The Improvisational Life

Welcome back!

Now brewing one of my absolute favorite blends from Starbucks - Caffe Verona. This time I get the privilege of darkening it with a small bit of cream fresh from the farm, and sweetening it with just about a half teaspoon of sugar.

I just looked back over recent posts and realized the blogging funk I referenced on my birthday has continued - I've really gotta do something about that...

This past Sunday I was talking to our church about the possibilities of living an improvisational life. I was thinking about the reality that when Paul has to repeat his story of conversion and calling before those sitting in his judgment, he continually connects himself with historic Judaism, but also tells how he is reaching forward. He's connected to the past, but creating the future.

The analogy that came to me (with a little help from Doug Pagitt's book, Preaching Reimagined) was of a jazz musician playing an improvised solo. He can improvise not because he ignores all the rules, but precisely because he is deeply aware of the rules of music. He knows how the chords progress. He knows how good melodies are composed. He knows how the music in the piece has led up to his moment, and he knows where the piece is going when he's finished his solo. Because he knows this, he is able to play with confidence and passion - and what he plays is beautiful and compelling.

Sometimes when we are following the Way of Jesus at work in the world, we doubt our abilities and permission to improvise. We end up playing someone else's song, written with someone else in mind, and we play notes written on a page rather than improvising the song God places in our soul. We have tremendous freedom to improvise within the Way of Jesus. We were not re-born to simply play someone else's song. We were re-born so we could play the music written on the surface of our soul.

Sometimes in improvisation you're going to hit a wrong note. Sometimes you're going to miss the way the music has flowed in the past, or mistake the direction it's going in the future. But living an improvisational life is always going to be more God-honoring than simply following some script, convinced we have no freedom to play the music God freed us for.

Start playing. He's listening.

Immersion - Fear to Faith

Good Morning! Welcome back, I'm glad you came. We're presently brewing Starbucks Kenya Bold blend. If you were here, I'd make you a cup myself, and make another one for me. All this despite the recent discussion I had with my doctor who says that some of the indigestion/heartburn, etc. that I often feel in the morning could be at least partially alleviated by a reduction in the amount of coffee I'm drinking (which is actually not a lot compared to some intake amounts I've heard from others...)

I wanted to post some of the writings from our last Immersion Experience here for you to read, enjoy, and interact with if you'd like. We explored the journey from people dominated by our fears to people who live with a dramatic faith and confidence in the God we serve.

God takes us from fearing failure to anticipating success (symbolized by the tastes of horseradish and honey):

Let’s start with the obvious – no one likes to fail. We don’t wake up every morning looking for the next big thing that we can mess up. We don’t lie awake at night wondering how we’re going to change the world with our next great failure. So often we try like crazy to insulate ourselves from failure. We do the things we know we can do because what we don’t know can hurt us. Failure tastes bitter. It leaves a bad taste in our mouths. And once we’ve tasted its sting, we don’t want any part of it again.

But as hard as it is to imagine, or for us to swallow, we often taste failure before sweet success. And when it comes to dealing with God, what we don’t know, can actually heal us. Sometimes we forget that, if we’re seeking to follow Jesus, then he is working with us. And that even in the bitter aftertaste of failure, he may be preparing the table before us for the flavor of sweet success. We may need to be reminded that in the presence of laughing and mocking enemies, he sets the table for our celebration and delight.

With God, all things can become new. Failure’s taste does not have to ruin your palate. God wants to help you taste the honey again – in this life and the next.

God takes us from fearing rejection to embracing acceptance (symbolized by the smell of rotten tomatoes and roses)

Rejection stinks. Worse than being pelted with rotten tomatoes is the lingering sense that you somehow don’t belong. Perhaps somewhere deep inside we all struggle with where and how we belong. Maybe even the most self-assured, confident individuals wonder about their place in the world. After all, it’s a big universe, with a lot we don’t know. And what (or who…) we don’t know can hurt us. It can reject us, turn us away, and set us adrift on a sea troubled with waves of loneliness and fear.

But as revolting and horrid as the experience of rejection is, much more beautiful and pleasant is the experience of acceptance. The familiar feeling of being turned away can be overwhelmed by a single, welcoming embrace of acceptance. When it comes to God, what we don’t know may actually heal us. No matter where you’ve been, what you’ve done, or who has pelted you with the rotten tomatoes of rejection, the God who created you is waiting to accept you.

With Him all things can become new. The stink of rejection can be swept away, replaced by the beautiful scent of the red, red rose.

God takes us from fearing change to celebrating freedom (symbolized by a blank canvas on which participants can paint):

You can only stare at the blank canvas for so long. It will not paint itself. Images won’t appear on its surface without the hand of an artist picking up a brush and applying the paint. “I’m not an artist,” you counter, “I can’t paint.” That might be what you say, but you don’t really mean that you’re afraid of picking up the brush, putting some paint on its bristles, and applying the paint to the canvas. You mean that you’re afraid that when you make those changes to the canvas, they’re not going to be acceptable to anyone else. It won’t look like what you think it should, or what you think they think it should.

No, you’re not going to create a masterpiece on your first attempt. The blank canvas of your life stares back at you, waiting for something to be created; you need to pick up the brush and find the freedom God wants to give you. Because ultimately it’s not your hand at work on the canvas of your life – it’s God’s. And his desire is to take your fears, and set you free to live the life of his dreams.

With Him all things can become new. Your blank canvas is about to become a masterpiece – can you believe the beauty?

God takes us from fearing loss to enjoying sacrifice (symbolized by a musical selection: “My Immortal” by Evanescence)

We start losing things at an early age. We learn to find ways to protect our stuff – toys, books, and others – from those who would cause us loss. You soon figured out how to say, “Mine!” to the intruders who came into your home and played with your possessions. We grow up, the possessions become more expensive, the relationships more complex and yet the fear of losing what’s important to us never seems to go away. Whether possessions or people, we can become borderline obsessive about our need to hold on to what we have. What we don’t know about what we might lose can hurt us, and so we cling to what is ours like a three year old to his favorite toy.

And so haunted by echoes of losses past and hunted by fears of losses future we hold fast to the known. Grasping for what we have, we fail to see the joy of a beautiful sacrifice. Believing we can control only what we own, we stubbornly refuse to freely give anything or anyone in offering to our creator. But hear the mysterious strains of the song of sacrifice, calling down from the ancient past as the cross of Christ sings to you. As backwards as it seems, Jesus says that the one who chooses to lose his life and all of its possessions now will find a greater, more enjoyable life; and the one who chooses to keep what he has will lose it in the end, because it can’t be kept anyway. What you don’t know, what lies on the other side of the sacrifice, can actually give you life.

In the sacrifice, everything becomes new. Your song is being sung, your music has changed.