Let's Get Rid of Church

Our pastor gave a sermon recently centered around some reading he'd done about why the younger generation (from my viewpoint, almost everybody younger than me fits into that!) like Jesus but hates the church.

If the research he read is true -- then Gen Y, Gen X -- are fine with the Gospel (as they understand it) but not too happy with the institution of the church.

This struck me as a wonderful "marketing" opportunity for us Convergent Quakers. Except, we (all Quakers not just the Convergent types) if not adverse to advertising our existence, are not very good at it.

Which is understandable at one level -- how do you capture on a billboard or bumper sticker a spiritual experience as deep as Quakerism offers?

This made me think that one small step might be by undoing a name change that many Friends adopted in the 19th and early 20th century -- the name "Church." As in Podunk Friends Church.

If Gen Y et al like Jesus but don't like the church -- let's get rid of the "church."

By that I mean the name on the front of many a Friend's congregational edifice. Let's drop Podunk Friends Church and go by Podunk Friends Meeting -- and alert the local media to why we're changing our names.

Name changes are all the rage in mega-congregations and those who want to be -- just in our county alone we've got things like Connection Pointe, LifeWay, and all sorts of things that used to Podunk Christian Church or Southern Baptist of Podunk or ...

So let's go back to Meeting and invite folks to Meeting. For one it sounds a bit more hospitable than church. We could emphasize that what we mean by meeting is "gathering" -- we're getting together for worship.

And then we invite people to the second meaning of meeting -- encounter. We come to meet other like-hearted people. People searching for the sacred. Some having found more than others, some of us just learning the way or beginning to think about the Divine seriously.

I say like-hearted, notice, and not like-minded. We don't all have to think alike -- which is a good thing, since few of us do. Sometimes I'm of two minds about things all on my own!

Besides meeting other like-hearted people, we come to meet God. To encounter the Divine. Not just to be told about the divine through story, sermon, song, and silence, but to actually gaze into the face of our loving God and listen for God's words to our souls. What more winsome invitation could there be than, "If you like Jesus, but not the church, then come with us -- come to Meeting and meeting."

--Brent

Emergent, Convergent, or Divergent -- What About Quakers?

Nancy and I attended a meeting a few months ago with about 60 other Friends from three yearly meetings. I thought we had gathered to discuss the desire of forming an association of progressive Friends -- primarily for sharing worship and discussion.

Instead it became largely a time to talk about various issues that various Friends were interested in -- prison ministry, being open and affirming of gays, national legislation, and so on. All things, it seemed to me, that were already being undertaken and accomplished by other active Friends organizations.

I understand that the group is still meeting and still sorting out what it is called to be. And hooray for them -- taking time to let a leading season seems to be perfectly in keeping with our testimonies concerning discernment.

But as I thought about that meeting today, I came to the conclusion, based on what I heard at that meeting, my work as a congregational consultant, a writer of Quaker spirituality, and our own little experiment with the Friends in Fellowship group, is that much of what I would hope from such a group is underway in the convergent Friends movement.

While I may not be strictly Convergent (I'm still not certain that I fit (or understand) the definition exactly), the convergent Friends movement is, it seems to me, the Quaker version of the emergent church movement. I find a lot of vitality in the Emergent movement – a group, according to their own words, “is a growing, generative friendship among missional Christians seeking to love our world in the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” (Emergent Village). They also say that they are about

• “Growing”: which indicates our desire to develop as the dreams of God for the healing, redemption, and reconciliation of the world develop.
• “Generative”: which means that we expect our friendship to generate new ideas, connections, opportunities, and works of beauty.
• “Friendship”: Because we firmly hold that living in reconciled friendship trumps traditional orthodoxies – indeed, orthodoxy requires reconciliation as a prerequisite.
• “Missional”: Because we believe that the call of the gospel is an outward, apostolic call into the world.

Why I think the convergent Friends movement (and indeed much of vital Quakerism outside of the convergent movement) has much to offer is that it embraces the above all within the context of the rich diversity of Quaker faith and practice.

I like the idea behind the word “convergent” – one definition of which is ”tending to come together from different directions.” I am concerned that there be places for theological hospitality and deep discussion about Friends testimonies and their applicability in today’s world.

I don’t think that developing another group of “like-minded” Friends is going to be very helpful to us. That would seem to me to be “divergent.” I know what I cherish are rich times of worship across “lines.” What feeds my soul is when whatever dialogue growing out of that worship is done with respect and caring – me listening and learning from my Evangelical brothers and sisters, my more mystical brothers and sisters, my liberal brothers and sisters and letting Christ teach me through all of them.I don’t think convergent Friends is the final answer for all Friends in all circumstances.

I do think it has a lot to offer to those of us inside Friends who long for places of deep spiritual engagement (and all that means) and those outside of Friends who hear about us and wonder where to connect with a people who seek to be known as the Friends of God in an open and welcoming way.

--Brent

PS I"m still willing to try an organize a "Convergent Friends" conversation at "The Great Emergence" if there's any interest.

Convergent Friends -- And the Great Emergence

A group of us Quaker blogger types have taken up the idea that this October is Convergent Month 2008. What it means is we’re inviting Convergent Friends -- and Friends interested in the Convergent movement -- to make a concentrated effort to dream, discuss, and have loads of fun thinking about where Friends are and what the Future of Friends might be.

Since there are all sorts of things planned specifically for Friends, (check the Convergent Friends site at http://convergentfriends.org/2008/09/15/announcing-covergent-october-2008/ for blog rolls and activities), I want to announce one that is open to a wider audience, but still has a lot of interest for Convergent Friends. It is "The Great Emergence" in Memphis on December 5-6, 2008.

The title comes from Phyllis Tickle's new book. She says, "The Great Emergence' refers to a monumental phenomenon in our world, and this book asks three questions about it. Or looked at the other way around, this book is about a monumental phenomenon considered from the perspective of three very basic questions: What is this thing? How did it come to be? Where is it going?”

Phyllis's important new book, The Great Emergence: How Christianity Is Changing and Why. focuses her encyclopedic knowledge of American religion on the current shifts in the Christian landscape. Paired with her Southern wit and charm, The Great Emergence promises to be the bellwether book in emerging Christianity.

The Great Emergence National Event is a unique and freshly designed event built on innovative adult learning techniques including interaction, participation, and inspiring content on the current state of and future possibilities for Christianity.

Around the four main sessions with Phyllis Tickle, participants will also enjoy the daily office—thrice daily times of prayer—based on Phyllis Tickle’s bestselling book, The Divine Hours, in the majestic and historic Cathedral of St. Mary in Memphis, Tennessee, which will be bedecked with Advent greenery.

Workshops will be offered with some of the best practitioners of emerging Christianity, including Tony Jones,

Doug Pagitt,

Peter Rollins

Lisa & Will Samson,

Joseph Myers,

Tim Keel,

Sybil MacBeth

and more (including me -- but that's not why I'm "plugging" this event. I'd go anyhoo.).

On the day before "The Great Emergence" (the 4th) various hypen-emergent groups are meeting (Presby-mergents, etc). If there are enough Convergents or other interested Friends going, we could set up our own gathering that day. I'd be happy to try to pull something together -- a time of dialogue -- if there's enough interest.

Check out "The Great Emergence" at http://www.thegreatemergence.com/node/13 And be sure to read The Great Emergence by Phyllis Tickle. She says some interesting things about the role of Quakers in this new movement.

Hope to see you there.

-- Brent

"We're not in Indiana anymore, Toto..."

My apologies to Dorothy. But that's how I felt when I woke up to the sound of shotguns going off this morning. Not that I don't hear shotguns in Hoosierland. I do. Fairly frequently at this time of year. But I live on 50 acres of land surrounded by lots of other acres of land -- cropland, woods, lakes, creeks. This morning in Texas I awoke to the sound of shotguns going off while ensconced in bed in my sister's house in a subdivision in Frisco. Surrounded by houses.

"Dove hunting," my brother-in-law reported. Hmmm, at least it wasn't Texas justice gone amok -- posses of cowboys gunning down rustlers.

Actually, haven't seen any cowboys yet. Lots and lots of houses and shopping malls and the like. But no cowboys. Must have moved from Dallas.

The best thing I've seen so far is the sign above. That was at the new Frisco Senior Center. A lovely facility open to people my age (55+) though I do not consider myself a senior. And old boomer, but not a senior! My sister and her husband gave us a tour and it is really quite nice. But I had to chuckle when I saw the sign advertising "Senior Kick-boxing."

Now this is probably a nice form of exercise, but all I could think of was a bunch of grey haired or bald old geezers like me flailing the legs around an panting like a winded cow pony just off the range trying to defend themselves. "Watch out, young 'un. I'm a certified senior kick boxer and these spindly limbs are deadly weapons." Yeah, to me! I'd try to kick box something, break a hip, fall down and die.

What's next I wondered? "Senior Cage Fighting?" Would give "A Grudge Match to the Death" a whole new meaning....

--Brent

Sin Boldly: A Field Guide to Grace

I just finished a book that I found simply stunning. It was well written, thoughtful, helpful, encouraging, challenging, and hopeful. It's Cathleen Falsani's Sin Boldly: A Field Guide To Grace.

I had a feeling it would be a good read. After all, Falsani authored another book I really enjoyed (The God Factor: Inside the Private Lives of Public People). So even though I got my copy of Sin Boldly a while ago, I put it aside until I had time to really read it with the attention it deserved. And I'm happy I did.

This "field guide to grace" is exactly that -- a pilgrim's guide to see God's grace in and around us and others and our world. There were many little gems that I highlighted - her thoughts, the epigrams, and quotations. It was a book that became a friend and one which I highly recommend to those who aren't afraid of finding God in all the right places.

--Brent

Of Sunflowers and Souls

Light. Without it we die. Physically. Spiritually. Our very lives depend light for photosynthesis -- energy from sunlight that converts into adenosine triphosphate (ATP), the fuel used by all living things. That’s why sunflowers track the sun across the sky, sea otters bask while floating in the ocean, and I look for an excuse to go to Florida in January. All God’s creatures move toward the light – flowers, trees, people. Light is constant and ever present. At least that’s what we assume. Then the power goes out or a month of clouds rolls in. We grumble and moan and whine until the light comes back. Here's a reading on that subject from Mind the Light: Learning to See with Spiritual Eyes.

If you'd like to subscribe to these podcasts via i-Tunes, sign up for itpc://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/bGkY

Download this episode: http://www.brentbill.com/01SunflowersandSouls.mp3

Enjoy--
Brent

Happiness & The Good Life

Happiness -- I've been thinking about it a lot lately. The political season probably has a lot to do with it -- since each party is promising me I'll be happy and better off if I vote for its candidates. Yeah, and my teeth will be brighter and shirts whiter, too.

Then there's news from a recent survey. It revealed that the United States was out-happied by Nigeria. That despite our per capita income being seventh in the world and Nigerians making an average of $520. Per year.

Besides Nigeria, we’re beat out by Mexico, Venezuela, El Salvador, and Puerto Rico. Hardly a group we consumerists would even think of as our competition.

The good news is we beat out Romania.

We may be proving that the old joke “Money can’t buy happiness, but it allows you to be miserable in style,” is more than a joke. It’s the truth. For all the material things we have, many of us sense that we are lacking something. Something important. Something inside. The upside is that this sense of a deep interior helps us realize that the good life is more than having things. The good life is one of soul satisfaction.

But how do we find it?

One way is, I think, by doing some reordering of our lives around four basic ideas.

The first is that the good life is about following God. While this may seem obvious, it one of those things that is so obvious that we often forget it. We need to ignore the artificial division between sacred and secular move through life while inviting God to be involved in every part of it.

Second, we need to remember that God’s will can be known and obeyed. As we learn God’s will, and obey it, we soon learn that we are participating, with other people of faith, in God’s work in this world. The good life calls us to partner with God in doing Divine work in this world.

A third idea is that following God leads to a life that is balanced and deeply satisfying. This is not to say that life is always happy and filled with all sorts of good things and pleasant experiences. Rather it means that following God in the daily divine dance of life provides a soul satisfaction and sense of rightness. This rightness brings balance to our lives.

The fourth thing is that the good life is also about being good. About being honest, care-full of others, actually behaving in ways we know would be pleasing to God. Much of the good life, they found, comes about by asking God to worth with them in thinking about and going those things that are true, noble, right, pure, and lovely. The actions that come easily, drawn as they are from a heart of love for God and God’s people. Actions that come from the desire to please the Great Lover of Our Souls, in the same way we delight to please the people we love here on earth.

All of these lead us to the good life -- a life of true happiness. Beyond party and polls, beyond things and into some thing deep and rich and life-giving. The hard part is putting them into practice daily. Which leads to a fifth lesson I guess -- the good life is about total dependence on God, without whose strength we can do nothing.

-- Brent

Clark Rockefeller -- Model Quaker?

Well, they say there's not such thing as bad publicity, but... when I heard that "Clark Rockefeller" claimed to be a Quaker, that, to me, proved that cliche' false. This is the guy that abducted his 7 year old daughter off a Boston street and then eluded a massive manhunt while hiding out in the Baltimore area.

Sounds very Quakerly to me. Kidnapping. Hiding. Lying. I don't' think those exactly fit the Quaker testimonies of peace-making, truth-telling, or much of anything else, for that matter.

But then, of course (because I do think too much), I began wondering about other bad Quaker apples -- John Dillinger and Richard Nixon come to mind. And some of the "good" ones were odd ducks, too. Like James Nayler -- led into Bristol astride an ass with women shouting "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord." Or George Fox with his reputation of confronting Puritan preachers. Or Brent Bill who often doesn't live up to the testimonies as he should.

So I guess I should cut old Clark a break. After all, there's only been one person who lived up to our ideals -- "What a Friend we have in Jesus."

-- Brent

Jesus Laughed

Jesus, Moses, and Confucius walk into a bar...

Well, maybe that's not a real good way to start a blog about the redemptive power of humor. Or a good way to start a book about it either. Which, to his literary credit, Robert Darden didn't in his new book Jesus Laughed: The Redemptive Power of Humor. But it might have made for a better book if he had.

I really wanted to like Jesus Laughed. After all, religious humor in its many forms is one of my favorite things. I worked with Stan Banker on the two QuakerLite books, wrote a whole series of light humor and devotions for kids (Lunch is My Favorite Subject, et al), and regularly visit Ship of Fools, Lark News, and, of course, The Wittenburg Door (where Darden is senior editor). And I did like the book. I just didn't love it.

The parts I liked -- not unexpectedly -- were the funny/ironic asides that he called "Digressions," the Quaker joke that appears early on (though it doesn't have the "complete" punch line I've always heard), and references to well known Quaker funny man, Elton Trueblood. Okay, so Elton's not really known as a funny man, but he did write the The Humor of Christ, which Darden notes and uses well.

Darden's exposition on humor and religion -- including in the Bible -- is first rate, but... well, writing humor is hard work and writing about humor is even harder. Examining humor just isn't very funny. I read this book with a more serious expression on my face than usual. I know that because Nancy asked me one time what I was reading and I told her it was a book on humor and religion. "Can't tell from your face," she said. "Where's the humor?" Indeed. There just wasn't a lot of joy in this book, from my standpoint. I much prefer Howard Macy's Laughing Pilgrims or Tom Mullen's Laughing Out Loud and Other Religious Experiences.

So, would I recommend Jesus Laughed? Yes, it has much good thinking. Just don't get it expecting to burst out laughing as you make your way through it. This book, I think would be best for folks who see little humor in faith, rather than those of us know that Jesus did indeed laugh.

-- Brent

To The Left of Elias Hicks

... that's what I found out I was whilst "e-talking" to my friend Haven Kimmel (who's new novel Iodine is a must read). She pointed out that while looking up Jessamyn West's entry on Wikipedia she was led to "American Quakers" and said laughing, "Look! In this column is my buddy Brent, and right across from him is Elias Hicks!"

Of course I wanted to know if I was on the right or left of Hicks and Haven kindly pointed out that I was on the left. I loved it (though I doubt that Elias or my Evangelical Quaker grandmother do) -- a "pastorized" Quaker (as my college prof T. Canby Jones called me) to the left of the namesake of the liberal Friends movement.

Of course, that set me to wonderin' (I often go a'wonderin') where I was in relation to other folks? To the right of Jesus ... or left? To the left of Moses or the right? To the right of Teddy Roosevelt ... wait, that couldn't be!

Then I got to thinking how unhelpful those designations were. Left, right, liberal, conservative -- compared to what? What's the standard? And who gets to set it? I have a sneaky suspicion that the standard-setters are not people I'd find particularly trustworthy -- using their biases to set the "norm" (as if I wouldn't!).

So I finally decided, I am neither left nor right of anybody. I am just who I am -- someone who's trying to follow the way of Jesus the best he knows how to. That's about all I can manage.

-- Brent

PS But I still love being left of Hicks!

Is a Meme as Annoying as a Mime?

I'm not sure. But I'm sure to find out. My friend and fellow blogger Shawna "meme'd" me and so I'm trying the same thing back at her -- and including you. I looked up “meme” in Wikipedia, and got completely and totally lost. So I reread Shawna's post and thought, well, maybe I can do this and so, here goes....

Meme "rules:"

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.

2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.

3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.

4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

5. Present an image of martial discord (as in "war," not as in "marriage") from whatever period or situation you’d like.

Just the Brently Facts
1. I do some of my writing (the thinking/plotting parts) while driving my John Deere and mowing

2. Brent is not my first name and Bill is not "short" for anything longer (like Billheimer or Billski), it's just plain Bill.

3. I went to five different colleges to get my four year degree and two seminaries to get my masters.

4. One of my pastoral predecessors at Friends Memorial Church was Daisy Douglas Barr, a recruiter for the women's division of the Ku Klux Klan. Her picture hangs right above mine in the FMC pastor's hall of shame (my name for it) -- reminding people that no matter how bad a pastor I was, at least I didn't belong to the KKK.

5. I appeared on television as a child with "Flippo, the King of the Clowns" (Columbus, Ohio, WBNS-TV, channel 10). Clowns have freaked me out ever since.

6. There is a guy named Bill Brent who writes gay/bi-erotica. I am not him!

7. I drive a 1955 MG TF1500 that I first drove in high school. It was owned by the fellow I was named for (Brent Stephens) and now has a whopping 25,000 miles on it.

Tag:
I tag Haven, Peggy, Wess, Aaron, Doug, Leah, and Martin. If memes annoy you, blame Shawna!

Martial Discord:

My image of martial discord is by Picasso -- it still moves me after years of seeing it.

Of Pioneering Quakers

Western Yearly Meeting's annual sessions are wrapping up this afternoon. I've attended sporadically. I especially enjoyed Tom Hamm's "Quaker Lecture" and John Punshon's Firstday message, along with Max Carter's morning "Bible Hours."

In one of his Bible Hour talks, Max spoke of Alan Jay, a Hoosier Quaker of the 19th century, who once asked the question, "How can we save our young people for the Friends' church?" A worthy question then -- and now -- and one that sparked a good deal of speaking from the silence that morning. As one Friend noted, even if we wanted to keep them Friends, what do we do when they move to towns where there is no Friends church?

That's true for members of Nancy's and my family. As careers have moved them around the country, they have often lived in places where there was no Friends congregation.

Which set me to thinking -- as most things do these days. Perhaps, just perhaps, part of the answer to that lies in inculcating passions for the Friends understanding of the gospel and testimonies along with a pioneering spirit. After all, as we were frequently reminded this yearly meeting, 150 years ago when Friends came to this part of Indiana, there were no Friends churches -- until they established them.

Now we Gurneyite, Orthodox Friends have fallen into the trap of thinking of the "church" as being the building. Friends General Conference Quakers have been much more comfortable with the idea of people setting up Friends groups whereever they settled. They even have a book about how to do so. But we move, don't see a Friends church listed in the yellow pages, and look for some other church to join.

What would it be like to train and equip our young people (and some of us older ones!) to set up Friends worship groups wherever they move? On college campuses? In the towns of their first job? Or third job?

In this day of blogs, facebook, MySpace, et al it should be easy enough to connect with Friends in new areas. Is it time to put together a "How To ..." start your own Friends worship group for us more Orthodox Friends? Could we do it with out pastors? Or a building?

I think we can -- and that it would be a good thing.

What thinkest thee?

-- Brent

The Chick Magnet & Wildlife

I ran out of gas today. Well, not me, my mower. So I loaded up the gas cans in the Chick Magnet and headed to town. "The Chick Magnet" is the name of our old farm truck (tri-owned by me w/ two other guys). It's a 1990 Chevy S-10 with tinted windows, alarm system, chromed wheels, honkin' stereo and a bunch of other stuff. It's also got painting peeling off, rust everywhere, some major dents in the bed, and a host of bumper stickers holding the tailgate together ("You can no more win a war than you can an earthquake;" "Genuine VW Parts, Dude;" "I love Old Baldy," and more). You know it's a farm truck because you have know certain tricks about it -- like the keys aren't really necessary most of the time, the doors have to be closed a certain way if you want them to latch, the mud in the wheel wells is from 4 different fields, and stuff like that.

As a farm truck, it doesn't get driven all the time. Mostly to haul wood from a field after splitting or running to the hardware store for parts -- that sort of thing.

Anyhoo, I loaded it up and headed to town. When I got out at the gas station, I heard a strange buzzing. Loud. I started filling the gas cans and could still here the buzzing. Joined by a bird chirping at me from somewhere. I looked around the canopy over me for the bird and didn't see it. Then I decided to put some gas in the Chick Magnet. I opened the door covering the gas cap and the source of the buzzing was revealed -- a bunch of angry wasps swarmed out. As did I -- swarmed out of the neighborhood of the gas tank. After most of them dispersed, I went back and saw they had built a next right on top of the gas cap. No wonder they were buzzing -- they'd just taken a five mile trip in a beat up old truck. So I cleared them out, got gas and headed home.

When I got home and shut off the truck, I heard that bird again. Loud. Inside the truck. Remember what I said about shutting the doors just right? Well, somehow a birdie had built a nest inside the truck. Up inside the heater. Which explained why the air conditioning didn't seem to be putting out much air. So I opened the doors and I think the bird flew away whilst I finished mowing.

The oil needs changed in the Chick Magnet -- but I'll tell ya, I'm really a-scared to open the hood! Maybe a bobcat living in there.

I gotta drive that truck more often.

--Brent

On the Annoying Truth of True Believers

Nancy and I went to the mountain to hear Jesus yesterday. Well, not actually Jesus, but He's who I thought of by the end of the evening -- Him and one of His disciples.

We actually went to see Neil Diamond in concert last night. We spent all our American Express points (and a few bucks besides) to get good seats at the venue. As we settled into our seats and got ready for an evening of fine music and lyrics and energy from one our favorite musicians, along came the True Believer (Hmmm, maybe his favorite song is Diamond's "I'm a Believer."). Anyhoo, this yahoo and his female friend plopped down behind us (after being kicked out of another row for being in the wrong seats -- but that's a whole 'nother blog). He immediately began testifying. Loudly. And often. "Neil, I love Neil. He's the man. He's like Elvis only bigger. I think I'll cry when I see him." I am not making this up. Then the "Wooo-hooo's" began emanating from his constantly opened mouth. Then more "Neil, I love Neil. He's the MAN!"

Then the lights lowered and the band started cranking it up. And so did the True Believer. "Bring it on, Neil, bring it on. Lay it on us. He's awesome. He's the MMAANN!" It actually got worse when Diamond stepped on stage and began the opening number. Between his adulatory remarks, the True Believer sang along. Loudly. Off-beat. Pulling a harmonica out and playing along.

I'll tell you, it was almost more than this Quaker could bear. It seemed a good time to dump the peace testimony in favor of a slight tap up the side of the True Believer's head. But I grimaced and bore it. He can't keep it up, I reasoned. Bad reasoning. He could and did. Two songs. Three songs. Four songs.

On number four I gave him my most practiced "Lew Look" (a glare that my Uncle Lew the Ohio State Highway Patrolman practiced to great effect on us when we were kids). Nothing.

Then the lights went down and Diamond perched on a stool to sing a ballad, which he said came from his new album. The True Believer still shouted "Bring it on. You're the MMMMAAAANNN." I added the phrase, "Do you mind?!" to the "Lew Look." "What," I heard him ask his significant other, "is that guy's problem?" But he got a little quieter. Until Diamond got to the lyric that went "I looked for my truth."

The True Believer about had a heart attack. "Looked for your truth? Whaddya mean. You're 67 years old -- you should know your truth. Can you believe this? What's he saying?" I glared at him and Nancy even asked, "Would you please be quiet?" Then the True Believer bent down and started in on Nancy, "I just want to go on record as saying I disagree with this searching for truth. There is Truth. He should know it by now. This is stupid." At which point I finally told him to be quiet or I'd get the usher.

Still, I was struck by the fervency of the True Believer -- both for and against his buddy Neil in just a matter of minutes. All because of some words that didn't' fit the Neil he loved. Simon Peter updated, I thought. "I tell you I never knew that man (or his songs)." The True Believer denied his Lord of Lyrics and sat ashamed of his Song Savior.

Lord, I thought, please don't let me be a True Believer -- at least like this guy. Make me constant in faith. Teach me to be trustworthy -- even when your words are ones I'd rather not hear. Make me a believer who's true.

-- Brent

Old Age -- Officially

It's finally happened. I'm officially a geezer. No, I didn't have a birthday recently. No I did not reach any "milestone" this year. The only way I know it's official is because I have now been quoted on the AARP website in an article titled "50 Reasons to Love Being 50+." I'm #29 -- no, not my age (that's highly classified but is somewhere between 57 and 59), just after Paul Newman (not bad placement!).

I knew this was coming because earlier this summer Lynne Meredith Schreiber called and interviewed me about spirituality for people over 50 for Modern Maturity magazine's celebration of AARP's 50th anniversary. Still, for someone who still "sees" himself as 20ish with hair, this is quite a shock. And yet, after reading the other 49 reasons life at my age is good, I'm begin to relish my new elder status. While when younger I always hoped to be on the cover of Rolling Stone, to be quoted inside Modern Maturity is not all bad.

And I hope #43 is true (and that I can convince Nancy that #8 needs some testing to make sure it is true!).

-- Brent

Of Yearly Meetings, Authority, and Disclaimers....

I just heard a rumor that there's a new idea floating around about how to neutralize a certain Friends pastor/author type that some people find really annoying. No, not me. I mean someone else whose books sell a few more copies than mine do (between us we've sold almost 2 million, five thousands books. He's sold 2 million and I've sold 5,000).

I've long known that there are some people in Western Yearly Meeting who are troubled by this fellow's theology -- especially his audacious assertion that God's love is so large that everyone will eventually find a safe haven in God's eternal presence. While that is pretty outrageous and hard for a good Christian to swallow (I mean, get serious, how could God really love someone like Hitler or the driver who cut me off this morning more than He loves me?!), this writer's theology is not the point of the post. Rather, the point is a proposed "solution" (hmmm, wasn't "solution" part of the phrase regarding how the Nazi's dealt with the Jewish "problem"?).

The solution I hear is being floated is to ask this vile offender to simply note in each of his books that the views expressed in them are his own and do not reflect the views of Friends or (especially) Western Yearly Meeting.

I think this is brilliant. It's a great idea. It helps move Friends one step further back toward the ecclesiasticism we have always embraced. It's a lot like the concordat cum originali in the front of approved Catholic books. According to the the US Council on Bishops:

The Committee on Divine Worship, a standing committee of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, has the responsibility for all matters relating to the Liturgy. The Secretariat of Divine Worship carries out the work of the Committee on Divine Worship, by:
overseeing the preparation and approval of liturgical books and texts and granting the concordat cum originali for publications of liturgical texts in the United States.

I suppose we could insert "General Superintendents" for "Bishops" and we'd be one step closer to Rome.

Oh wait. I guess I got that backward somewhat. The early Quakers were against ecclesiastical hierarchies and instead stood for calling people to a living experience of God. They didn't have bishops. Or superintendents.

Still, I think the idea just might work. But only if we don't stop with this particular pastor/writer. We need to make every Friends pastor do the same thing with every sermon they preach, newsletter article they write, Sunday school class or Bible study they teach -- heck, let's just make it every public utterance. "Great dinner, darling -- of course, that's just my opinion and does not reflect the view of Friends or Western Yearly Meeting."

Perhaps we could get name tags made for each pastor. Something that says, "Hi. My name is XXX. Anything I say is just my opinion and does not reflect the view of Friends or Western Yearly Meeting."

Now that I think about it, why stop with pastors. Let's add clerks, assistant clerks, recording clerks, ushers, trustees, choir members, people in the pews. I mean surely this fellow can't be the only one in the Yearly Meeting who's spouting stuff that others don't agree with.

Why, I have to admit that I've heard one or two or twenty other pastors say things that I don't believe are true -- things so bad that my wife Nancy, who is as good hearted a person as I've ever known in my life, had to get up and leave with tears in her eyes because she was so offended. And these speakers were Friends pastors. And nobody has ever, so far as I know, ever eldered them about being so far right (as opposed to this other fellow's left) that George Fox would have been classified a liberal and soft on Jesus, the Bible, and atonement in comparison.

Or maybe the solution isn't any type of disclaimer. Instead it may be time to just shut-up about the whole thing, let God defend God's self, and proclaim a little good news to a world that could use some. Would to God that we truly trusted -- dare I say "believed in" -- God enough to let that happen.

I hope this disclaimer rumor is just that -- a rumor. But then Yearly Meeting's fast approaching and there's nothing we love so much as a good fight -- good Quakers that we are. What must Jesus think?

--Brent

The views expressed in this blog are Brent's, Brent's alone, and do not reflect the views of Friends, Quakers, the Religious Society of Friends, any Yearly Meeting anywhere, the local Meeting he attends, the worship-sharing group that meets at his house, Princess the dog, and the cats known as Ebony, Coal, and Grace. Nancy Elizabeth Bill also had nothin' to do with this.

PS Don't read the above as endorsement of Phil Gulley's theology (or the "dis-endorsement" of anybody else's). The point, in case you missed it, is the absurdity of censoring one whilst the ninety-and nine get to speak and do anything they please without fear of losing their recording.

A Good Friday

Silence, especially in life’s busyness, leads us through the whitewater of life to gentle pools of stillness and calm. 400 years of Quaker silence have pointed us back to the center within. Silence moves us from difficult self-examination to healing to relaxing in God’s presence. Interior silence takes us to a place where we are living St. Paul’s injunction to pray without ceasing, even when we are not consciously aware that we are doing so. That happened to me on a recent Good Friday. Here's a reading on that subject from Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality.

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Download this episode:

Enjoy--
Brent

Purgatory (Quaker Style)

Haven Kimmel the world famous memoirist and novelist originally from Mooreland, Indiana (better known in Indiana as the home of the Mooreland Free Fair and local newspaperman and celeb Darrel Radford -- one of the Midwest's nicest fellows -- who hosts the Talent Show at the fair) and I have been e-talking a bunch lately. In one of our e-conversations, she revealed how she had consigned someone that we both knew to her own version of Purgatory for offenses in shoddy theology and the omission of recognition of women's contributions in the Society of Friends. And, since it was her Purgatory, she got to decide when said person got out and what they could and could not do there (talking was okay, napping wasn't). I said I thought napping should be allowed, but not talking -- especially for this person who would likely never get out if allowed to talk, but that's about all I can say without revealing who was put there.

As we e-talked about Purgatory, who should be there, and whether they actually had to be dead to be sent there or just brain or soul dead, I remembered another Quaker I knew who, if you said or did something that half-bothered her, would say, "I consign you to Hell." Whenever I hear her say that, I get chills. Whilst I've been known to utter some pretty bad words (all in the interest of Quaker plain speech), including the "F" bomb ("Fi-Fi-Fo-F.U.M.), I have never, that I can recall, told someone to "Go to Hell." I may have thought it, but putting it into words uttered aloud seemed to take it to a place I wasn't ready to go. And still aren't. That sort of holds true, too, for me and the idea of me directing God to consign someone to the hot place. Hell still scares the Hell out of me -- mostly because, no matter what it's like figuratively or literally, I've had enough of it in this life that I don't care for an eternity of it elsewhere. Nor do I really wish it on even my worst of enemies -- or the enemies of humankind. Sure, I'd like them to get their just desserts -- just so long as that means I don't have to get mine, too. Eternity seems kind of like a pretty long time. So consignment there, I leave up to God. And/or Mr. Deity.

But Purgatory, hmmm, now that's another matter. I'd be happy to run that place and thanks to Haven have now set up my own version. I get to say who goes there and why and what they have to do to get out. Her's and mine will probably share some population overlap (like the person she's already got in her's -- me, too!), but I think that'll work out because souls probably aren't limited to being one place at one time like bodies are. So they could be in her's and mine at the same time. And they'd meet different people in both places which might help shorten their stay in soul rehab.

I still argue for including the souls of some folks who are still physically alive. Bad drivers, for example. A whole slew of them would in my Purgatory. Many of them sport "In God We Trust" Indiana license plates and drive like the Devil. They need a time out -- to think about getting out of the speed lane while going 45 or even merely the speed limit (what are they thinking?!), visualize using a turn signal (or turning it off after 15 miles), etc.

I'd also stick people who are hateful to others who disagree with them there. Let's put Pat Robertson and John Shelby Spong there. And Martin Luther and John Calvin and George Fox. My Purgatory would be sort of like the movie "Ground Hog Day." Here we go again, they'd wake up thinking (see, I'd allow napping, too) and maybe, after a few thousand years, begin to listen to each (and learn to play the piano, too).

Well, that's how I'd start. What about you?

-- Brent

Snakes...

Indiana Jones: There's a big snake in the plane, Jock.

Jock: Oh, that's just my pet snake Reggie.

Indiana Jones: I hate snakes, Jock. I hate 'em.

I concur. Nancy likes 'em and feels bad whenever we find one that got caught by one of the mowers or the the bushhog. Me? Well, I know I should feel bad for one of God's creatures (although I seem to recall some verses in Genesis that don't put them in too kindly of a light) that encountered a spinning blade, but... I'm with Indiana Jones on this one.

I thought of that when my dear sister July (actually her name is Julie -- but I call her July and she calls me... well, that's for another post) sent me the following story from the Salt Lake City Tribune. She knows my love of snakes -- and, at first, I thought that's why she sent it to me. Then I saw another connection...

Unpleasant surprise
Roy woman shocked to find snakes in parcel
By Erin Alberty The Salt Lake Tribune
Article Last Updated: 06/27/2008 06:09:58 AM

Gaye Hurst refuses to enter pet stores because of her fear of snakes.

If she sees a picture of a snake, she folds the page so she does not have to look at it. A Halloween haunted house once had to stop operations, turn on the lights and escort Hurst outside because she panicked when she saw a python among the attractions, she says.

Now the Roy woman is reeling from the discovery of two large snakes that apparently escaped a flooded farm in the Midwest by slithering into a package delivered to her home Wednesday.

Hurst, 55, had ordered an oxygen generator from an Indiana company for her glass-blowing hobby, she said. She took the parcel to her living room and was pulling bubble wrap out of the box when she noticed what appeared to be a hose attachment. Her cat took great interest. On closer examination, her husband, James, discovered the "hose" was a 4-foot snake. "Just leave it alone," Gaye Hurst told her husband. "We don't know what kind of snake it is. It's from Indiana."

Hurst said she called 911 and begged dispatchers to send police and the National Guard. "They probably thought I was kidding," she said.

State wildlife officers arrived to removed the snake when James Hurst noticed movement inside the base of the oxygen generator. A second snake was coiled in the appliance, Gayle Hurst said.

Scientists suspect the snakes are black rat snakes - nonvenomous snakes common in Indiana, said Mark Hadley, spokesman for the state Division of Wildlife Resources. It appears they fed on a piece of foam inside the machine, which was shipped from Unlimited Oxygen in Mooresville, Ind., on June 20, Hurst said.

Staff at the Unlimited Oxygen said a barn near the company's warehouse had become swamped during recent flooding in the Midwest. A company spokeswoman said the snakes likely were displaced and took refuge in the generator.

Biologists planned to bring the snakes to Salt Lake City today to confirm their species and decide whether they may be kept in Utah as pets, Hadley said. If not, they likely will be shipped and released in a state where the species is native. ealberty@sltrib.com

Ah, it's so typical of us wily Hoosier to ship our snakes to other places to get 'em out of our hair (well, not mine personally -- having none). Dan Quayle and Dan Coats and a few other political types come to mind -- send them to the snakepit in DC.

But enough of the political wise-cracks. The story above just makes me proud to live close to Mooresville -- home of the Indiana state flag, John Dillinger, Zydeco's World Famous Cajun Restuarant, and inter-snake commerce department.

[Upon opening the Well of the Souls and peering down into it]

Sallah: Indy, why does the floor move?

Indiana Jones: Give me your torch. [Sallah does, and Indy drops it in] Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes?

Yuckkkk!

--Brent

Sometimes Ya Just Gotta Dance...

... and thank Heaven (really) that Matt did. A true piece of joyful, smile-making mirth and art. Check out his site http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/?fbid=BdODJv



And smile... for Heaven's and your own sakes...

-- Brent

God, Getting Lost, and A Hint of Irony...

Nancy and I have just returned from a relaxing time at Bald Head Island (I know -- very appropriate considering my hairlessness) North Carolina. The return drive took a bit longer than it should as we traveled home via bookstore visits and workshop presentation in Wilmington, NC and then Johnstown, PA -- not exactly a direct route from Southport to Indianapolis.

The trip from Johnstown took longer than it needed because I got lost. Completely turned around. Just after doing a reading from Sacred Compass. The reading went well, the audience seemed engaged, and then, after chit cat and signing some books, it was off in the car. Nancy read the Mapquest directions and I followed those well read directions. Well, I thought I did. I must have done something wrong because I couldn't find the road that we were looking for -- and thought we were on. After a mile or so, I pulled out our road atlas (having declared Mapquest worthless) map and looked -- as long as I continued south on the road we were on, we'd run into the road we were looking for.

So south we continued -- right into the heart of downtown Johnstown and "Thunder in the Valley," a huge annual motorcycle event. ("Thunder" explained why I couldn't get a motel room in Johnstown -- here I'd thought it was all the Friends General Conference Quakers taking them up! Which didn't fit with my mental image of FGCers being frugal types.)

Everywhere I looked was a motorcycle, motorcycler, vendor, streets not being where they were supposed to be, and no Route 219 heading toward the interstate. Time was a passin' -- and I was frustrated. Instead of being ahead of schedule and almost to Sommerset, we were still in Johnstown and home was 7 hours and 43 minutes (according to Mapquest -- which I was cursing at this point) away.

Finally, Nancy spotted a sign that said "To 219" and up the ramp we went. It didn't make any sense -- why would we go north to find the road going south? And why were none of the roads where they were supposed to be? Finally, 10 miles later, came an exit for Route 219 -- 1/2 a block from where I originally turned on to the road the led to 219. How can that be, I wondered? As I merged into the swiftly moving 219 traffic, I glanced up at the mirror and noticed the compass embedded in it by thoughtful Toyota engineers. I was, and had been since we got on the road that said "To 219", going south. My mistake earlier was that, when I made the first turn in Johnstown, instead of heading south (like I thought I was), I turned north -- and had been moving away from my destination the entire time. That's why MapQuest and the road atlas were worthless -- I was reading them "upside down." All I needed to do to get going right was to look up at the compass. I would have seen clearly that I was going north, not south, and turned around.

This all reminded me, after I calmed down and quit feeling quite like an idiot, that it is precisely when I think -- no, not think, rather am CERTAIN!!!! -- that I'm going the right direction that I need most to check my compass. And in this case, I'm not talking about the Toyota one. I'm thinking about my sacred compass; the work of the Holy Spirit in my life. I may have checked the maps, the weather, the road conditions, and my own sense of direction -- but that may not be enough.

The car's compass was there. I just needed to consult it. When I did what the maps told me began to make sense and 7 hours and 52 minutes later (we made up some lost time) we arrived safely back at Ploughshares Farm. I checked the compass when we turned north into our long driveway, though, just to make sure!

-- Brent

All The News

For the purpose of being alone and still before God, you might want to make a regular, non-negotiable place in your schedule. Maybe that’s early in the morning. It wouldn’t be for me. I hate getting up. But Nancy loves it. At home, when possible, she practices garden silence – sweet communion with God’s growing things. Rufus Jones said, “We find Him when we enjoy beauty.” Here's a reading on that subject from Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality.

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Download this episode: http://www.brentbill.com/02AlltheNews.mp3

Enjoy--
Brent

The Newly Discovered History of Amish Rock and Roll

Not too long ago, my friend Carrie Newcomer and I were on tour together (well, actually, we appeared at one place together). While together, we put our heads together and discovered that we had both been working on the same research project -- the heretofore little known phenomenon of Amish rock and roll.

Now many people know Carrie as an outstanding singer/songwriter and me as a passable writer. But they don't know that we both PhD's in music ethnology from the Berlin Conservatory of Music (online, distance learning division) located in Berlin, North Dakota. And we have a special interest in historic peace church music (Quaker -- very, very, very quiet with few lyrics, for example).

The Amish are, of course, are loosely affiliated with the historic peace churches. And so we began looking into their music -- especially the music of the youth. What we found astounded us. That is that the Amish have had an amazing influence on American Rock and Roll.

Most of us know the Amish as a rather closed (to put it mildly) sect of pious buggy-driving believers and eschew electricity. They live in a strict society, under tight control of their family and close-knit community. But then there's "rumspringa." When they turn 16, Amish teenagers are allowed the freedom to explore the customs of the outside "English" world before deciding whether to join the Amish church for life or leave the community altogether.

During this period, many of their youth have formed clandestine rock and roll bands and have rocked forth with a wide range of songs. Many of these songs were discovered by "the English," given slightly different lyrical phrasing, and been recorded by rock and roll stars as diverse as "The Beach Boys," "The Doors," The Rolling Stones," and more.

While the reader may find that hard to believe, Carrie and I (prior to publishing our findings in a scholarly journal) are herewith listing some of our findings -- and inviting others to contribute songs they may have discovered in their listening.

"Amish Girls"

Well Mennonite girls are hip

I really dig those caps they wear

And der English girls with no caps at all

They knock me out with that short hair.

I wish they all could be Amish

I wish they all could be Amish

I wish they all could be Amish girls.

Music & Lyrics by Brian Yoder and Karl Bontrager

"Born to be Mild"

Get your buggy runnin'

Head out on the two lane

Lookin' for some rumspringa

And not dressin' up so plain

Born to be mild

Born to be mild

Music & Lyrics by Mars Miller

"Raise my Barn"

Come on baby, raise my barn

Come on baby, raise my barn

Try to get the haymow higher!

Music & Lyrics by Jim Graber, Robbie Yoder, John Miller, and Ray Bontrager

"Stotzfus Action"

I can't get no Stoltzfus action

I can't get no Stotlzfus action

'cause i try and i try and i try and i try

I can't get no, i can't get no

Music & Lyrics by Mick Stoltzfus and Keith Stoltzfus

Those are our samples. Please send your suggestions to us c/o this blog or our website http://www.secrethistoryofamishrockandrollsongscoveredbybignamerocstars.com/

--Brent

PS Check out the Amish Outlaws (that's where the picture came from)

The High Price of High Octane

Well, it had to happen, I suppose. I paid over $4 per gallon for gasoline whilst doing book tour stuff in Chicago last week. Thank heavens I drive a hybrid. But the high price of fuel really hit me recently when my little Jewish brother, Rabbi Aaron, and I spent an afternoon at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. It was a practice day for the (then) upcoming Indianapolis 500 ("The 92nd running of the greatest spectacle in racing"). Aaron and I wandered through "Gasoline Alley" -- the home of the racing teams' garages. We saw lots of drivers and cars and enjoyed the general hoop-la surrounding the event. We turned a corner to go back to the Rubicon Racing suite (yes, we were guests of somebody -- we're both too stingy to drop real money for tickets, pit passes, etc) for another round of hot dogs and sodas when I saw true evidence of the high price of fuel. There sat one of the shiny round gas tanks of the racing league and plastered firmly upon it (you have to look close) was a sticker with a picture of an Indianapolis State Police trooper and the warning " Don't Pump and Run!"

Well, that certainly explains why some of the pit stops took so long at this year's race -- Dixon, Andretti, Patrick, et al had to swipe their cards and sign the receipts!

--Brent

The Holy Ordinary

God is the God of the daily – and the daily reveals the deity. We best perceive this in times of holy hushes. Spiritual silence urges us to see God in a mustard seed and leaven and autumn leaves and smiling faces. It leads us into a new way of seeing – a way of seeing the invisible hand of God in all that we have been blessed with. Rufus Jones said, “We find Him when we enjoy beauty.” Here's a reading on that subject from Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality.

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Enjoy--
Brent

Purple State of Mind -- A Must See

Today I watched a film that every person (especially Christians) in America should watch -- "Purple State of Mind." The synopsis says, "Welcome to a conversation between two old friends. Welcome to a real conversation about the things that divide and unite all of us: our memories, our identities, our beliefs, our choices.

"Craig Detweiler and John Marks have known each other for twenty-five years. When they roomed together as sophomores at Davidson College, they were devout Christians. It was Craig's first year in the faith, John's last. After college, they parted ways, and when they met again, years later, they never talked about what happened... until now...

"Their conversation starts as a bull session between pals and becomes a story about how people make friends, and how they lose them; how people change, how they grow, and how they deal with the big stuff: death, sex, the meaning of life, God. The conversation between Craig and John captures in all its intimacy and difficulty a one on one reckoning between two people who want to understand each other but won't compromise their beliefs.

"At a time when the country is ever more divided over questions of faith and doubt, welcome to a new way of talking... welcome to a new territory of the heart. Welcome to a Purple State of Mind."

As we Quakers might say, "This film speaks my mind." Indeed, I know it speaks to my condition -- and I wouldn't be surprised if it spoke to yours, too.

--Brent

Also look for Craig's fine new book A Purple State of Mind: Finding Middle Ground in a Divided Culture.

Readin', Writin' and Faith

I just returned from a two-day event at the Alban Institute. titled "Secular and Sacred Story: Finding Connections that Enrich Transformation and Ministry." Participating in the event were folks such as C. Michael Curtis (fiction editor of the Atlantic Monthly), Barbara Nicolosi (founder of ActOne), Heidi Christensen (National Cathedral’s Cathedral College), and Craig Detweiler(filmmaker of "Purple State of Mind") and others. It was a time of ideas and discussion of the power of story, especially as it intersects with congregational life.

I mostly listened (something which faithful reader will find hard to believe), but was asked to lead the "Writers' Fishbowl" -- a time of dialogue about writing as a person of faith. I had (if I do say so myself) some really great questions. They were so good that we only got to two of dozen or I had prepared before time was up. Which made me think -- perhaps others who see their writing as an act of ministry might like to think about them. And share their answers. So ... here they are.

1. Leland Rykins, of Calvin College, wrote that about “Reading and writing as a means of grace” – adding once wrote that, “A means of grace, as I use the phrase, is anything in our lives by which God makes his truth and beauty known to us, and correspondingly anything in our lives by which God's presence becomes a reality to us.”
a. Is it the role of writer to make God’s truth and beauty known to the reader?

2. I heard somebody (and I wish I could remember who… but I’m old) say that Gospel is a uniquely Christian form and so gives some support to the idea of novel as distinctively Christian in origin.
i. Characterization (Mark 1:6)
ii. Scene setting (John 3:1-2)
iii. Dialogue (Matthew 19:16-22)
iv. Shows, doesn’t just tell (Luke 22:39-44)
v. Lack of wasteful adjectives (Mark 1:43) (“strong used just 4 times in all of Mark)
vi. Tension & release cycles (Luke 8:22-26)
vii. Builds towards climax
viii. Resolution (Luke 24:50-53)
ix. Also has primary, secondary & tertiary characters
b. Have you ever thought of the art you’re creating as a sort of Gospel – a telling of good news? If so, in what ways do think of it that way? Likewise, if not, why not?

3. “If I understand the Gospel, it tells us that we are to spread the Good News to all four corners of the world, not limiting the giving of light to people who have already seen the light. If my stories are incomprehensible to Jews or Muslims or Taoists, then I have failed as a Christian writer. ….” Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water
a. Do you think this sort of comprehensibility is also important for writers of other faiths such as Michael Chabon, Dara Horn, Salman Rushdie,etc?
b. Is there any such thing as a Christian screenwriter or Jewish novelist? Or are we merely writers who are informed by a particular faith tradition?
c. What is the role of the audience in creation of art?
d. Does the idea of an audience – say, congregations or adult faith groups – ever enter in to your creative process?
e. How does the audience influence your idea about where a character/scene/idea is working?

4. “Creation is surpassingly wonderful, and God is greater than anyone can possibly imagine. I write about the things I do because I can’t help it. I think flowers bloom to the glory of God. I write stories to the glory of God, to celebrate the privilege and miracle of being alive.” Mary Ward Brown, novelist.
a. So why do you write?
b. What do you wish a congregation using your creation for whatever purpose would know about you?
c. What do you wish a congregation using your creation for whatever purpose would know about the piece they’re using?

5. “At its best, art transfigures the world around us for a brief time, strives to let the radiance of truth, goodness, and beauty flash out for an instant. Art wakes us up, trains our perceptions, and reminds us that when we try to build rigid structures around presence we inevitably lose what we attempt to keep. The purpose of art is not to strand us in an alternate world, but to return us to the realm of the ordinary, only with new eyes. After the light had dimmed and the cloud had dispersed, the disciples found Jesus alone. Seeing their bewilderment, he must have had compassion on them. He must also have known that, though the disciples were temporarily blinded by the light, an image had been imprinted on their hearts that would never be erased.” Gregory Wolfe, Image, #27
a. So how do you see art, in this case story, film, etc as transfiguring the world?
b. What are ways you could see this “awakening” as Wolfe calls it, work in congregational settings?

What sayest ... um, er, writest... thou?

--Brent

And the Winner is...

Faithful reader (whoever you are) will remember that a few weeks ago I instituted a blog contest. I did it to help get the word out about my new book, Sacred Compass: The Way of Spiritual Discernment. I offered to answer 5-10 questions sent in by bloggers for a virtual interview. My good wife Nancy was to be the judge. The winner would win a signed copy of the book and a gourmet assortment of goodies from The Best Chocolate in Town (my favorite chocolate place!). Family of Brent Bill, employees of Brent Bill, Brent Bill's cats and dog were ineligible to participate in the contest (though Princess, the nicest, dumbest Great Pyrenees who ever lived tried to). The contest was prohibited where void. Side effects include dizziness, neuralgia, and innuendo.

Blogging their way into the contest were C. Wess Daniels at Gathering in Light, Liz Wine at Lovin' Life Liz, Shawna Roberts at Mystics, Poets, Fools, Robin Mohr at What Canst Thou Say, and Liz Op at the Good Raised Up. I hope you'll check them out -- and buy and/or read the book.

And now ... drum roll, please ... the winner -- Liz Wine of Lovin' Life Liz. I pressed Nancy for the reason and she just said, "I liked it best" and then went out to plant herbs.

So, congratulations, Liz -- a book and chocolates are on their way to you.

Thanks to all the bloggers -- and readers!

-- Brent

Do We Know Where?

I've been thinking a lot lately about compasses and GPS (hmmm, wonder why?). This morning, navigating rush hour traffic on the way to work, I was struck by another difference between the two and why a compass is the best metaphor for our quest for God and spiritual discernment (besides my hanging my whole book on that metaphor!).

The main thing, it seems to me, is that GPS implies at least beginning with a fairly specific idea of where the end destination is. It's not like hopping in a cab, like in the old movies, and telling the system, "just drive." You enter where you are (specifically) and where you'd like to end up (specifically). I can't just enter "Brent's Farm" for example -- it needs a full address. Even with newer systems that allow you find stores, eateries, and the such, you have to add specifics -- city at least and the type of store -- food, book, etc.

What would we put in for God? Is God locatable in that sense? I don't think so.

That's why the compass fits better. We may not always know where God is ... or where we are ... but the compass unfailing points the way to God, our spiritual true north. The Holy Spirit, our ever present companion on our life's pilgrimage, shows the way. Who knows what we'll find along the way -- joyful, sad, helpful, scary. It's an adventure in spirituality -- not safe, but ultimately satisfying as we learn to rely on the tool God has planted in our soul.

--Brent

Sacred Compass -- Leadings Fit Our Teachability

Christ, our Inner Teacher, knows our teachability. The Spirit works with us where we are and within our own capacities for growth.Yes, God might stretch us. We will probably feel such spiritual stretching most when we’re lead in a way that others are not. But as the Psalmist says, “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you for your own good, who leads you in the way you should go.” You. In your way. God will not teach anyone else in your way; everyone is taught differently. Here's a reading on that subject from Sacred Compass.

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Enjoy--
Brent

A Sabbath for Silence

The last few weeks have been busier – and noisier – than usual. I’ve been (and will be) out promoting the release of Sacred Compass: The Way of Spiritual Discernment. That’s included leading workshops, doing interviews, recording podcasts, and doing book-signings and readings. Lots of words. All in addition to the “normal” flow of words out of my mouth as a congregational consultant, supervisor of a dozen staff members, attendee and convener of countless meetings, and my natural chatty personality. Way too many words. It’s time for some silence. So that’s what I’m going to do this morning. Take a Sabbath of silence. Shut-up. Turn the word tap off for a while. I need to re-center amid the hectic pace that goes through July. I need to quiet down and hear the voice of God – and maybe even reorient my soul a bit. Check what words I’m really going to need to say – and those which I need to lay aside.

Silence – not words – leads us aright. “I have never repented of silence,” said St. Arsenius. I know I have often mourned words that passed my lips. Often, in silence, I remember words I wish I could take back. I’ve said many things that I know, when I am silent, were not reflections of Jesus, but sprang from my need to best someone verbally or overwhelm them with my intellect. Spiritual silence reminds me that I need to be still and learn from the One who placed ego aside – even though it led to a cross. In the holy silence we come to know the living Word, as the gospel writer of John calls Jesus. This life and light of humankind still shines in the darkness. In the silence we come to the Living Word of God directly – the Word that writer of Hebrews tell us “… is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Silence takes us to a place in our souls where we stand naked in spirit before God – as guilty, then forgiven, and finally blameless. All our secrets are laid bare to God’s eyes and our own. God then gives us the power to see ourselves as we truly are. In the silence I often have to face the fact that I am not nearly so nice a guy as I usually think I am. I see when I’ve been mean spirited or apathetic. I remember the times I shot nasty looks at people who jumped in front of me at the grocery store checkout.

Silence doesn’t leave me there, though. In holy silence God begins giving me the power to live my faith. In silence I see God’s work in me being slowly realized. Any time any of us come into God’s presence we leave ready to live out the gospel with as much light as we have been given. If we take time – and not just a quick hit of silence – to be still.

-- Brent

Sacred Compass -- Seeing the Signs On the Way

Following our sacred compass is like hunting for a house down a country lane—we get the general direction, but need to learn to look for the signs. “Take heed of the promptings of Truth and Love, for those are the leadings of God,” urged the first Quaker, George Fox. Leadings is the word that Friends use to describe direction or guidance coming from the Spirit of God. Divine direction, God’s guidance, spiritual opportunity, and revelation are intimately tied into following the sacred compass. Here's a reading from chapter three of Sacred Compass.

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Enjoy--
Brent