating to new server hardware, the necessary troubleshooting to bring the site back up sat on the shelf for a while.  We now return to our regularly-scheduled blog.

Despite the apparent dormancy of this blog, we’ve been continuing to meet as a rag-tag loosely-affiliated bunch.  This past weekend we held our first-ever planning meeting to discuss future direction, rather than simply tack it on to one of our regular gatherings.  It looks like we’ll be taking the whole thing up a notch, doing fortnightly gatherings for the adults as we have been, but adding fortnightly gatherings that involve kids on the alternate weekends.  If you’re counting, that’s something every weekend now.  That may be a bit much for for some of me us, but we’ll see how it goes.  In essence, we’re taking the intentionality up to a greater level and will be paying attention to the Holy Spirit to see where we go from here as a faith community.