Report: Giving More is Cool

I feel guilty. Our kids did such a great job decorating Christmas cards for families affected by the hurricane, and our families gave over $800 in gift cards and cash to those same families this past Sunday. Then I got to experience the joy of delivering those gifts today, which really cool but a little unfair. Every person who gave should have had the privilege of delivering those gifts personally. This post is my best effort to help each of you feel the way I did Monday.

I delivered a small gift and several cards to a family in Galveston whose home we had worked on after Ike. It was my first time to see the neighborhood since our last trip down there. The neighborhood itself is largely empty now except for construction workers. None of the families we helped are able live in their own homes yet. But the homes are starting to look like homes again, and demolition has given way to reconstruction. One of the homeowners showed me around today to see the progress, and I couldn't help but think that even if I had arrived empty-handed, just showing up today was a reminder that they were not forgotten.

We gave gifts to 4 families, including two single-parent households and a family of four in which both parents were laid off in the aftermath of Ike. When it was discovered that every Christmas card contained a gift card, I was actually questioned about whether I had made a mistake in giving so much to only one family. No, I said, no mistake. "It's Christmas."

"You all are wonderful people." If they only knew you as I do, they would know how true that is.

Spend less. Give more. Worship fully. May you and your family experience all the joy that Christmas represents. God is with us!

The Springs Hits the Front Page

A feature story on Church @ the Springs made the front page of the Galveston Daily News today. It was great to read Rick Cousins' take on our church as an objective journalist. For the most part, I think he "gets us." As a Galveston reporter, he's seen many, if not most, of the island's church buildings damaged by Ike. Viewing the Springs through that lens, he asks an important question about church: "So if a major disaster can strip a fellowship down to its essentials, to an experience that lacks both ornateness and overhead, what’s the irreducible definition of corporate Christian practice?"

That is exactly what we envision for the Springs: Christ-following reduced to its most basic and fundamental elements, which also happen to be its most vital and important elements. Christianity stripped of ornateness and overhead by choice rather than disaster. It's a great line of questioning to assess the health of any church. What would happen if the building closed down tomorrow? If the money dried up? If the committees dissolved and the offices shut down? Would a church still exist? Would it survive? Could it even thrive? We're going to know the answers to all those questions.

It's worth noting that Rick's articles about Galveston county churches do not usually make the front page. Whether Rick outdid himself on this one, or the Springs is actually that unusual, or God just decided to give us an early Christmas gift, is anyone's guess. But we celebrate it just the same, and thank Rick for his interest in us and his efforts on behalf of the Church in Galveston county.

Merry Christmas from the Simmons Family!

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Making Changes to Make Christmas Better

Ironically, our annual celebration of the birth of Christ has become our most indulgent, commercial, and stressful time of the year. But Christmas is worth saving. Join the families in our community who have committed to make 1 change in each of three areas this Christmas: Spend Less, Give More, and Worship Fully. Scroll down to see the posts for ideas in each area, and make your own suggestions that may be helpful to other families. The posts will be continually updated over the next couple of weeks as ideas come in. This could be the best Christmas you've ever had.

Many thanks to the following for inspiration and leadership in this area:

• Luke 2; Hebrews 13; 1 Timothy 6; Exodus 20
• Morgan Spurlock's excellent documentary film, "What Would Jesus Buy?"
• www.adventconspiracy.org
• Skipping Christmas by John Grisham
• How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss

Spend Less

Deciding as a family to spend less is a crucial first step in bringing sanity and meaning back to the Christmas holiday. We should all commit to avoiding debt at this and all future Christmases. Beyond that, here are several choices your family can make to spend less this Christmas.

• Give one less gift per person
• Spend half as much (total expense) as last year
• Purchase store-bought gifts for kids only
• Draw names to buy one gift for a family member
• Decide as a family that no gifts will be store-bought
• Sell before you buy (this is what I did this year. I started selling things we had and didn't need a couple of months ago, and to my surprise I raised almost enough money to cover Christmas this year. I don't recommend this as a year-to-year strategy, and it doesn't address the larger issue that spending is rather unnecessary, but it did show me how much we already have that we don't need).
• Decide as a family what you are going to do with your savings (see Give More posts below)

Give More to Family and Friends

It is possible to spend less and give more. Sometimes shopping is the least effective way to truly give at Christmastime. Here are some suggestions for giving more this Christmas, or add your own ideas as a comment to this post.

• Express yourself. Write cards or letters to family members, and tell them how much they mean to you.
• Give photos, family mementos, or small items with symbolic significance. Many years ago I gave my wife 2 playing cards, a king and queen of hearts. She still has them.
• Give time instead of money or material goods. Make plans as a family to spend time together over the holidays. Give cards that say "free date night" or "Dad and son outing."
• Give interactive gifts. You can establish a rule in your family that gifts must be something the family can enjoy together. Board games and puzzles make for good family time over the holidays. Moives can be a good choice. If you go electronic, Wii sports, Guitar Hero, Rock Band, and Dance Dance Revolution are good options.

Give More to Neighbors and Strangers

Many of us already give charitably at Christmastime, but often our kids are not involved and may not even be aware that we gave. Choose options for giving that allow the whole family to get involved; remember, this is not just giving it's also teaching. Our kids need to learn the value --and experience the fulfillment--of giving at Christmastime.

Depending on how you've decided to Spend Less this Christmas, you can choose as a family to take your savings and give it to others. Here are a few options (or make your own suggestions as a comment on this post):

• Identify a single mom, widow or widower in your neighborhood and give them a gift or service for Christmas.
• Deliver cookies or hot chocolate to your neighbors.
• Prison Fellowship's Angel Tree program (www.angeltree.org)
• Samaritan’s Purse (www.samaritanspurse.org)
• Prepare care packages for soldiers who are away from their families this Christmas.
• At the Springs, we're collecting gift cards for families in Galveston devastated by Hurricane Ike. Bring your cards to our Family Christmas Celebration on 12/21. Kids will have an opportunity during the service to decorate and personalize an envelope and Christmas card to put the gifts cards in when we deliver them.

Worship Fully

There are many worship gatherings and special events you can attend in our community, and I encourage you to do so (the Springs Family Christmas Celebration is 12/21), but don't let attending an event be the beginning an end of worship for your family this Christmas. Here are some suggestions to help you and your family worship fully this Christmas (or add your own as a comment):

• Have a birthday cake for Jesus at your Christmas table.
• Read the Christmas story on Christmas morning (Luke chapter 2). You can divide it into parts and have family members take turns reading. With a little preparation you can attach each portion of the story to a figure in a nativity scene.
• Pray on Christmas morning, giving thanks to God for the birth of His Son.
• Sing a Christmas carol together.
• Talk about what the birth of Christ means to you.

A Partner in the Community

It's been our dream from the beginning to be a church that is perceived--and actually is--a partner in and with our community. I've learned the hard way that people outside the church often shake their heads at the church's insistence on 'doing its own thing.' We prefer to partner with other people and organizations in our community if possible, and not just because we're small. If we're huge one day, we still won't want to fly solo.

Some recent developments are encouraging markers on the road to community partnership. The first is that I've been asked to serve on the Bay Area YMCA's advisory board. During the interview process, we talked about our church's partnership with the YMCA in our community. I am still amazed at the generosity and support of the Y, without which we would probably not have been able to get off the ground. We hope to add significantly to the few things we have done to support their efforts in the community in the months and years to come. The other board members told me that several YMCAs in the Houston area have churches that meet in their facilities, but few of them would consider those churches to be partners. The relationship tends to begin and end with paid rent and facility usage. In our own case, that is a scenario we cannot afford and do not desire.

We're also joining Heritage Park Baptist Church on November 30 at 10:45 AM to worship and usher in the holiday season. I suppose logistics tend to get in the way, but I still don't think this kind of thing happens enough. We are not 'this church' and 'that church' in our community, we are THE Church in our community, and we seldom look like it. I've often wondered how people who are not a part of the church process this. "Let's see...my neighbor John is a Christian, and my other neighbor Sam is a Christian, but they go to different churches, and they seem to have no connection to each other because of their faith. Hmmm..." Frankly, that stinks. The relationships between fellow Christians in the first century was the single greatest attraction factor for the early church, and we suffer for the lack of it today.

Another development is our entry into the League City Holiday In the Park Parade on December 6. This is one of our best opportunities so far to say to our hometown, "we're excited to be a part of this community!" It's also an opportunity to say that we like to have fun, which is no small point to make. We'll be decorating a flatbed trailer to pull in the parade, singing Christmas songs and passing out candy as our community celebrates the holiday season. It would be fun to be at the parade even if we didn't have a float, but I'm really excited that we'll be full participants as Church @ the Springs. We'll be living out our core values this way, much more than in preparing our own Christmas celebration and trying to get everyone to come. Maybe one day we'll do both, but I hope we never stop jumping in with our community whenever we can.

Hope In the Real World

Hope, like many things, is different for suburban Americans than it is for others in the world. We have many things in our lives that often appear to be dependable, in which we are tempted to place our hope. This temptation is a luxury most people never experience. If you've never had a nice house, if you've never seen a grocery store with all the shelves full, if you've never had the chance to make more than a few dollars per month and your government is a military dictatorship, then you're not tempted to put your hope in the economy, the government, or even in yourself.

Sunday's message was definitely directed at us American middle class folks. Even the great kids' book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, which we read on Sunday, assumes a level of financial and political security most kids in the world do not enjoy. For Alexander, a bad day meant no racing stripes on his new shoes. For many kids in the world, it means no shoes at all, and perhaps no food, and perhaps an illness with no medical care. All this begs the question: does hope work outside the American suburban bubble? Is hope in Christ realistic for people who live in poverty or oppression, or is it just a by-product of the fact that we've lived all our lives in a place where it isn't silly to expect that tomorrow will be better than today?

My wife directed me today to a post on one of her favorite blogs, which champions hope much better than I can. If you're not familiar with this blog, "Pioneer Woman" is a suburban professional who fell in love and married a cowboy she calls "Marlboro Man." The post you need to read is called "A Tale of Two Houses," and is a report from Marlboro Man's trip to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International. Click this link and scroll down to see the post:

http://thepioneerwoman.com/confessions/

Hope is powerful, even in the real world.

After Election Day

Barack Obama will be the 44th president of the United States. This news is undoubtedly being celebrated today by some readers and lamented by others. But whatever your political persuasion, there are aspects of this election we can all celebrate, and I believe we all should.

The next leader of our country was just selected by the people, rather than a judge, a mob, or a military group. Because we live here we assume this is normal. It is not, and never has been. It is our right only because we enjoy the blessing and privilege of living in the USA. I celebrate that today.

A person of color has just ascended to our nation's highest office, and two women have played prominent roles in the election. The presidency was, until now, perhaps our most symbolic racial and gender barrier, with every preceding president having been a white man. I don't think white males like me can understand the significance of this election to Americans of other races, and particularly African Americans. Nonetheless, I'm thankful that in a very significant way, millions of Americans believe they have options and opportunities in this country that they did not believe they had yesterday. They may have wanted to believe that anything was possible for them, but today it's a proven reality.

Christ-followers who disagree with President-elect Obama's policies may be tempted to disregard his claim of faith in Jesus Christ. There are no legitimate grounds for doing so. All followers of Christ should be encouraged that the man occupying the White House for the next four years says that he has an active, personal faith in Christ, and pray that God will guide him and give him wisdom. The challenges that face our nation over the next four years are as great as any in our lifetime.

Most election cycles, and this one perhaps more than others, can be very polarizing in our nation and community. We're red states and blue states, red and blue people. (Brad says he's purple; welcome the new leader of the Barney party). Exit poll results suggest that we tended to vote differently depending on our skin color, our age, or the part of the country we live in. I'm frankly tired of seeing us divided into demographic-based voting blocks. Yes, we are all Americans, and can rally around that. But more importantly, we were never called by Christ to see the world around us in these terms. If we succumb to the pull of political gravity and begin to see each other as either allies or adversaries based on our politics, we will certainly fail in our greater mission. Can we simultaneously alienate people who don't share our politics and draw them to Christ? Can we afford to imply that political alignment is a required prerequisite for Christian community?

Elections matter. Voting matters. Issues matter. When we're talking about things like national security and human rights, politics can rise to the level of life-and-death. But more than anything else, people matter -- people whose politics may differ from our own, even radically so. There is one distinction that trumps the others: we are people who have found hope and life in Christ and people who have not. And those who have not are not our adversaries, they are the prize.

Leamon

Leamon hung up the phone, threw the necessities in the back of his van and hit the road. Verizon had work for him in League City, 1200 miles away. The money was good and his wife was already gone to a training conference, so he set out to join the hundreds, perhaps thousands of workers who have flooded into the bay area in recent weeks to get our power, water, phone and cable working again, pick up our trash, and repair our roofs and fences.

Somewhere around Beaumont on Saturday night, Leamon's transmission started talking to him. By the time he reached Houston he could smell the burning transmission fluid. As his van limped into the parking lot of the Verizon service center in League City late Saturday night, the transmission refused to shift gears. He gathered a few things out of the back, left the van where it sat, and walked about 6 blocks to the Super 8 for a little sleep before returning to his van early Sunday morning. A night's rest did nothing for his transmission. He was stuck in a strange town with no transportation and no friends, and Verizon would be closed for another 24 hours. Leamon thought to himself: "What am I going to do now? Well, it's Sunday. What do you do on Sunday?" He looked across the street at the YMCA, and noticed on the marquis that a church was meeting there. "Go to church, " he said to himself, grabbed his Bible from the seat of his van and walked over.

He walked in the back of the gym-turned-auditorium and took a seat on an unoccupied row. The pastor was addressing this fledgling congregation: "we have to take the initiative in relationships. We aren't an unfriendly church because we don't care about people. We're an unfriendly church because we're all new, few of us know each other, and we're all waiting for someone else to take the initiative." Then he asked everyone in the room to put on a name tag, seek out someone they didn't know, and take a few moments to get to know them. The next thing Leamon knew, he was telling his story to a married couple. After the service, several other people greeted him and learned of his predicament.

"Leamon, what do you need?"
"I think I need jackstands and some transmission fluid."
"I don't live far from here. If you can hang around for a few minutes, I'll go get the jackstands and come back."

Hang around for a few minutes? He had all day, and where else did he have to go? The jackstands arrived momentarily, and after a ride to Autozone for transmission fluid and a filter, Leamon got to work on his van. His delivery driver came back a couple of hours later to find him cleaning up after a successful transfusion of fluid and filter. As the two men cleaned up the remaining debris from the transmission job, Leamon turned to the stranger and said, "I don't know if anyone has told you this today or not, but I love you." He laughed as he said it, the nervous laughter of a man whose real needs had been met by strangers, and who just blurted out words men don't say to each other. But both men understood.

Presumably, Leamon is around here somewhere today, repairing someone's phone lines. Or maybe he isn't.

Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. --Hebrews 13:2 TNIV

Margaritas, Anyone?

I've been keeping an eye out for a part-time job to supplement my income, surfing through craigslist and the newspaper from time to time. One that caught my eye this week was an ad for a part-time delivery person in our area. The pay and the hours were agreeable, and the business owner seemed intent on finding someone who would "represent my company well," although what, exactly, his company was, or what I would be delivering was not clear. What the heck--I thought I'd give it a shot. I replied with my best pitch about being a reliable driver and that I would represent his company with professionalism and integrity. I received the following in reply:

Let me tell you alittle about this job and then let me know if it is something you would be interested in. I rent margarita machines to private parties and company events that are mainly rented on weekends.... It's really easy and for the most part really fun if you like dealing with people and a party atmosphere. It's kinda like being the flower delivery guy everyone is always happy to see you.

I laughed out loud. I started imagining myself driving around League City with a truckload of margarita machines every Saturday. Maybe I could hand out Springs invitation cards at my deliveries! What would it be like if I made a delivery and it turned out to be people from the church? The more I thought about it, the more my thoughts turned from "fun to think about but could never happen" to "dang, I wish I could do this." Did I think renting a margarita machine was inherently sinful? -no. In fact, I've been to some parties that desperately needed one. Part of me would enjoy the job--"everyone is always happy to see you." Part of me needs the work. Part of me likes the opportunity to rattle people's cages about what it truly means to be godly, or the ridiculous ideas we have about the clergy as a separate, spiritual class in society. But all those parts lost to the part that wants people to come to Jesus more than I want to rock the boat. If I thought I could rock the boat and help people come to Jesus, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I'm afraid passing out margaritas isn't going to do it.

At some point, somewhere, there's going to be a party with a margarita machine. At this same party, someone is going to invite someone else to a Springs gathering or a table group, or give them an invitation card to the Springs. I may or may not be there when it happens, but I will applaud.

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I realize I may have opened up a can of worms (or two or three) with this post. This is a great time to ask me questions, challenge my assumptions, or express whatever thoughts or feelings you have about this topic.

The Presence of Christ in Every Neighborhood

"So, has anyone asked you yet whether you think God directed this Hurricane to Galveston or not?" The question hovered in the air for a moment like a hawk waiting to dive on its prey.

"No," I answered, "and I hope nobody asks me that."

"We were talking about it at work the other day. It was a pretty lively discussion." I couldn't even bring myself to ask what was said. If the discussion was lively, people must have been on both sides of the issue. I know people look for explanations at a time like this, but I can't find resolution in the idea that God decided to wipe out Galveston (or New Orleans, San Francisco, New York, et al.). It's hard enough to deal with the fact that God allowed it happen without implying that He wanted it to happen. I just swung the sledgehammer one more time. Standing in the middle of a flood-ravaged house, I imagined my own family watching all our worldly goods being hauled out on the curb, and I prayed. Life is truly more fragile and less certain than the fantasy we believe. Even American middle class "security" turns into vapor more often than we'd like to think.

The stakes are higher than money or houses or goods, or even health. When you've lost everything, the way the families on Maple Lane in Galveston have, you develop an opinion about God. Is He the problem or the solution? Did He decide to ruin my life, or did He send people to help me when I needed it most? We went to Maple Lane on Sunday with hope that at least three families would choose the latter: twenty or so people and those who supported them by taking care of the kids or providing food and supplies, trying to make a small dent in a giant pile of debris that used to be a neighborhood. We worked hard for a day. We were ambassadors for Christ. We did demolition, gave comfort and a little hope.

Joan suffered a stroke a while back, then lost a husband, then a son, then a house. Two weeks after Ike, her house still sat in almost the same condition in which Ike had left it. When we arrived Sunday, she was doing the best she could with her one good arm to move a few things out of the house. When we left, there was still a long way to go, but the house was cleaner and safer and the process of recovery had been jump-started. More importantly, someone cared. Someone gave Joan a reason to believe that God is for her, not against her. Christ was present on Maple Lane.

I hope we're just getting warmed up.

The Curse of Civilization

Just a few miles down the road, Galveston Island looks like a war zone. The causeway is blocked by highway patrol. There is a tree sitting on top of the Lutheran church in Dickinson. My oldest son Jacob spent a day last week ripping carpet out of a local teacher’s home that was flooded up to the second floor, while fish swam in the black water in her backyard pool. With such destruction in clear view, it’s wrong to say, “look at the bright side.” I probably couldn’t say it to a resident of Sunrise Beach without getting a black eye. Things are worse than normal. But, ironically, we are better than normal.

As we drove back into town last Monday evening, it was about 70 degrees with a light breeze, and the full moon was already above the houses before nightfall. Neighbors were in lawn chairs in the driveways, and strolling around the neighborhood with their kids and dogs. They came out to greet us as we drove in. The scene would have been Norman Rockwell-worthy if it weren’t for the blue tarps on the roofs and the downed trees. In the days since, we haven’t had dinner without extra folks at the table or a night without guests who needed a place to stay. My sons and their friends spent two days last week helping victims of Ike: teenagers doing actual manual labor for no pay because someone had a need. Sunday, our little church spent the morning and part of the afternoon doing the same. And this week we’ll do it again.

Sadly, little of this would have happened if a terrible storm had not ripped through our community. Not that it was good for us to be hit by a hurricane; no one in his or her right mind would desire this. But sometimes the things that are thrust upon us against our will, as bad as they can often be, awaken us to things we would still be blind to in our normal, comfortable state. One of our guests this week called it the curse of civilization: it seems that as long as we have gas in our cars, air conditioning in our homes, and satellite dishes on our roofs, we’re content to just stay there, each family an island unto itself. But take away the amenities, and magically we venture out-of-doors, greet one another, serve one another. We can only hope that, as our power comes back on and the shelves at the grocery store are fully stocked, we won’t slip completely back into the stupor of self-sufficiency.

I consider civilization a blessing, not a curse. But the behavior that Ike shook us out of--or that Ike exposed--helps me to understand why the Amish feel the way they do about civilization, and how living more primitively by choice protects them from selfish living. They choose to live in such a way that giving and receiving help from others in the community is a necessity of life. I hope we make a similar choice. But let's keep Dish Network.

The Goodye Edouard Party

We expected to be sequestered in our homes Tuesday due to tropical storm Edouard. What do you do if you're stuck at home all day? --Invite the neighbors over! Even though Edouard turned out to be little more than a nice rain shower, we took advantage of the opportunity the little storm provided and spent some great time with our neighbors, eating and playing cards. Everyone brought something to eat, ranging from biscuits with homemade jelly to take-out pizza, and we just hung out. Suddenly a potentially wasted night turned into a great evening of relationship-building.

One little girl who has never really been willing to speak to me before spontaneously started playing hide-and-seek with me in the kitchen last night (I'm not a natural at playing with young children, but I'm not using that as an excuse not to engage). That moment took a year of trust-building, seeing me on a daily basis, and seeing me interact with her parents before she decided I was okay. This isn't microwave cooking! But who knows what the payoff will be some day? We want to be friends rather than a strangers when it counts in her life.

Nertz--my wife's favorite card game--and appetizers aren't exactly prayer and bible study, but God is teaching me that times like these are more important spiritually than I thought for many years. Every time we get together we learn new things about each other. Opportunities to help each other always seem to pop up, like advice on car repairs or offers to dog sit while a family is on vacation. The seeds of community are planted, one finger food at a time.

Sunday's Baptisms

We baptized four young people at the Magnolia Creek community pool Sunday evening. What a great celebration! It felt very right for us to all bring our food and drink, hang out, have fun, and celebrate new life in Christ. Here are a few background notes from the baptisms that you might not have known even if you were there.

First, the parents from all three families were a major influence leading to their kids' decisions to be baptized. We tend to think that church programs or activities generally move people to decisions like this, but not so. Parents are definitely #1, followed by other family members and friends. Church activities certainly mingle in there in the mix, but God's primary instrument of life change is a close relationship with one or more Christ-followers. No contest.

Second, I was surprised to hear how motivated these young people were to be baptized, without prompting. One started looking for info on the internet about baptism. Another wondered whether it was possible to baptize himself. All four of them had conversations with their parents and others about what it means to be baptized. This ancient ritual still has traction in the 21st century, and it's exciting to see young people who want to make this public declaration of their faith.

Third, these are baptisms 5, 6, 7, and 8 for us this year. The others were celebrated in smaller community settings. Nothing is more exciting to me than to know that God is changing lives in our community, and I look forward to many more to come!

Spiritual Retreat

Wow, 20 days since my last post. Thanks, readers, for hanging in there with me. I'll try to catch up on all that's been happening in the last 20 days this week.

In June, both of our boys spent two weeks at Kanakuk camps in Missouri. It was Benjamin's first time to go, but Jacob's sixth consecutive year. Kanakuk is now a must-do in our family every summer, and now Jacob is talking about the possibility of being a counselor there in years to come. I can't say enough about the incredible job Joe White and his staff do at Kanakuk, especially for boys. The camps themselves are nice, and my sons love the sports and activities, but the real value of the camp experience there lies in this: the counselors they recruit are all devoted followers of Christ who my boys deeply admire and want to emulate. I couldn't put a price tag on the fact that the college guys my sons most want to be like are a bunch of fun-loving, sharp, energetic followers of Christ.

Many parents--and just about all kids--wouldn't believe that kids could have what my sons call "the best two weeks of my year" with all the following completely absent: ipods, cell phones, text messaging, TV, video games, cars, shopping malls, movie theaters, computers and the internet, junk food, candy and sodas. If you take all those things away, a lot of kids wouldn't have anything left in a typical day. For that matter, what would many adults have left? That's the beauty of the camp experience and the heart of the principle of spiritual retreat: much of its value lies in what is not there. Removing ourselves from the stifling noise of the everyday allows God to recapture our attention, and often our hearts. Jesus practiced spiritual retreat, as have all of our heroes of the faith. I've never met a follower of Christ I admired for his or her faith who didn't practice it.

Our first group of students from the Springs just got back from camp. In spite of the giant spider in the girls' bathroom and the terrible "mattresses" on the bunks, God still worked in students' lives. We're already working on next year's camp experience for our students, as well as retreat opportunities for adults in the coming year. Spiritual retreat can be a life-changing experience for any person of any age. Although adults may believe camps and retreats are for kids, I would argue that the average adult's need to escape his or her routine for a while is much greater than the average kid's. We adults are also more likely to respond with "I don't have time for that." Exactly. Which is precisely why we need to do it.

The Spirit of Adoption

One of my favorites from the "Who I Am in Christ" list (see my previous post) is Ephesians 1:3-8, in which we are described as adopted by God.

I wasn't adopted, and I don't pretend to know what it feels like to have been adopted. Apparently the desire to reconnect with one's birth parents is very strong, to understand why they were given up for adoption or what happened in their biological family. But the fact that their adoptive parents chose them must convey something very powerful. This was even more so in the New Testament era, prior to government social services or orphanages. Family was the first and last line of defense in a crisis. For a kid left without one, adoption would have literally saved his or her life. We have good friends who have adopted children from places like Russia and Guatemala. Having visited orphanages in third world countries, I can only imagine what the lives of these happy kids I know would have been like if they had not been adopted.

Brad Paisley, my favorite country artist, wrote a song called "He Didn't Have to Be." In it he tells the story of a young boy growing up without a dad. Then his mom met a man who didn't just love her, but loved her son as well and became a dad to him. Paisley praises him for being a dad when "he didn't have to be." Praise God today that He is your Father when he didn't have to be. He chose to be your Father, and it was His joy to do so, to "lavish " his love and grace on you, as the text says. I shudder to think what my life would have been if I had not been adopted by God!

This week, Rebecca Mourot and the rest of the Starfish Kenya team are loving 84 kids in Kenya who were orphaned and abandoned by the AIDS epidemic, but who have been adopted into a loving family at House of Hope. Not only can we celebrate our adoption, but that spirit lives on in our service to others. As these kids grow up, how do you think they will read Ephesians 1:3-8? Probably not without tears. And it should be the same for us.

What is your favorite from the "Who I Am in Christ" list? Leave a comment and tell us what it means to you.

Identity In Christ

Sunday, I issued a challenge for all of us to be reminded of our identity in Christ by reading passages of scripture each day this week from the "Who I Am in Christ" list on our website. Whether you were at our service or not, I encourage you to bookmark, download or print this list and dwell on it this week. In the Bible, we are constantly reminded by God that we are accepted, secure, and significant because of our position as children of God. It's a core belief of the Christian faith, but functionally, few of us live and relate to others as if it is true of us or true of each other. I love the quote from Neil Anderson at the bottom of the list: "The more you reaffirm your identity in Christ, the more your behavior will begin to reflect your true identity." I don't just want to affirm the truth of that statement, I want to practice it, and I hope you'll join me in doing so this week.

Muleboarding Invented!

This weekend at the ranch, the boys' ingenuity really kicked in. They found a board that was tapered on both ends, and decided to try to "ski" on it behind a Kawasaki mule. They call it "muleboarding." I'm sure this is destined to be the next rage in rural Arkansas, Tennessee and West Virginia. Check them out on Youtube (Jacob)(Benjamin). It all worked great until they decided to try it on their bellies. Now Jacob is covered in calamine lotion from breaking out in hives after being dragged through the weeds! Oh to be a kid again...

New Springs Calendar

We have a lot going on this summer, and we're experimenting with ways to keep people informed about the church's schedule. I put this calendar together, and I'd like some feedback on whether this would help you. There are a lot of options on how this calendar can be used: we can embed it on the church's website, you can access it directly from the web, and you can even have notifications send to your phone.

Please participate in the survey to the right and let us know whether this calendar is helpful to you.

The Underside of the Table

If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. From what I usually say about our table, it probably sounds that way. It's not. There are bad days. Like when one of the kids flushed a plastic dixie cup down the toilet in the upstairs bathroom. I'm sure it was fun watching it swirling down the hole--it was the perfect size to lodge in the S-curve of the toilet. I can tell you from experience that there is no Drain-O strong enough to break down a plastic dixie cup. And the roto-rooter just bored a little hole through the bottom of the cup. So the day I was taking the toilet off the floor to remove the mysterious clog, I was not basking in the afterglow of a great night at the table.

Table experiences constantly remind me of how remedial we are at relationships. One of the first things to go if you're not vigilant is the practice of listening to each other. The idea that we honor one another by listening to what each person has to say is not a self-evident truth for members of the Me generation and the Me culture. Our teenagers flubbed this last night, but we as adults struggle with it also. We can be interested in ourselves subconsciously, but it takes conscious discipline to be interested in everyone else. If we don't watch out, we can decide it's time for dessert while someone else is talking, or break into a sub-conversation at the table, or just talk too much. For me, the table is the best forum I have for learning how to value others and exercise the discipline of listening.

Still, with all our flaws, there is always at least one moment where God speaks to me. Last night, someone at the table said that they felt more spiritually grounded at the table than they had felt in bible studies in the past. I was taken back by the statement at first; after all, bible study is a very worthwhile pursuit. But it reminded me of how often we disregard the importance of a place to belong: a place where people are truly interested in us, know us, care about us, and have our best interest at heart. And we're not just supposed to have a place like that, we're called to provide that place for others. That's church to me. And as far as we still have to go, it's encouraging just to be in the game.

Published, sort of

One of my blog posts was picked up by a magazine (which will remain unidentified) recently and is scheduled to be published. The editor and I went through the customary back-and-forth of reducing the word count to fit the prescribed space alotted for it in the magazine. Since I didn't write the article for a magazine, I fully expected it to be adjusted to fit the magazine's purposes and target audience. If you've never thought about this process, rest assured that virtually nothing you read in a magazine is printed as it was originally written. However, in the end the article was also edited to remove any direct references to God. Generic "inspiration" was the order of the day, and the editor explained to me that since so many of the magazine's readers have so many different ideas about God (or god), they remove explicit references to the Deity as a matter of course. Hmmm.

Some of my readers who are Christ-followers may read this and be indignant that I didn't pull my article in protest. I never seriously considered that. I felt some obligation to consider that for a brief time, but it faded quickly. I was surprised that even the word "God" seemed to be taboo, but if so, I'm particularly glad they're printing my article. I'd rather throw my hat into that circle and enter the conversation--even if edited--than write just to an audience of Christians. I'd like people who are into "inspiration" only, who consider themselves open-minded except to Christianity, to see that someone who calls himself a Christ-follower has artistic sensibilities, that the stereotypes of Christians as lemmings or Christianity as repression just don't fit.

I don't expect the magazine to be willing to be a platform for someone's dogma. They're in it to sell magazines and ads, and my article is only valuable to them if it helps them do that. So if I, an avowed Christian, can write something that's interesting to people who don't agree with my worldview, so much the better. We'll see how it plays out.

Community and Catalytic Converters

When you say "small group," I think many people, especially guys, have an uncomfortable image in their minds of a bunch of people in a living room sharing their feelings. Last night, the guys in our group did auto repair. Blake's catalytic converter almost fell off on the way over to the house, and he didn't know how to fix it. I had the tools and Pete had the know-how and, after a quick trip to the auto parts store, Blake's exhaust system was good as new.

Real Christian community is about people sharing more than just Bible study. For us, it often starts with sharing meals, but it moves beyond that pretty quickly. Last night it was sharing tools, which is about as big as it gets in my world. I'll probably be at Pete's this week to get the grip replaced on my putter, and we're working on overhauling an old chain saw. Last week I borrowed his trailer to move some furniture. That's every bit as important as our meetings, maybe more so.

Getting Rid of the Little Black Cloud

Bad news never has good timing. For the last couple of weeks, it seems there is bad news all around. It started with Johnny's funeral and just went south from there. All of a sudden, so many friends have sick relatives or family crises. Gas is through the roof. The national economy is bad. My personal economy is bad. Bad news from another church in our area. I don't want to go to the mailbox or answer the phone--it will probably be more bad news.

What do you do when you're sick of bad news? Well, I'm not going to get drunk, so what else? I'm going to celebrate. This morning I just decided I was sick of being in the dumper all day, and I'm going to celebrate. I don't care what the newspaper says. Even with all our shortcomings, faults, and failures, I still think I live in the greatest state in the greatest country on earth, and I'm going to celebrate that today. I have an incredible family and awesome friends who have not stopped loving us even with this little black cloud hanging over our heads, and I'm going to celebrate them. I have a God who loves me, whose mercy was renewed with the morning, and I'm celebrating Him today. I'm proud of the amazing little band of people who call themselves Church @ the Springs, and I'm celebrating them today. Bad news sucks, and I'm tired of it. It's time to have some fun, whether I feel like it or not.

Saturday and Sunday afternoon, I'm DJing at the Perry Family YMCA for the grand opening of their awesome new pool. I haven't DJ'd in years, but it was my college job back in the day and I'm looking forward to it. I'm going to play party songs for 3 hours each day and dance and have fun and be reminded that life is still good. I'm going to celebrate with my church on Sunday morning, and celebrate with my table group on Sunday night. Sometimes you just have to force yourself to quit being a whiner and get some joy. If the joy of the Lord is my strength, then my whining is my weakness. It's time for some joy of the Lord.

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

I'm trying to let myself down easy today. I'm breaking off a long relationship, but it needed to happen. She just takes and takes and doesn't give as much back as she used to, and I think it's time we just went our separate ways.

I put my Jeep up for sale today. I've been a Jeep owner for 11 years; first a forest green Sahara model that I drove into the ground, then my white Rubicon for the last couple of years. I love Jeeps, and driving Jeeps has become a part of me, but it's time to move on. My family of four plus 2 dogs and gear don't fit in a Jeep, the Rubicon isn't paid for, and I could no longer justify the cost of the payments, insurance, and gas. It just isn't working any more.

All relationships are built on shared experiences, and I've had quite a few with the Jeeps. I survived the infamous hurricane evac in my Sahara. After 16 hours at the wheel, I was pushing my leg down with my arms to depress the clutch pedal. But with the windows and doors off, I had some great conversations with people stuck on the road with me all night. 150,000 miles later I traded her in on the Rubicon, my ultimate Jeep of all Jeeps. I haven't stopped accessorizing her since she arrived at our house: the lift kit and off-road tires, the congo cage on top to carry my kayak or camping gear, the hi-lift jack mounted on the bumper, performance air intake, the list goes on. Due to no fault of their own--both Jeeps have been extremely reliable--the old acronym has held true: JEEP stands for Just Empty Every Pocket. There's just no end to the ways you can modify a Jeep, and it's been one of my favorite pastimes.

I'll miss waving at all the other Jeep owners on the road, something I think is unique among Jeepers. I'll miss being approached by strangers who have a question about some modification I've made to the Rubicon. I'll even miss those days I got caught in a rain storm with the top off. I'm learning a lesson all over again, one that I should have learned long ago about cars and guitars and favorite baseball gloves that the dog chewed up. They're just stuff, and you better not get too emotionally attached.

So Adieu, lady Rubicon. It was great while it lasted, but you're a luxury I can no longer afford. We'll always have Paris-uh, I mean the duck hunt last winter.

Rural Community

The ranch house where my wife grew up sits back off of a gravel road in rural central Texas. You can see for miles from the back porch, and if you really try, you might be able to spot three other residences across the landscape. The next closest house is on the other side of a large cultivated field. It's a place where, if you don't want to be bothered by people, you pretty much don't have to be. For the past 20 years, it's been that kind of place for me, a place to get away from the crowds and busyness of city life. "Getting away" had to have been in my father-in-law's mind when he moved here from Dallas and built the house back in the '70s.

You would think that people who choose to live in this area put a high value on privacy, and in a way I suppose you'd be right. Dogs are the security system of choice at every house. You don't just drive up and get out of the car if the dogs don't know you. If you're not from around here, you get the impression that everyone keeps to himself. That was the impression I had of Johnny, my father-in-law, when I first met him: king of his country castle, and didn't care to be bothered. But once you get to know people here, you realize that they don't keep to themselves at all. In fact, with only a few families spread over the area, they all know each other quite well and, if I may be blunt, know each other's business quite well, for better or worse. One of the ironies about the sparse population is that there is no disappearing into the crowd.

For most of the two decades I knew Johnny, he had a regular morning ritual. He got up early, dressed like he was going to work (which he wasn't--he was semi-retired by the time I met him), got in his pickup or sport utility and left the house for two or three hours. He was always going "to the store in Leroy" or "to West for a haircut," or "had something to pick up in Bellmead," some sort of excuse to leave the house. And whatever his eventual destination was that morning, his route was generally the same. He weaved around the network of gravel roads near his place, checking in with the other farmers and ranchers who lived there, trading favors--and stories--with them, and slowly developing some meaningful relationships.

When Johnny died, several farmers and ranchers who lived nearby came to the funeral. I think everyone in the family was surprised by the large turnout. Some people I had met, others I had never seen before, but all of them knew Johnny and considered him a friend. I was struck by the sincere sense of personal and community loss they felt at his passing. They told stories of times Johnny had helped them, or expressed how they were going to miss having him around. They brought enough food to the house to feed a small army (and nothing out of a paper sack--stuff like brisket and ham and homemade desserts). This community of "loners" was not at all what it appeared. Even if some of the crustier old ranchers would never admit it, theirs was a close community of interdependence.

We remarked during this experience how often people in the more crowded confines of big cities endure hardship or loss while those around around them barely notice or may even be completely unaware of their loss. Population density seems to dehumanize and devalue us in each other's eyes, and desensitize us to each other's needs. We're closer together, but much more distant. We're "respecting each other's privacy" to everyone's detriment, content to be merely curious or suspicious of each other in lieu of knowing and caring for one another.

I'm happy to say that our own neighborhood experience is bucking the trend of urban and suburban life. People are peeking over the privacy fences and talking on the sidewalk, sharing burgers off the grill and carpooling the kids to school. The love and support our neighbors have shown us in our grief has been a major comfort to us. And we're aware that several families on our block are in the same season of life, dealing with the emotional strain of aging and ill loved ones. In times like these, privacy isn't all it's cracked up to be, and community is more than a nice thought or good intentions.

I don't have to jump in my truck to check in with my neighbors, but I learned something from Johnny about the intentionality of checking in. Last night I stopped by a neighbor's house on the way home. My son and I ate their food instead of waiting to get home to our own kitchen.

Acts 2:42-47 TNIV "All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved."

Elizabeth's Letter

It's been a while since my last post. A recent death in our family put the blog on hold for a while. In a SpringsLetters first, my wife Elizabeth requested that I post the following today from her:

I’ve often thought it fairly cliché when people say, “Words just can’t express my gratitude.” As someone who loves to talk a lot, I’ve thought surely someone could come up with a better way to say thank you.
Well, I was wrong.
As so many of you know, my father passed away on May 9th. While his health has been precarious over the last year or so, my family was rather blind-sided by his death. Maybe we were conditioned to his frequent trips to the hospital, maybe the doctors just didn’t emphasize how serious his condition was, maybe we were just not willing to face the reality. I don’t know. All I know is, I got a call at 1:30pm on Friday telling me that they didn’t think he was going to make it, and within the hour, he died. I wasn’t even able to make it to his bedside to say goodbye and tell him how much I loved and appreciated him. Big regret.
I also was unwilling, while he was alive, to broach the subject of his spiritual welfare, because I was afraid he would be mad at me, or there would be tension. Big regret #2.
Those regrets have weighed very heavy on me this week. (I told some friends that I felt like Sandy, the squirrel from Texas on the cartoon, Sponge Bob. Because she is a land dweller, she must wear protective headgear to help her breathe underwater. But, when she cries too much, her bubblehead fills up with water and she must attach a handle to flush the water out. I just haven’t been able to find my handle….)
Slowly, though, I have become more and more aware of God being “the One who lifts my head.” He’s gotten me out of bed when I would have rather stayed in, pulled the covers up and slept all day long. I have relied on His new mercies every single morning, more than usual.
He’s slowly clearing the fog that I’ve seemingly been walking in for over a week and reminded me that while the loss of a loved one is terribly painful and sad, it should be fully experienced, not shoved down and ignored.
(I’m beginning to wonder if this is one of the ways the Lord teaches us to have joy in Him…. I think I’m starting to understand that joy in the Lord may not manifest itself through dancing and laughing, but maybe it’s through tears and questions and trials and searching. Maybe the joy part is just the knowledge that there’s a God in heaven who hears my crying, my questions, my pleadings. And, in this case, it’s the knowledge that God already knows what it’s like to have Someone He loves die.)
My family and I have been blessed throughout it all, though; friends who have called to check on me (us); all the many prayers and hugs; the tears shed along with me; text-messages sent at all times of the day; emails expressing sadness for me and my family; the care-taking of our dogs; meals brought over, so I didn’t have to worry about cooking; even plants and flowers sent to remind me that living goes on, and it’s beautiful.
So, here I am…at a loss for words as to how best to express my gratitude. I wish I could come up with something new and fresh, something that conveys how amazed I’ve been by friends, old and new…a way to tell them they have been Jesus to me and my family.
I pray that “thank you” will suffice. E.

What's a Mom Worth?

Can you put a dollar value on motherhood? The newspaper said today that if you include "overtime," moms typically do about $117,000 worth of work in the home each year, based on current market value for tasks usually done by moms in the home. When I read that, I thought to myself, "wow, maybe I should get into that line of work." But then I started thinking about what moms do, and realized I couldn't handle it.

The most important things moms do have no price tag: being the listening ear after a hard day at work or school, kissing boo boos, cheering from the bleachers, and saying bedtime prayers, just to name a few. I think one of the great intangibles many moms bring to a family is their noble aspirations for everyone else in the home. Moms tend to ooze their hopes and dreams for the rest of the family. Often, the mom's desires for her family's spiritual welfare become the catalyst for God's work in the whole family. Our new teaching series, "Starter Homes," is an extension of those desires. We hope that some moms' hopes and dreams for God's work in their family find encouragement and help in this series.

The Bible says such a woman is worth more than rubies (Proverbs 31:10). Since I'm not very knowledgeable about precious stones, I decided to find out how much rubies are worth. To my surprise, they're even more expensive than diamonds. I found a 4+ carat ruby for more than $12,000. So ladies, you obviously deserve more than the small gift most of us will be able to give you this mother's day, but remember the immense value you have in the eyes of God--and the rest of us.

Come and celebrate Mother's Day with us at Countryside Park Sunday at 11:00 AM! Click here for more info.

Know Your History

"I remember when we had to walk to school in the snow, uphill--both ways." So goes the famous rant, the intent of which is to drive home a point about how much easier kids have it these days. But the kids don't seem to get the point (I certainly didn't). What they learn is that the ranter is an old fogey, intent on telling stories from a past that doesn't concern them.

If there is a fogey book in the Bible, it's Deuteronomy. The people of Israel are on the far bank of the Jordan river, about to cross over into the promised land. But before they cross, Deuteronomy happens. Moses spends the whole book reminding them of everything the Lord has done for them in the past, and repeating all the details of God's covenant relationship with his people. I can see this mass of humanity staged at the bank of the Jordan, ready to cross. But Moses insists on reminding and retelling all their family history first. He says the word "remember" sixteen times in the book. In chapter 11 he tells us why: "Remember today that your children were not the ones who saw and experienced the discipline of the LORD your God: his majesty, his mighty hand, his outstretched arm" (v. 2); "It was not your children who saw what he did for you in the wilderness until you arrived at this place" (v. 5). Without their stories, a whole generation would inhabit the promised land with no idea that it was promised at all; they wouldn't understand that their home was a gift from God, that the place they lived was decided by God and representative of their unique relationship with God. The land of milk and honey is one thing if you grew up in slavery in Egypt, and another if you grew up on milk and honey.

Our stories form a lens through which we view the world. Without them, the very same experiences have completely different meanings. This is true for our children if they never hear our stories, and for us if we forget our own past. This Sunday, each family in our table group will be bringing a story of God's provision to tell the others. It occurred to me while working on our story that my own children don't know much about how God has provided for us over the years, even rescued us in dramatic fashion more than once. I don't expect the kids to be riveted by our stories, and they already think we're fogeys. But the stories are still important. I'd like them to know that my low-income, blue collar upbringing was actually great; that people continue to have wonderful lives who have less money and stuff than we have right now. I'd like them to know that the generous giving of others has made the life we live possible, and that generous giving on our part can do the same for other families, or other kids who don't have families. I'd like them to know that God has seen us through, and the other families at our table also. This week, saying grace around the table will have a whole new meaning.

Next week, I'll post some of the stories that are shared. If you have a story of God's provision, I'd love for you to share it as a comment.

The New Math

Apparently, 22 divided by 2 equals 35. That was the math this weekend as we celebrated the birth of a new neighborhood table. Our 22 people at a recent table gathering was the signal that it was time to start a new group in the neighborhood adjacent to ours. But instead of ending up with 2 groups of 11, we had 17 at our table and the new table had 18. I'm not hung up on numbers, but the stories behind them were significant. Here are a few highlights:

• We discovered that there were people who would participate in a group if it was even closer to their home. "Pedestrian scale" - being within walking distance of someone's home - is significant even if the family still drives to the table. This tells us that having more tables covering smaller geographical areas is important. This thing will snowball as more new tables begin.
• People who have not attended a Sunday service at the Springs, and may or may not attend one any time soon, are participating in the new table. While we would love for everyone to attend our services, it is becoming clear that neighborhood life is the place where people are connecting, more than services. It is likely that in the near future, attendance at our tables will be greater than attendance at our services. If you take into account that the tables occur twice as often, attendance is already about equal, and tables are growing at a faster pace. Growth of the tables will drive attendance at services, not the other way around.
• There are probably people who think that neighborhood life is somehow easier for Brad and me because we're pastors. WRONG. We discovered that many people in our community would rather be in groups that do not include us. As soon as a group opened up close to them that did not have a pastor in it, people jumped in. Those of us on church staff are often the least effective in reaching people in our community because of the "clergy" stigma. Brad and I hate the clergy stigma and rebel against it, but it still exists. So all you "lay people" out there, take advantage of the opportunities you have!
• Starting a new group was a contagious win, not a grieved loss. Two families left our existing group to start the new one; instead of sadness over "losing" these families, the predominant feeling at our table yesterday was excitement; two more families are now more excited about their own opportunity to start tables in the near future.

By dividing our table, we added to our involvement and multiplied our potential to love our neighbors. It's the new math!

Several weeks ago, our table decided to purchase some cheap, kid-proof dishes that were washable, instead of going through a bunch of paper goods every time we met. We decided to give our dishes to the new group as a gift to encourage them in their new endeavor. So I presented the new group with their birthday present yesterday, and encouraged them to do the same for the next group that starts.

I hope Target and Wall Mart start getting a lot of cheap housewares business!

Tables Are Turning

This weekend is a landmark in the life of our fledgling church, as a new neighborhood table is scheduled to meet for the first time. A couple of other tables should begin also in the near future. I have waited and prayed for this moment for a long time, and I am excited to see it happen.

For the most part, our "original" tables were formed by organizing people into groups according to where they lived. The economies of scale when we started the church meant that we had three groups covering relatively large areas; in my particular case the group covered more than three subdivisions. This was a good start for us, but it isn't the end game. With the establishment of a new group this weekend, we will have our first group that is focused exclusively on a single neighborhood, and a second group in that neighborhood is likely to form there in the near future. This is significant for several reasons:

• Frequency of interaction increases as the physical proximity of group members gets closer. People see each other in the front yard or at the park. Their kids go to the same schools, and may even be in the same classes. Informal and spontaneous interaction is jet fuel for relationships.
• Neighborhood life is easier. "Pedestrian Scale" community--where group members are within walking distance of each other--means that instead of packing up the family for a meeting, you're just walking over to the Jones's place.
• Awareness increases. Because of the increased interaction, you know more about what is happening in other families' lives. You become more aware of needs in those families that you can meet, and they become more aware of yours. Things like car pools, play days at the park, and gatherings of 1 or 2 group members or families are now realistic. When a more serious need arises, families tend to know about it.
• The table becomes accessible to the neighborhood. This may be the most important of all. I've noticed over recent weeks that my immediate neighbors have "come by" the house several times when the table was meeting, but they seldom stay because most of the people in our house at that time are unfamiliar to them. When your table is truly in your neighborhood, it's accessible to neighbors who aren't already participating in neighborhood life. The table becomes an effective base for ministry to the community, as it should be, instead of being perceived as a church meeting that is more exclusive. It's accessible to Springs participants, people who attend other churches, and people who don't attend church at all.

One day it will be impossible for someone to live in Brittany Lakes, Bay Colony, The Landing, Rustic Oaks or Riverbend Apartments without experiencing the presence of Christ in their neighborhood. People won't be able to live here without someone caring about them and loving them in Jesus' name. They'll have opportunities to belong, play, grow and serve with people who are becoming Springs in their community. We're not there yet, but this weekend we're one big step closer!

Slime Time

My in-laws live on a ranch in central Texas. It's been one of my favorite places since my college days, when I used to run out there after classes to fish in the stock tanks or go dove hunting. But when you're driving around on the ranch, you have to watch out for mesquite thorns. Mesquite trees, even small ones, often have thorns over 3 inches long, and they go through a tire like a hot knife goes through butter.

My father-in-law has become a big fan of Slime, the green goo you can inject into any tire to prevent flats. The Slime coats the inside of the tire, immediately filling any puncture wound from mesquite thorns. Every truck, tractor, and lawnmower tire on the ranch has Slime sloshing around inside, just in case.

Activity is the slime of our lives. There is always a large pool of possible activities sloshing around, waiting for the first opening in our schedules to insert itself. Oh, look! We had a cancellation at 6:00 PM on Tuesday. The first question that comes to mind is, "What will we do?" And so the slime oozes right in. We're convinced our lives will go flat without it, but they won't. In fact, our lives roll along a little better if we let a little fresh air in.

Take a look at your family schedule. Is there an opening this week, when everyone is together at home in the evening? If not, you have been slimed! If so, resist the temptation to slime, and hold that time slot open for family dinner, board game night or an evening with the neighbors. It won't be easy. You may be so accustomed to living in slime that fresh air will feel foreign and uncomfortable to you. You may have forgotten how to have a conversation, or just hang out. You'll want to just watch TV and veg out, the ultimate slime of all slimes. But if you'll push through those feelings and engage your family, friends or neighbors instead, you'll feel the fresh air start to come in. Slime is...well, it's slime, but you don't realize how disgusting it really is until you've experienced life for a while without it.

UPDATE: As it turned out, Tuesday night was open on our schedule and I had just written this post. We knew of a family on our street in which the dad was out of the country this week on business, and we knew the mom had her hands full with 4 kids. So I grilled burgers and we invited them over for dinner last night. Awesome. Relaxation, good conversation, and service all rolled into one dinner time. "Simple. Refreshing. Connecting." I felt like these words we use at the Springs were very true of our lives last night. Say no to slime and give it a try!

The Springs Gives Back

Although it's not the most important thing about the Springs, the most attention-getting aspect of our church is the fact that we don't have services every week. A consultant recently called it "gutsy." Many people think we probably just don't have enough resources to have weekly services. Others just think we're weird. I'd like to offer another explanation: The Springs Gives Back.

For the past two services (which is three weeks, since we don't have a service every Sunday), we've been talking about margin in life, particularly time margin. Time is the most precious commodity in our community. I would argue that it's more precious than money: you can't get more than 24 hours each day. People in our community, if they can afford it, often use money to buy time: by hiring lawn services and house cleaners, by hiring day care and child care, purchasing airline tickets, and the like. Time is so valuable that anything fast is also valuable: fast internet, fast cars, fast food, microwave ovens. "Multitasking" has become a buzzword because of its time promise. We're even willing to jeopardize our health to get more time, by getting less sleep or trying to squeeze more into our days.

Competition for your time is fierce. Everyone seems to want some. Most church leaders, including me, have usually seen this as a competition we must join. Whoever gets your time wins. When I was a kid, churches often required 4 or 5 time slots each week for the faithful: Sunday School and worship, Sunday evening services, committee meetings, weeknight prayer meeting, and perhaps neighborhood visitation. But the church has been losing the time war: she now has a white-knuckle grip on Sunday morning--her valiant last stand--while the beach, professional sports, and kids' soccer leagues are trying to pry those fingers off one by one. How is she doing? -80% of churches' Sunday morning services have declining attendance.

Rather than begging for people's time, or attempting to use spiritual authority to demand it, or enticing people to church with the promise that it will be more fun or entertaining than all other options, we have decided to try something new. We're giving time back. We're still sounding the alarm that we collectively stink when it comes to how we allocate our time. But instead of joining the fray, we're learning and teaching simplicity, sanity, and relationships as Biblical life principles.

So what do you do with 2 or 3 Sunday mornings each month and no church services? Hopefully the things church is really all about, whether you're in a "service" or not. Spending time with God, investing in family, friends and neighbors, serving people in need. No time to get to know your neighbors or serve the poor? No time to invest in biblical community with other Christians? No time to actually do Christianity instead of talk about it? We can give you at least 2 time slots per month, each lasting from 4 to 6 hours. Compliments of Church at the Springs.

If you want something done...

"You know the old saying," says Gary Zeiss, a 50-year old attorney from LA. "If you want something done, give it to a busy person." Gary spoke these words on a night when his family met for dinner...at 10:20 PM, after a day completely crammed full of work, school, and extra-curricular activities. Mr. Zeiss, his wife and two children live a life that can accurately be described as insanely busy, and intentionally so. Why?--because society rewards multi-taskers and over-achievers, right? That was the Zeiss rationale to the AP reporter who attempted to keep up with them for a day.

With the "Life In the Margins" series, I am aware that we are swimming against a strong and deep current in American life, and many of you may be tempted to dismiss it as unrealistic. We're collectively convinced that the most successful among us are the workaholics, that if we are just willing to work longer hours than the next guy, success is bound to be ours. We hear that the greatest athletes are obsessed with their sport, coming to practice early and being the last to leave. Their great coaches practically live at the field house, pouring over film all night and neglecting their families. The great businessmen and women are driven to pursue success 24 hours a day. Great achievement requires everything--it's so obvious to us that it doesn't even need to be discussed. So 70-hour weeks are just what it takes. And it's a given that our kids have to give all their discretionary time to extra-curricular activities. And it's as plain as the nose on your face that if you want to be exceptional, you have to live like the Zeiss family. I don't know who started this rumor. Must have been some tired, stressed out workaholic who wanted to justify his lifestyle. Almost everyone believed it, so it must have worked.

I met a friend for coffee not long ago and he asked me about a job offer he was considering. It was lucrative, but required a time commitment that would change his whole family's life. He said, "This is just how it is at this pay scale. If you want to make top money, you have to put in these kinds of hours, right?" Not having ever been in that tax bracket, I couldn't speak from personal experience. I think I mumbled some mild cautions, but pretty much took him at his word. Who was I to argue? Maybe he was right. Well, as it turns out, the hours were even longer and the money more scarce than advertised (surprise). After a lot of stress, conflict, and family sacrifice, my friend picked up what was left of his life and moved on...to another job, equally lucrative but sane. Yes, such jobs do exist. And I owe him an apology for not saying more before he jumped into the quagmire in the first place.

The most successful people in the world do not sell their souls to the company. Hear corporate guru Warren Bennis talking about us ambitious types in his classic study of great CEOs and COOs called Co-Leaders: "Too often ambitious adjuncts make a Faustian bargain. They give up everything else in pursuit of top billing. They lose touch with their spouses. They become strangers to their children. They turn their backs on work that might bring them real satisfaction.... Avocations are forgotten. Friends drop away. In extreme cases, parents are lost and barely mourned. While many apparently successful people are able to live this way for long periods of time, they ultimately pay a terrible price.... At some point, their obsessive ambition has cost them soul and substance." He goes on to describe some of America's most successful businesspeople who refuse to make the "Faustian bargain." Among the examples: Steven Spielberg, who insisted on family time built into his schedule before he agreed to join Dreamworks; and Intel CEO Craig Barret, who refused to live in California where his headquarters was located--he commuted in once a week from Phoenix to prevent the job from gobbling up his life, and ran away to a ranch in Montana once a month to intentionally become out of reach. These guys are not just milking their companies for leisure lifestyles; they are among the most effective and successful leaders of our day. Bennis observes this trait so often in top business leaders that he lists "self possession and independence" as marks of great leadership.

So, if you really want to get something done, give it to a well-rounded, balanced person who has a life. Her family life and healthy relationships with friends and neighbors will make her better at her job than the burned-out workaholic who lives for the paycheck. His time away from the job actually makes him better when he's on the job. And since people with "margin" in their lives don't live just to get "top billing," they can actually care about the company they work for and not just about themselves. Margin is not in conflict with the American Dream. It is the lost ingredient of the dream that turned it into a nightmare.

We've reached the 1,000 Mark!

Thanks to you, we've now surpassed 1,000 readers on the Springs Letters blog! I hope this is just the first of many landmarks we'll pass by as we build an online community of people interested in living the Christ-life in all its fullness.

In honor of this occasion, I asked 200 of my closest friends to "do something special," so they posed for the photo above. I told them it was a bit over-the-top for them to all bow in reverence like that; they responded that they were actually all mooning me in unison. At least they did it in a 1,000 formation. Now I'm wondering why all my friends have matching blue jumpsuits...

I hope you'll take a moment to celebrate with me today by enjoying an ice-cold Dr. Pepper, doing nothing particularly productive for 10 minutes, and leaving a comment telling us why you are a Springs Letters reader/commenter. I would love to know what brings you here and what we can talk about that will mean something to you and spur us all on toward love and good deeds.

Thank you thank you thank you! Now on to 2,000.