8 Reasons Most Quaker Congregations SHOULD Never Break the 100 Attendance Mark

Empty or Full??

Okay. I'm writing this in response to a re-post by my friend (and Friend) Adrian Halverstadt.  This morning on Facebook he posted "8 Reasons Most Churches Never Break the 200 Attendance Mark" by Corey Nieuwhof.  Since I'm a sucker for that sort of stuff ("10 Ways to Play Bogey Golf", "9 Tips on How Not To Turn a Tractor Over", "8 Sure Fire, No Fail ....") and am interested in churches, I read it.    His reasons are not bad --

1.  The pastor is the primary caregiver. 
2.  The leaders lacks a strategy. 
3.  True leaders aren’t leading. 
4.  Volunteers are unempowered. 
5.  The governance team micromanages. 
6.  Too many meetings. 
7.  Too many events and programs that lead nowhere. 
8.  The pastor suffers from a deire to please everybody. 

Some of these you might even feel helpful.  If so, you'll want to check out his blog post and see his reasoning why these eight things keep churches from breaking the 200 attendance mark. Maybe they'll help you on your way to meeting that goal. 

But these eight -- helpful as they might be -- gave me pause.  Not the eight items so much as the stated goal.  Breaking the 200 attendance mark.  Is that a worthy goal?  I don't think so -- especially for Quaker congregations.  And so I offer my 8 reasons most Quaker groups shouldn't even break the 100 attendance mark.

1. Spiritual Intimacy -- I've been in some glorious and large meetings for worship.  One at FGC Gathering this summer comes to mind.  But for the most part, my experience of truly deep, gathered worship has occurred in groups of less than 100.  Sitting close, seeing and knowing everyone there -- their joys, sorrows, concerns, hopes -- seems to lend itself to an increased spiritual intimacy.  Both with each other and the Great Lover of our Souls.
2. Listening Together -- since we gather to listen to God together -- and maybe even be given a message to share to those gathered, the dynamics of listening well together seem to me to be closely related to the number gathered.  There are enough of us afflicted with monkey-mind and thoughts scattering around that the power of those who are truly centered and communing with the Living Christ is more easily defused the greater the number of people who come together.  The power of those gathered wafts over and around a smaller group, drawing it together more easily than a larger one.
3. Community -- how many people can we really know?  I mean really?  I am blessed with a bazillion Facebook friends, but I am not in deep spiritual community (or any other type of deep community) with them.  I attended a mega-church once with some family members who attended there.  They were greeted with, "Are you new here?"  That was after a couple of years of attending.  Perhaps a goodly number of the congregants there feel connected with and in community with each other.  But I fear not.  Smaller congregations can engender a deeper sense of spiritual community precisely because they can both know each other and be known by each other.  
4. Trust -- when we know each other, especially each others' spiritual and life stories, then that intimacy and community builds trust.  We trust the others' motives and reasons for doing things -- even things we disagree with them on.  We cut each other a bit more slack.  We learn to live in love, not fear.
5. Working Together -- all of us.  When we're smallish, we all chip in to do the work that God has called us all to do.  For example, when my meeting -- West Newton Friends -- decided to do Quaker Quest in 2012, we did it together.  Everyone.  Some were presenters, some were hosts, some made food, some did childcare, some prayed for the efforts.  It was a whole group effort -- one that would be difficult to achieve in a congregation of 200.  Since we were all involved, we all felt ownership, to some degree, of the program and its outcome. 
6. Work That Needs to be Done -- smaller groups, when they are alive, not dying and form-driven, have the chance to do only the work that needs to be done.  So what that "Faith and Practice" says that we need X number of committees with X number of people on them serving X number of years?  No way.  There's not enough of us to do that without all of us serving on 27 committees.  Instead we do the work that we feel God is calling us to do.  Sunday school teachers teach because they feel led -- not because a nominating committee asked them.  Same with other programs or projects we undertake.  We look at what God is calling us to do with the people we have and the space we have at this time.  We do what we're called to do -- and nothing else.  I heard recently of a Quaker meeting that only had two committees -- Us and Them.  Us is pastoral care, worship, etc.  Them is outreach, missions work, etc.  Hmmm... what a concept.
7. Growing Deep Together -- our adult Sunday school consists of all adults in the meeting.  Where that limits the offering of electives, it does keep us together spiritually.  We study together, talk together, pray together, and learn together.  And good work comes out of it -- as when we all studied (even the kids!) the causes and possible solutions to hunger issues.  As class ended one Sunday we decided -- together -- that next spring we would offer a community garden on our property as a faithful way to respond to hunger in our own township.  There was little discussion because we all had been studying this issue together and realized that we needed to do a witness together.
8. Missional -- being small gives us a chance to think missionally.  There's nothing wrong with numerical growth.  I hope our meeting grows in numbers as well as in spiritual depth as we are doing now.  But I also hope that as we do, instead of worrying where we'll fit the hordes who will join, that we will say our building and our faith community can be accommodate 75 people.  When #76 begins attending, we should look at spinning off a new group and empowering them to to be God's Friends in a new place. 

No.  I don't believe there is any virtue in being small.  And if we are not growing numerically, as well as spiritually, then we are not being faithful to the Good News which has been entrusted to us and which has made such a difference in our lives.  But I, even after being raised a good (well, I wasn't very good at being good) Evangelical Friend who studied the Bible diligently, do not recall one time where Jesus is recorded in the Gospels as saying, "Wherever 200 or 300 are gathered, I am with them."

Just sayin'.

-- Brent

"A Land Without Sin" -- A Book Review

I haven't been blogging much of late, as I've been trying to finish writing a new book with my friend Jennie Isbell.  Now that Finding God in the Verbs: Crafting A New Prayer Language is off at IVP, it's time to catch up.  And there's a lot to catch-up on -- new music, new books, new happenings!

First up is a a new book.  Paula Huston's novel A Land Without Sin.

Set in autumn 1993 in southern Mexico, the novel features Eva Kovic's search for her priest brother who has most likely aligned himself with revolutionary forces who are hiding and raiding from the   Lacandon jungle.  Eva is in her mid-thirties and is a seasoned photo-journalist traveling under the cover of being the photographer for Jan Bource, a Dutch Mayanist.

While that's the surface story, much more is going on -- just as in real life, these characters have layered stories, secrets, and are each on their own quest.  A quest often unknown or unrevealed to the others.  Evan and Stefan (the brother) have their family story, which is far from being one of sweetness and light.  Jan has his, which includes a teenage son and invalid English Quaker wife who is housebound in their Mexican village home. 

Then there are the characters of the dark jungle, the violent guerrilla warfare, and war going on in Eva's heart and mind.

Huston's story is well told and the characters are rich and fully developed.  The are not all lovable nor all villains.  They are real -- filled with mixed motives and hopes and fears.  And the darkness of the jungle draws tighter around them all as they traverse on their individual quests and are caught up in situations far beyond their control.

A Land Without Sin has been compared to Joseph Conrad's The Heart of Darkness (and the movie based on it Apocalypse Now), but I think it has much more of a Graham Greene feel to it than a Conrad.  I first fell in love with Greene's novels whilst taking Brit Lit in college.  And I still love reading them.  The reason this is more Greene than Conrad is the element of faith as more than a plot device.  Stefan's priesthood is more than a character marker, it's important to his actions -- and to Eva's wrestling with things of the spirit.  Including her own struggles with the power and glory.  The human factor is a major part of this novel and is its strength.

On a personal note, I am happy for the portrayal of Quakers as decent, religious folk who are engaged in the empowerment of the poor -- especially women.  And Huston's description of Quaker waiting worship is pretty spot on, despite her referring to it as Quaker meditation (which is a not what most Quakers would call it).

Now for a disclaimer.  Paula is a friend of mine.  So you may not think me a dispassionate reviewer.  Guilty.  I enjoyed her books (mostly non-fiction) though before I knew her.  She's a wonderful writer and thinker -- and I commend her work(s) to you.

-- Brent

Check back later this week for a guest blog post from Paula!

Distance and a Certain Light

Distance and a Certain Light

by May Swenson

Distance
and a certain light
makes anything artistic—
it doesn't matter what.

From an airplane, all
that rigid splatter of the Bronx
becomes organic, logical
as web or beehive. Chunks

of decayed cars in junkyards,
garbage scows (nimble roaches
on the Harlem), herds of stalled
manure-yellow boxes on twisting reaches

of rails, are punched clean and sharp
as ingots in the ignition of the sun.
Rubbish becomes engaging shape—
you only have to get a bead on it,

the right light filling the corridor
of your view—a gob of spit
under a microscope, fastidious
in structure as a crystal. No contortion

without intention, and nothing ugly.
In any random, sprawling, decomposing thing
is the charming string
of its history—and what it will be next. 

"Distance and a Certain Light" by May Swenson, from Collected Poems. © The Library of America, 2013. Reprinted with permission. The Literary Estate of May Swenson. (buy now)

True Love: "Sweet Lorraine"

 A whimsical story of true love in song:

"Sweet Lorraine"

Questions on Prayer

Hi Blog Reading Friends --

 

As you may know, I'm at it again.  Writing another book.  This one is on prayer.  So I have two questions for you (if you'd like to play along):

1) What is your favorite/usual prayer -- either a written/formal one or one you pray seemingly all the time from your heart/soul (mine is usually "HELP!!!!")

2) What is a book on prayer that you've found helpful?

You can answer here ... or send me an email at brentbil@brentbill.com

 Ready... set... GO!

Thanks!

Brent

Signs & Spiritual Discernment

Recently, at a presentation I was giving on my book Sacred Compass, someone asked if I believed God worked through "signs."  "Isn't that a bit Ouija-y boardish?" she asked.

I had to think a bit before answering.  After all, I had an entire chapter in the book on "signs."  After some thought, I replied something to effect that "Yes, I believe God does work through signs.  All kinds of them -- internal nudges, outward leadings, literal signs, and more."  I don't think it's Ouija-y boardish at all.

When I got home I remembered a picture of a sign I had taken.  I saw the sign while on a stroll around a little seaside town and snapped it.  As I did, I remembered Moses demanding to know God's name before he went to speak God's truth to Pharaoh's power.  ^"God said to Moses, “I am who I am.This is what you are to say ...‘I am has sent me...’” (Ex. 3:14)

The sign and the story spoke to my condition.  I hope I am on "I Am Street" -- going to God.

-- Brent

"The Day I Die"

The Day I Die

by Krista Lukas

will be a Saturday or a Tuesday, maybe.
A day with a weather forecast,
a high and a low. There will be news:
a scandal, a disaster, some good
deed. The mail will come. People
will walk their dogs.

The day I die will be a certain
day, a square on a calendar page
to be flipped up and pinned
at the end of the month. It may be August
or November; school will be out or in;
somebody will have to catch a plane.

There will be messages, bills to pay,
things left undone. It will be a day
like today, or tomorrow—a date
I might note with a reminder, an appointment,
or nothing at all. 

"The Day I Die" by Krista Lukas, from Fans of My Unconscious. © Black Rock Press, 2013.

Photo by Brent

Words Can Kill ... And So Can Bullets, Of Course: Some More Summer Book Reviews

I'm finally learning to read on my tablet.  Sigh.  Giving in to the modern world.  I bought one of the early Kindles -- and hated it.  I never finished a book on it.  Just could not stand it.

But that was then.  This is the 21st century -- and many pre-release review copies of books (both by people I know and those who don't) are only available as e-books.  So, since my suitcase was full when I headed to Bald Head Island recently, I loaded my Kindle on iPad with new books from NetGalley.

One was good.  Two were really good -- for completely different reasons.  And one (that shall go unmentioned) was dreadful.

First the good.  That was Top Down: A Novel of the Kennedy Assassination by newsman Jim Lehrer.  Lehrer's premise is that the agent who ordered the top off the Kennedy limo (since it had quit raining) is haunted by that decision and is descending into a private mental health hell.  A newspaper man who covered the assassination and asked the agent if the top was going to stay up or down is enlisted by suffering agent's attractive and tenacious daughter to help her father.

As someone who was alive in 1963 and remembers -- as everyone of age back then does -- where he was when he heard the awful news out of Dallas that November day, I hoped to learn something new or at least get a different look on the events of that day.  What I got was a good summer time read -- this would be a fine beach book.  But, sad to say, it doesn't come out until October 2013 -- a little late for beach reading.  It's not a bad book.  It's a tale told well enough, but not well enough to make it a must read.

Next the two really good.  One is really good for, in part, taking me into a world I know nothing about really and making me want to stay there.  That world is the one of Maine state game wardens.  Now, in the interest of integrity, it's a world I visited before after meeting Kate Braestrup at a writing conference.  Her Here if You Need Me: A True Story tells of her life as a chaplain to the Maine state game wardens.  And it tells it very well -- so much so that when I saw Paul Doiron's Massacre Pond and read the description (The beauty and magnificence of the Maine woods is the setting for a story of suspense and violence when one powerful woman’s missionary zeal comes face to face with ruthless cruelty.) I thought I'd take a chance.

I'm glad I did.  Like Dick Francis did years ago with horse racing, I found myself drawn in by a master story teller.  Mike Bowditch, the game warden, is a likable protagonist caught in a web of intrigue ... oh how cliche-ish (but true) ... between Maine state game warden politics, moose-hugging rich environmentalists with seeming no regard for the local logging industry, local logging industry big-wigs who help out with Big Brothers but may have a seamy side, a very attractive young woman, the woman he really loves, and ...    Well, it's a pretty good size web ole Mike is caught in -- which makes for a good story -- beach or otherwise.  And the good news for beach readers, is that Massacre Pond will be out in July.   And it's origins are in a true tale.

The second really good book is about the power of words.  Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words can lead us to homicide.  Lexicon, by Max Barry, features a street-wise hustler (Emily Ruff) who is trained to have a persuasive way with words.  Very persuasive.  This grrrl of the streets is not always trust-worthy -- or is she?  The novel is all about the power of words and their effect on us.  It's also a cautionary tale about all the data gathering that is going on all about us.  I'd say, given the recent NSA revelations and the hunt for Edward Snowden, the publisher scored a wonderful release date (June 18, 2013).

Lexicon is a bit dystopia in the vein of Margaret Atwood's novels and also similar (in the theme of the power of words) to Ben Marcus' The Flame Alphabet.  You can read my review of the latter here.  Its readability puts it closer to Atwood than Marcus' ponderous book and so I really enjoyed it.  Yes, you have to suspend disbelief.  But any of us who work in words -- fiction or non -- invite readers to do that somewhat every day.  And we who work in words know their power -- and hope to use them (benignly and beneficiently, in my case!) to persuade readers.  Emily Ruff is just a bit more casual -- at least at first -- about how she uses words.  Lexicon is thoughtful thriller.  It's no War and Peace, but it's a better than usual summer time read that entertains, makes you think and is available now. 


Stay tuned for more reviews ...

Poems & Prayers: Summer Reading Recommendations, part 1

I am happy to be holding in my hands Eileen R. Kinch's poetry collection Gathering the Silence.  I've been an admirer of Eileen's poetry since I first heard some of it a few years back.  Eileen is a Conservative Friend of deep spirituality and poetic ability.  Her poetry's been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in a number of periodicals.

Her poems are often gentle in spirit.  Kind.  Helpful.  Even their titles reveal this  -- "Where the Worlds Come Together" instead of "Where Worlds Collide," for example.

That is not to say they are not questing, passionate or -- even -- furious.  "Witness" is especially so.

Your eyes have seen,
your ears have heard

a Friend beat the cat...

Gathering the Silence is a truly fine assembly of first rate poetry.  And for me, poetry often is prayer.  I'll be holding it close for awhile -- at home and as I travel.  A tiny book of blessing and challenge.

(And, if you're in the Philadelphia area July 14, be sure to stop by Pendle Hill to hear Eileen read from Gathering the Silence).

Another book I've enjoyed greatly is Men Pray: Voices of Strength, Faith, Healing, Hope and Courage.  I've long known men pray -- I mean, I do!  And I grew up watching my father, grandfather and other men important in my life do so.  Still, I'm not a very good pray-er -- so any assistance is gratefully received.  And these prayers by other men of faith help me move outside my usual prayers and into new territory -- for that I'm grateful (and probably, too, are God's ears!).

One of my favorite prayers so far (since I'm in the midst of writing/editing) is Kent Ira Goff's "Grit Seasoning."

While I do this grit
work, season
the irksome pieces
with enough
Ahas! to remind
of the reason.


Amen.  And indeed!

I heartily commend both these books to you -- you'll be blessed by them.

-- Brent

"...and if you/ were a day..."

What Is True

by Ben Kopel

 

 

one must be one 
to ever be two 

and if you 
were a day 
I'd find a way 

to live 
through you 

  

Copyright © 2013 by Ben Kopel. 

Ben Kopel is the author of Victory (H_NGM_N BOOKS, 2012). He currently lives in New Orleans, Louisiana, where he teaches creative writing and English literature to high school students. 

...a great seething prayer..."

Birding at the Dairy  

by Sidney Wade

 

 

We're searching
for the single

yellow-headed
blackbird

we've heard
commingles

with thousands
of starlings

and brown-headed
cowbirds,

when the many-
headed body 

arises 
and undulates,

a sudden congress
of wings

in a maneuvering
wave that veers

and wheels, a fleet
and schooling swarm 

in synchronous alarm,
a bloom radiating 

in ribbons, in sheets,
in waterfall,

a murmuration
of birds

that turns
liquid in air,

that whooshes
like waves

on the shore,
or the breath

of a great
seething prayer.

 

Copyright © 2013 by Sidney Wade. 

Sidney Wade is the author of six books of poetry including Straits & Narrows (Persea Books, 2013). She is also a translator of Turkish literature. Wade lives in Gainesville, Florida, and teaches at the University of Florida. 

"Let me cease to fear the embrace that..."

For a Dying Tomcat Who's Relinquished His Former Hissing and Predatory Nature

by Mary Karr

I remember the long orange carp you once scooped
from the neighbor's pond, bounding beyond
her swung broom, across summer lawns

to lay the fish on my stoop. Thanks
for that. I'm not one to whom offerings
often get made. You let me feel

how Christ might when I kneel,
weeping in the dark
over the usual maladies: love and its lack.

Only in tears do I speak
directly to him and with such
conviction. And only once you grew frail

did you finally slacken into me,
dozing against my ribs like a child.
You gave up the predatory flinch

that snapped the necks of so many
birds and slow-moving rodents.
Now your once powerful jaw

is malformed by black malignancies.
It hurts to eat. So you surrender in the way
I pray for: Lord, before my own death,

let me learn from this animal's deep release
into my arms. Let me cease to fear
the embrace that seeks to still me.

"For a Dying Tomcat Who's Relinquished His Former Hissing and Predatory Nature" by Mary Karr, from Sinner's Welcome. © Harper Collins, 2006.

From "The Writer's Almanac"

"The dark thing is hardly visible..."

A Dark Thing Inside the Day

by Linda Gregg

So many want to be lifted by song and dancing,
and this morning it is easy to understand.
I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden
in the almond trees, the almonds still green
and thriving in the foliage. Up the street,
a man is hammering to make a new house as doves
continue their cooing forever. Bees humming
and high above that a brilliant clear sky.
The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.
Everything desirable is here already in abundance.
And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible
in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.
So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.
All the flowers are adult this year. The good
world gives and the white doves praise all of it.

"A Dark Thing Inside the Day" by Linda Gregg, from All of It Singing. © Graywolf Press, 2011
From "The Writer's Almanac"
Photo by Brent

"Light slips through..."

Room in Antwerp

by Laure-Anne Bosselaar

 

 

Dust covers the window, but light slips through--
it always does--through dust or cracks or under doors.

Every day at dusk, the sun, through branches,
hits a river's bend & sends silver slivers to the walls. 

                        No one's there to see this. No one.
But it dances there anyway, that light, 

        & when the wind weaves waves into the water 
it's as if lit syllables quivered on the bricks. 

        Then the sun sinks, swallowed by the dark. In that dark 
more dust, always more dust 
                        settles--sighs over everything. 

There is no silence there, something always stirs 
not far away. Small rags of noise. 

Rilke said most people will know only a small corner of their room. 

I read this long ago & still don't know how to understand 
that word only, do you? 

                        Where are you? I think of you so often  

and search for you in every face that comes between me & dust, 

me & dusk--first love, torn corner from this life.

  

Copyright © 2013 by Laure-Anne Bosselaar. Laure-Anne Bosselaar is the author of three books of poetry. Her most recent is A New Hunger (Ausable Press, 2007). She is also a translator of poetry, working in Flemish and French. Bosselaar teaches at Pine Manor College.

Of the Meek, The Strong, Poems ... "And they're gone like smoke..."

Here are two pieces by two of my favorite poets (and songwriters, in the case of Leonard Cohen). Grace-filled, literally and figuratively.

Who the Meek Are Not

by Mary Karr

              Not the bristle-bearded Igors bent
under burlap sacks, not peasants knee-deep
              in the rice paddy muck,
nor the serfs whose quarter-moon sickles
              make the wheat fall in waves
they don't get to eat. My friend the Franciscan
              nun says we misread
that word meek in the Bible verse that blesses them.
              To understand the meek
(she says) picture a great stallion at full gallop
              in a meadow, who—
at his master's voice—seizes up to a stunned
              but instant halt.
So with the strain of holding that great power
              in check, the muscles
along the arched neck keep eddying,
              and only the velvet ears
prick forward, awaiting the next order.

"Who the Meek Are Not" by Mary Karr, from Sinners Welcome. © Harper Collins, 2006. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

From "The Writers Almanac"


"Ballad of a Runaway Horse"
(Leonard Cohen)

Say a prayer for the cowgirl her horse ran away
She'll walk till she finds him her darlin' her stray
But the river's in flood and the roads are awash
And the bridges break up in the panic of loss.

And there's nothin' to follow nowhere to go
He's gone like the summer gone like the snow
And the crickets are breaking her heart with their song
As the day caves in and the night is all wrong.

Did she dream it was he who went galloping past
And bent down the fern broke open the grass
And printed the mud with the well hammered shoe
That she nailed to his speed in the dreams of her youth.

And although he goes grazin' a minute away
She tracks him all night she tracks him all day
And she's behind to his presence except to compare
Her injury here with his punishment there.

Then at home on a branch on a high stream
A songbird sings out so suddenly
And the sun is warm and the soft winds ride
On a willow tree by the riverside.

Ah, the world is sweet and the world is wide
He's there where the light and the darkness divide
And the steam's comin' off him he's huge and he's shy
And he steps on the moon when he paws at the sky.

And he comes to her hand but he's not really tame
He longs to be lost she longs for the same
And he'll bolt and he'll plunge through the first open pass
To roll and to feed in the sweet mountain grass.

Or he'll make a break for the high plateau
Where there's nothing above and nothing below
It's time for their burden the whip and the spur
Well she ride with him or will he ride with her.

So she binds herself to her galloping steed
And he binds himself to the woman in need
And there is no space just left and right
And there is no time but there is day and night.

Then she leans on his neck and whispers low
Whither thou goest I will go
And they turn as one and the head for the plain
No need for the whip oh no need for the rein.

Now the clasp of this union who fastens it tight
Who snaps it asunder the very next night
Some say it's him some say it's her
Some say love's like smoke beyond all repair.

So my darlin', my darlin' just let it go by
That old silhouette on the great western sky
And I'll pick out a tune and they'll move right along
And they're gone like smoke and they're gone like this song.

Say a prayer for the cowgirl...

My favorite version is from Emmylou Harris' "Cowgirl's Prayer" album.

"Can I witness the Rapture/ and still..."

Muffin of Sunsets

by Elaine Equi

The sky is melting. Me too.
Who hasn't seen it this way?

Pink between the castlework 
of buildings.

Pensive syrup
drizzled over clouds.

It is almost catastrophic how heavenly.

A million poets, at least,
have stood in this very spot,
groceries in hand, wondering:

"Can I witness the Rapture
and still make it home in time for dinner?"

Elaine Equi is the author of numerous books of poetry including, Click and Clone (Coffee House Press, 2011). She lives in New York City where she teaches at the New School.

Photo by Brent

"They say their names all night..."

Iowa City to Boulder

by William Matthews

I take most of the drive by night.
It's cool and in the dark my lapsed
inspection can't be seen.
I sing and make myself promises.

By dawn on the high plains
I'm driving tired and cagey.
Red-winged blackbirds
on the mileposts, like candle flames,
flare their wings for balance
in the blasts of truck wakes.

The dust of not sleeping
drifts in my mouth, and five or six
miles slur by uncounted.
I say I hate long-distance

drives but I love them.
The flat light stains the foothills
pale and I speed up the canyon
to sleep until the little lull
the insects take at dusk before
they say their names all night in the loud field.

"Iowa City to Boulder" by William Matthews, from Search Party. © Houghton Mifflin, 2004. 

Reprinted with permission. (buy now) 

From "The Writers' Almanac"

Spring Song

Spring Song
by Sherwood Anderson

In the forest, amid old trees and wet dead leaves, 

   a shrine.
Men on the wet leaves kneeling.
The spirit of God in the air above a shrine. 

Now, America, you press your lips to mine,
Feel on your lips the throbbing of my blood.
Christ, come to life and life calling,
Sweet and strong. 

Spring. God in the air above old fields.
Farmers marking fields for the planting of the corn.
Fields marked for corn to stand in long 

   straight aisles.  

In the spring I press your body down on wet cold
   new-plowed ground.
Men, give your souls to me.
I would have my sacred way with you. 

In the forest, amid old trees and wet dead leaves, 

   a shrine.
Men rising from the kneeling place to sing.
Everywhere in the fields now the orderly planting 

   of corn.

A Light Left On...

A Light Left On

by May Sarton

In the evening we came back
Into our yellow room,
For a moment taken aback
To find the light left on,
Falling on silent flowers,
Table, book, empty chair
While we had gone elsewhere,
Had been away for hours.

When we came home together
We found the inside weather.
All of our love unended
The quiet light demanded,
And we gave, in a look
At yellow walls and open book.
The deepest world we share
and do not talk about
But have to have, was there,
And by that light found out.
 

"A Light Left On" by May Sarton, from Collected Poems. © Norton, 1992. Reprinted with permission. (buy now) 

From The Writers Alamanac.

Photo by Brent

Quakers, Church Planting, and Haviland, Kansas

I had the privilege of making a trip to one of Evangelical Friends "holy cities" last week.  I grew up among Evangelical Friends -- though those good Quakers might not be all that excited about it, I am a product of what used to be called Ohio Yearly Meeting -- Evangelical and is now known as Evangelical Friends Church -- Eastern Region.  And that's where I learned of a bastion of Evangelical Bible training located in Haviland, Kansas.  It was then known as Friends Bible College.

Today it's Barclay College and its president, Royce Frazier, is a long-time friend of mine, dating back to our youth ministry days.  Royce and his faculty and staff are doing fine and innovative work at Barclay and are reaching out to equip Friends beyond their student body and local constituency.

One of the ways they are reaching out is the reason I was there (after many years of finding excuses not to visit this very small town in the middle of Kansas!).  Barclay College's Jim LaShana and his staff put together the "National Friends Church Multiplication Conference."  The conference was billed as a a "Church Multiplication Conference for previous and potential church planters, church and denominational leaders, students, and anyone else who has a heart for church planting and fulfilling the Great Commission through the Friends Church. The conference will feature inspirational messages, 'best practice' workshops with speakers who have 'done it' from around the country, and time for fellowship, synergistic networking, sharing, and dreaming."  As the coordinator for FGC's New Meetings Project, I thought I should be there.  I wanted to be other folks who care about spreading the Friendly message as much as I am.

So off I went to Kansas.  And while Haviland is hardly a thriving metropolis (population 701), it was pleasant and filled with friendly Friends and others. And the conference was worth the trip.

I enjoyed seeing this place that I'd heard about for so many years.  And it was fun to look at the photos of graduating seniors through the years -- and recognizing many of  them (well, the names, if not the faces.  But then I look much different than my college picture, too!).

The highlight of the conference was the networking.  It was especially helpful.  It was good to talk with others who had the same passion for healthy, growing, and new congregations that I have.  The meal time and break conversations were especially deep and meaningful.

I found the main speaker, Bruce Redmond, interesting and challenging.  I appreciated his piece on the "varieties of church plants" (including core team plants and house churches).  And the piece he passed out titled "Build Movement, Not Ministries" resonated with my thinking.  I didn't agree with everything he said -- but then, I rarely agree with anybody else but myself.  And sometimes I'm not sure I agree with me.  The workshops that most interested me were "Bi-Vocational Church Planters: A New (Old) Way to Start Churches," "Cross-cultural Church Plants," and "Missional/Incarnational Communities). 

One thought that kept coming to me while I was there was what do Friends have to offer in planting new congregation.  Why should we bother to plant new congregations?  What do we as Quakers have to offer that the Nazarenes, Wesleyans, et al do not that justifies our separate existence as a people of God? 

There was a lot of talk by about our (Friends) Christian faith, but not so much about the value of our Quaker distinctives. 

I do worry that some Evangelical Friends have devalued the peculiar nature of Quaker faith by constantly emphasizing the claim that we are Christian first.  I have no problem saying Quaker faith (especially in certain sectors) is Christian (I am!) -- but we are Christians of a particular persuasion. Just as Lutherans, Wesleyans, or Nazarenes are. But, if we don't retain the Quaker distinctives, what possible reason is there for the Friends church to exist? We may as well lose the name Friends and become community churches or join another denomination.

I don't think that's the answer, though. There is a renewed interest in the things that Quakers stand for.

In a small way, that is evidenced by the number of books of mine that sell -- mostly to non-Friends. Another is growth of unprogrammed Friends (the only group of Quakers that is showing growth instead of loss. It's a modest 4%, but better than the double digit losses that other groups are recording).

Another is the fact that 80-000 to 100,000 people a year visit FGC's Quaker Finder site looking for a Quaker meeting or church.  As an aside, ALL Friends congregations should be listed on it. It's not just for FGC meetings -- a church can note that it's pastoral, FUM, EFI, etc.

Another is that 30,000 people a day take the Belief-O-Matic quiz on Beliefnet.com and many of them (around 6,000 or so) come out liberal or moderate Quaker -- and we have no organized means of reaching.

I understand the Evangelical concern that if we don't emphasize that we're Christian we'll lose something valuable and part of the core.  We need to recapture the vision of Fox, Fell, Woolman, Gurney, Kelly, Trueblood and others and revision it for the 21st century. We have an ancient/modern faith that is available to all and which leads to transformed lives. To not point people to it is to miss a mission field right here at home -- a people who are hungry for an authentic spiritual experience directly rooted in the Love and Grace of God and not bound by tight doctrinal creeds. As Fox himself said, our call is to lead people to the presence of Christ and leave them there. Let the Holy Spirit work and work at the speed that is right for the person -- not to issue theological tests for correct doctrine.

So the questions continue: 

• Do we trust Christ to teach his people himself? 
• Or God to defend God's self from unbelievers?
• Or the Holy Spirit to lead people aright (instead of awrong!)?

I’m glad I had a chance to attend.  It was a good experience for me.  It was great to see old friends and meet new ones.  I, as always, needed my thinking challenged and stretched.  And the questions are ones that I will continue to wrestle with -- both professionally and personally.