“The Hub is where curiosity, entrepreneurship, and leadership together cultivate an environment for innovation”.

Innovation is a word gaining buzz in many circles. It’s used for things that are exciting, new, technologically advanced, or anything wanting to distance itself from the expected or norm in our post-pandemic blueprints, but does this really speak to what innovation is?

In Advanced Math my junior year of High School my class spent a great deal of time early in the semester learning and remembering a series of formulas, like the quadradic, slope, and FOIL formulas that I’m sure you’ve used daily since graduation. Always curious, I considered what other formulas were out there that they weren’t teaching us. Certainly, there are even shorter shortcuts allowing me to skip the arduous monotony of remembering cold, unfeeling formulas.  

I found one. After spending excessive time with a calculator, pencil, and paper when I was supposed to be doing something more important, I discovered a formula. If you take a three-digit number where the sum of the digits is less than nine, and divide that number by nine, the answer will always be (move your decimal one spot to the left) the first digit, plus the second digit, plus the third digit repeating. For example, 1.32 divided by nine is .14 666. Try it. It works! I thought I had stumbled upon a hidden secret of the universe, until my teacher said that the formula was basically useless. His emotional precision was inversely proportional to him being correct.

My formula was no great innovation, but that experience set me on a trajectory to find hidden gems folded inside the things right in front of us. Using “innovation” to refer to the new or exciting is too easy. It’s not quite right. It seems, innovation is where creativity and utility meet. If you have creativity lacking utility, you’ve created art. Utility without creativity is efficiency. Art and efficiency are needed, welcome, and beautiful, but innovation is what happens when they collide.

What’s the difference between innovation and inspiration?

Innovation isn’t inspiration. Inspiration is the wind that moves where it will without announcement or apology. Inspiration can come out of nowhere and everywhere all at the same time. It can send us chasing rabbits or keep us still and at peace. Innovation, on the other hand, takes far more blood, sweat, and beers.

There is an equation for innovation. First you need curiosity. Curiosity fuels the desire to explore and ask questions, acting as the spark that ignites the desire to push the boundaries of the known and the possible. When coupled with entrepreneurship, curiosity transforms from thought into actionable ventures. Entrepreneurs, through drive and resilience, are adept at not just recognizing opportunities that arise from curious explorations, but also at harnessing these opportunities to develop solutions. But this isn’t enough. Leadership provides the strategic vision and direction needed to navigate the complex journey from conception to realization. Courageous leaders play a pivotal role in shaping the culture of innovation, fostering an environment where ideas are not only generated but also meticulously cultivated and brought to fruition.

Curiosity, entrepreneurship, and leadership creates a dynamic ecosystem where innovation can thrive.

The Church has been a movement of authorship. The crafting of creeds and doctrines, programs and initiatives has helped to shape and form our thoughts and deeds. This has served disciples well, but maybe there’s transformation needed. There is a new generation coming of age whose production of content far outweighs its desire to consume. The church is built for consumers. It needs them. Church decline isn’t generational apathy or theology that has run amok; rather the church isn’t built for producers. Instead of being the authority in the room, we should maintain the authority of the room. Instead of being the center of content, we should create an environment for producers to produce. The church should be lab, not lecture. In other words, instead of bringing Jesus to the manger, we should craft the manger for the Christ that is already being shared within a generation unimpressed with the size of our steeples.

If the church can hold the space to cultivate the curious to explore, entrepreneurs to investigate, and leaders to strategize. we just might change the world through the creative and practical talent we know as innovation.

Gracious God, Lord and Companion, we are thankful that you commune with us through loving kindness, with patience for the anxious, justice for the lowly, compassion for the suffering, and forgiveness for us all. Turn our hearts, O God, to fall in love with You. May our hearts break with what breaks yours. Hold us close when we falter, and make the path straight when we want to run. Give us the courage to open our arms to the healing of salvation, and inspire us, in our newfound wholeness, to serve friend and enemy with glad and generous hearts.

Holy Father, Father of Christ who looked upon Zacchaeus with a command for breaking bread instead of brimstone, inspire us to be people of great justice with even greater mercy. As we break bread together this morning let us proclaim that because of Christ, salvation has come to this house today. Send us out into the world to proclaim that salvation has come to this office, that salvation has come to this school, that salvation has come to this neighborhood and streetcorner and stadium and deer stand. May our joy for the Lord be as obvious as the clothing we wear so that tax collectors will know we are people of grace, and the proud and self righteous will tremble when we serve.

Sovereign Lord, God of all by the power of the Holy Spirit, increase in us the gifts of faith, hope, and love; and that we may obtain what you promise, make us love what you command; through Jesus Christ our Love, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Image: Ira Thomas, catholicworldart.com

Gracious God, through whom we find wholeness and home, free us from the exiles of our own making. Free us from wandering without purpose into knowing our value as your child. Free us from dependency on the things and people and places that only ask of us, into environments that also give and receive us well. Free us from fear and cowardice, into the joy of seeking the well-being among whom we live. Forgive us this day for the times we have failed to love our neighbor, our enemy, and ourselves. Free us for joyful obedience in your graceful kingdom.

Holy Father, Father of Christ who loved the Jew and the Samaritan, who ate with Pharisees and tax collectors, grant that our journey, O God of hosts, is saturated with peace and overflowing with grace. Help us to oppose the forces of wickedness through the power of great love, a passion that humbles the proud and confuses the powerful.

Sovereign Lord, God of all by the power of the Holy Spirit, help us to pray without ceasing and in all things give thanks. Help us to run without stumbling, and by grace when we do, help us to stumble forward. We pray this in the name of Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

In the era of rapidly evolving technology, the foundations upon which we build our digital landscapes are riddled with biases, often mirroring our own unseen prejudices. As we delve deeper into the world of artificial intelligence, specifically platforms like Chat GPT, it’s imperative to address three core challenges: the inherent biases present in technology, the learning mechanisms that further solidify these biases, and the looming threat of perpetuating these biases into future generations. Let’s explore these pressure points and offer solutions to pave the way for a more inclusive and diverse digital future.

Pressure Point 1: The Inherent Bias in Technology

It is impossible to be unbiased. Even as we dedicate ourselves to being open to a variety of voices, the very language we use, English in this case, carries an implicit worldview that is neither universal nor objective. As we transition from the Information Age into an Augmented Age, where automation and intuitive design are at the forefront, we must be conscious of the foundation upon which we build. While it’s easy to believe that technology lacks ethics, in reality, its biases often mirror our own, making them invisible to us. Thus, saying that technology has no ethic might as well mean that its bias perfectly matches ours.

Solution 1: Recognizing and Acknowledging the Bias

The first step towards addressing a problem is recognizing it. Understanding our “original sin,” the biases and systems that existed before us and that we unknowingly adopt, is crucial. We need to accept that these biases exist and work actively to counteract them. Only by acknowledging our own shortcomings can we start to build a more inclusive digital landscape.

Pressure Point 2: The Learning Mechanism of Chat GPT

Chat GPT, like other AI platforms, doesn’t start from scratch. It synthesizes vast amounts of data to produce responses. Rev James Lee likened its learning process to that of a child: a child listens, records, and remembers speech patterns, volumes, and emotions before forming words. These words, once positively reinforced, become a part of the child’s vocabulary. Similarly, Chat GPT forms connections based on the data it’s exposed to. But herein lies the problem: once these connections, especially biased ones, are established, they’re challenging to undo. An example is when Chat GPT was asked to depict Jesus with the poor, and the imagery displayed biases in racial representation.

Solution 2: Actively Diversifying the Learning Data

To counteract such biases, we need a flood of diverse languages, cultures, and voices to reshape the AI’s learning process. We require a digital “Pentecost moment” where varied inputs create a deluge of new, diverse learning. Entrepreneurs from diverse backgrounds, like Sabrina Short and platforms like NOLAvateBlack.com, should play a pivotal role in this process, ensuring a broader perspective in AI training.

Pressure Point 3: The Risk of Perpetuating Today’s Biases into Tomorrow

The issue isn’t just about recognizing the biases in AI today but also the potential of these biases being passed on to future generations. If not checked, today’s AI might be tomorrow’s educator, further solidifying these biases in the minds of the next generation.

Solution 3: Curating Our Phygital Tethics

Now is the time to shape our technological ethics in both the physical and digital space. By actively working on our “Phygital Tethics” (Technological ethics in a Physical/Digital world), we can shift the exponential learning of generative AI. This proactive approach ensures that we aren’t passing on today’s biases to tomorrow.

In conclusion, as we lean into the Augmented Age, it’s essential to be aware of the biases ingrained in our systems. By recognizing them, diversifying our learning data, and curating our technological ethics, we can build a more inclusive and unbiased future.

By the way…the text was edited in Chat GPT, and all graphics were prompted.

Gracious God, who comforts and quiets the restless and fearful, in our anxiety, give us the spirit of trust. In our worry, give us faithful hearts. Reveal to us your kingdom of confidence and calm resonating with justice and peace.

Holy Father, speak to us your covenant made through Jesus’ life, suffering, and crucifixion, and affirmed through Christ’s resurrection. Help us to covenant with each other through a forgiveness and mercy, shared in measure with what we have received from you. As your Easter story continues to resonate throughout the ages and generations give us the courage to proclaim your creative fervor, your insatiable desire for reconciliation, your passion for peace, and your abundant life you selflessly offer.  

Sovereign Lord, God of all by the power of the Holy Spirit, grant that all who have been reborn and made new into the fellowship of the Body of Christ, your church, may show in our actions the profession of our faith, and may this expression consider the work of your hands, adorned in splendor through the simple gift of grace. We pray this in the name of Jesus Christ, who lives with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

“But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!’ Then they began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do this” (Luke 22:21-23).

Is it I, Lord? It’s a fair question to ask. This year during the season of Lent our congregation pondered “Questions Jesus Asked” based on Magrey DeVega’s latest offering of the same name. Then we gathered on Wednesday nights to share a meal with each other and consider “Questions We Ask Jesus” as a companion conversation with Sunday’s sermon. “Is it I, Lord?” is a question we should ask, and often speak out loud in our prayers. We might be quick to sing “Here I Am, Lord,” but slow to ponder either how we avoid the cross, or how impose a cross upon our neighbor. After offering the bread as his body and the wine as his blood, Jesus changes the tenor of a conversation about his devotion and dedication to his disciples to say,  “But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!”

I’ve always read this moment as convicting consternation, or at least a pronouncement of damnation against the poor soul who is to betray Jesus. And we all know it’s Judas, so why be so cryptic about the whole thing? And yet, we’re dealing with Jesus here. The one who offered his life as a ransom for many, and begs forgiveness of his abusers from the cross. Damnation against someone around the table whom Jesus invited doesn’t sound much like…well…Jesus.

“The one who betrays me is with me” (Luke 22:21)—Jesus invited the betrayer in. It’s not that this makes the betrayal worse. Are there even degrees of betrayal? But it does reveal the vulnerable love of God. Jesus could have kicked Judas out. Jesus could have kept their plans secret. Jesus could have made an example out of Judas just in case any of the other disciples are thinking about straying from the mission. Nope. The betrayer is with me, and his hand is on the table…because I have made for him a seat.

Jesus goes on to say, “For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined” (Luke 22:22). Hold this for a moment. Jesus knows the cross is coming. It’s not so much that in the book of life was written that on April 7^th you will be crucified a 9:00 in the morning at the age of 33. Jesus knows that when you overturn money-changing tables, you speak truth to the ruling elite, and you heal those whom society thinks deserve the state in which they find themselves…you’re going to get crucified. When Jesus was in the garden and says “thy will be done”, death isn’t God’s will. Good news to the poor, recovery of sight, release of the captive and the jubilee is God’s will. The death part was us. Until the kingdom comes into fruition, the price for doing the work of God is great. When you push the world, the world pushes back.

Here’s the thing. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed! Woe to that one by whom he is betrayed. Woe means an “exclamation of grief”…not damnation. Jesus is not condemning Judas. Jesus is profoundly grieved. “For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!” Another way to say this is, “I know I’m going to the cross, and it grieves me that you think betrayal is the only way to see the kingdom of God.”

In Luke 6 when Jesus says, “Woe to you who are rich now, for you have already received your reward,” is not a condemnation as much as it is a sadness that the wealthy think money is the fulfillment of God’s work. “Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry,” is a grieving to know that some trust in material things, because those things will fail, and when they do we are left hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, because those in power are the ones who laugh. When you think political influence is all there is, when it is gone, you will weep, and that grieves me.

There is a grief in thinking betrayal is the only way to see glory of God. How deep God’s love for us to hold us in our fear, our short sidedness, our failure to be vulnerable, our love of talking past one another, and our thoughts and prayers instead of compassionate action. How deep God’s love for us when we flee from the hard, or when we refuse to break bread with our enemy. “Is it I” is not a self-reflection of betrayal, but the profound realization of grace that it IS I whom God loves. And can it be that I should gain…

In my previous post, The Center of Nine, I argued that the church, along with many other institutions, finds itself in the center of nine intersecting cultural circles. Three sets of three, all vying for our attention, all at once. As a refresher, the industrial age, information age, and augmented age all exist in the same space. Our shared Covid experiences are expressed through traumatic innovation, existential exhaustion, and nostalgic scarcity. Finally, how we commune and belong in community lies at the center of pipeline, ecosystem, and abiding. Three different “ages,” three different covid marathons, and three distinct ways of connecting with each other, all happening at the same time. No wonder we are all exhausted! It’s important to recognize our cultural reality, but what are we supposed to do about it? As communities of faith, how do we navigate these mountainous truths with the canoes of what we think we know?

Have you ever played “connect the dots?” Maybe in an old coloring book or an elementary school laptop or app? You know, where there’s a series of seemingly random dots, that if connected in the right order, offers a picture you couldn’t see before. In this new reality the dots are the same. There are some things that don’t change in our missional work, like personal invitations to gatherings, breaking bread with a neighbor, singing a good song, and offering a captivating message; however many of these dots are being connected in new, and often unfamiliar ways. If we connect these dots in the “right” order, we just might have an exciting, life-giving movement on our hands.

Holding the Both/And Tension of Grief and Excitement

Many faith communities are quite familiar with a both/and reality, especially with worship. Many congregations stream worship online while also having people in the pews (for more on this, check out Jason Moore’s excellent work, Both/And). Think about your weekly offering. On any given Sunday you probably have offering baskets and QR codes for online giving. You probably register attendance with both cards in the pews and google forms on phones. The both/and world is becoming quite familiar, but often overlooked is the responsibility to recognize that both/and is not just about logistics. Living into this tension elicits a pastoral response. Many are feeling left behind with the quickly changing technological landscape, and with this dramatic change there is grief.

One of the most popular gatherings in my congregation is called Burnt Offerings—a mission fundraiser that includes a cooking competition, live auction, live music, and silent auction. The silent auction, one of the top money-makers of the evening, used to be a collection of items in the church lobby, each with a clipboard with names, numbers, and bids. A few years ago we moved the silent auction to be exclusively online via a bidding app. The items were still in the lobby, but you could only bid and pay over your phone. I thought it was an amazing idea. Many were excited about the change, namely our silent auction team. When the deadline for bidding had elapsed we instantly knew who won each item, we didn’t have to fool with collecting checks or making change, and we could send announcements immediately to all participants. Unfortunately, not everyone was so enthused with the technological advancement we had made. In fact, most of the largest bidders weren’t pleased. Many didn’t want to fool with downloading anything to their smartphone, others were concerned with the security of inputting financial information into a third-part application, but the problem really wasn’t about the technology. Removing the clipboards felt like I had removed the participants, themselves, from the experience.

 We must hold in tension both the grief and excitement of this new augmented landscape. Many for the first time feel like the church is listening to them. Creating discord servers, developing space in the metaverse, and investing in digital currencies is a means through which the church is serving a new generation, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of those currently in our communities. It’s not about the technology, but it is about the connection (or lack thereof) technologies affords. So, for a time, we need both clipboards and apps, discord bots and good old fashioned phone calls. Is this exhausting? You bet! But there’s not an app on the market that can heal a hurting soul who feels forgotten. We must connect the dots between what technology can do and how technology makes us feel.

The Price of Adaptive Change

Twenty or so years ago there was a church that had experienced their “golden” years: substantial growth, groundbreaking mission, facility expansion, and influential community leadership. The pastor who led during this time of abundance was appointed to another congregation, and with his predecessor came great strife. The next several years offered division, antagonism, and depending on who you ask, great trauma. Since this shake-up, the congregation seemed to find some reason or another to ask the pastor to start packing every four to five years. Why? With each new tenure the next pastor was being asked, explicitly or quietly in the hallways in between meetings, to recapture the past. The incoming pastor’s vision was never enough. It never could be because repeating the past is impossible. It is not an altogether bad thing to desire the best practices of a fruitful time. Connect-the-dots puzzles are a tried and true children’s exercise, but if you’re hoping to find a connect-the-dots book within walking distance from your home at a neighborhood corner news stand, your walk will probably end in disappointment.  

Congregations tempted to reclaim past mission and vision are in a particularly difficult context today. As I mentioned in my previous article, we are all running the third great Covid marathon which I call, “Nostalgic Scarcity,” the desire to reclaim the past through already limited resources. Nostalgic Scarcity might be an unfamiliar phrase, but “let’s get ‘back to,’” and “This is how we used to do it,” I’m sure resonate with a slight traumatic tremor. Churches who want to “get back to” are doubling down on creating an environment to enshrine the past. It is my suspicion that our current Methodist talks of separation are the result, in part, of this third Covid marathon. Enshrining the past is not a bad thing, but it is the job of museums, not the calling of churches.

Adaptive change will be waiting for us at the Covid marathon finish line, and with adaptive change there is always a cost. The congregation that seeks new leadership every several years entered into new worshipful practices and the embrace of different experiences, and as a result, the pastor is still there. The cost of adaptive change is often loss. Several church members left when the pastor failed to invest in creating a “get back to” environment; however it seems that the congregation has never been healthier. The worshiping congregation is certainly slimmer, but also more nimble, more missionally engaged, and frankly happy. We must connect the dots between what will bring us into a more fruitful future with the recognition that not everything will join us on that journey.

Yellow is a Silly Color

My oldest daughter is the artist of the family. She had a fascination with color as soon as she was able to doodle and scribble on her own. One day she asked me, “Daddy, why is yellow a silly color?” On the surface “Why is yellow a silly color?” sounds, well, silly. Colors can’t be silly or sad or angry or mad. At least, that’s what we adults tell ourselves. I love that my daughter had already assumed that yellow is a silly color. She wasn’t questioning that. She was wondering why it was the way it was. The beauty of her question is that her four-year-old brain was connecting the dots between color and emotion. She didn’t ask if the connection could or even should be made. She assumed it, and that is precisely what the church of tomorrow must do.

In October 2020, the Disruptors podcast featured an interview with Dr. James Canton, director of the Institute of Global Futures out of San Francisco. He detailed what he believes to be the top five new technologies that will change the world: nano technology, synthetic biology, information technology, neuroscience, and quantum computing.  Each one of the disciplines, outside of being incredibly complex for this pastor’s brain to comprehend, in their own individual way can radically change how we think, do, work, and play. His point is not about the technologies themselves, but the importance of how these technologies have to work together. It’s not enough to have a quantum computer, but having a quantum computer connected with neuroscience might help us solve incredibly complex issues like Alzheimer’s. Nano technology is one thing, but connecting nano technology with biology would revolutionize surgery and delivery of medicine.

As I mentioned in my previous piece, discipleship continues to move into a more personal and isolated place. From linear pipeline to ecosystem to personally abiding, discipleship is becoming more siloed to the individual at the expense of community. There’s nothing wrong with crafting a specific and meaningful pathway for those searching for Christ, but the church must always be about bringing community together. Sometimes that means knowing that yellow is a silly color. In other words, the children’s ministry director might be the perfect person to lead the building campaign, or sometimes sermon prep is best done at the food pantry. Even better, what dots are being connected outside of the church from which the church can learn. Neighborhood cookouts, fitness classes, community college festivals, etc. What connections need to be made that aren’t immediately obvious?

 The good news is that as leaders in the church we are not called to be innovated, witty, or clever. We simply need to be where the people are. We need to connect the dots between the excitement of innovation with the sorrow of grief. We need to connect the dots between the fruitfulness of moving into the future with the loss from adaptive change. We need to connect the dots between innovative technology and the people the technology should serve. When we appropriately connect the dots we will see the shape of a cross. It may have been hard to see at first in the midst of exhaustion and rapid change, but it is our faith that it is there. How are you being called to connect the dots?

If I hear the word “unprecedented” one more time…though those who use the word aren’t wrong. We are living in an unprecedented time, and there may be more at work contributing to our anxiety than we are aware. There are nine different spheres all vying for our attention, and the more intentional we are at recognizing the center of these nine circles, the easier it will be to shift our energy into a more laser-like focus of forward momentum, resulting in a shared and much needed deep breath. I’m sure that the “center of nine” is expressed via many disciplines and industries, but as a clergyperson I can’t help but notice this nine-fold Venn Diagram moving about in the life of the church.

The Three “Ages”

            Let’s look at the big picture first.

• Industrial Age—Many find themselves in an “Industrial Age” way of thinking and being. Think about registering worship attendance. Industrial Age citizens would sign a pew pad, a registration card, or fill out a form at a welcome desk. You need to be present with pen and paper ready to go. It is tangible and intentional, and for many, the act of signing ones name is the only means of affirming presence. Most of our members and friends find themselves as citizens of the Industrial Age, the land of brick and mortar.
• Information Age—There are fewer citizens in the Information Age than in the Industrial Age, thought these citizens feel relatively cutting edge, centered, and equipped in the world of Amazon, online giving, Facebook, and live streaming. These citizens register their attendance through QR codes and social media check-ins. They are less physically present than the Industrial Age citizens, but feel just as connected to the local community. They don’t mind email or online forms, and they probably haven’t written a check in quite a while.
• Augmented Age—Fewer still is the number of Augmented Age citizens, but this may seem like the reality because they aren’t counted in the same way as other citizens. They have avatars, usernames, and gamer tags. These citizens are actually putting their phones down because wearable technology is becoming its own force. They don’t register their attendance at all. They don’t have to because Augmented Age locations have geofences and register their citizens automatically. The citizens in the Information Age go to the internet. For the citizens of the Augmented Age, the internet comes to them.

Here’s the fun of it. All three spheres exist all at the same time. If you only have pew pads many of your citizens won’t be registered. If you don’t have pew pads, many of your citizens will feel forgotten. It would be tough enough to navigate the intersection of these three nations, but lest we forget that we are still living through a global pandemic.

The Three Covid Marathons

• 1^st Marathon: Traumatic Improvisation—Everything is shut down. We’re all wearing masks…or supposed to be. There are no vaccines or tested, viable treatments. We’re scared. Our sanctuaries aren’t open. What does this all mean? There was great trauma in the first covid marathon, a long race of building a dance floor while dancing upon it. And yet, there was great innovation and improvisation happening. We asked question we might not have considered. What does it mean to be “present” with one another while being physically separated? How far does the Spirit stretch when blessing communion elements? Is online worship viable? The good news is that this marathon has come to a relative conclusion for many. Not for all. There still exists great trauma and sadness from what Covid stole. Friends and family who exist now only in our memory and the eternal heart of God. Missed graduations and milestones. Lost employment and rising addiction rates. This marathon has lasting effects, but on the whole, this race has been run.
• 2^nd Marathon: Existential Exhaustion—As schools, businesses, and houses of worship began to reopen we underestimated how much energy was lost during the first race. It feels like we are something like 16.5 miles into this particular leg of the race. Monday through Friday has never been more exhausting in our lifetime, especially for families with school-aged children, those in the medical profession, and those in compassion industries like clergy, counselors, and social workers. Though this exhaustion again led to important questions. People began to seriously consider if they are in the right occupation, location, relationship, and faith community. In-person worship attendance is returning much more slowly than many imagined because it’s taking longer to recover from the week’s activities. It also is revealing that worship was an additional “activity” rather than a lived rhythmic reality for quite a long time. Again, not for all, but seemingly for many.
• 3^rd Marathon: Nostalgic Scarcity—We are just now beginning to see this third (and final?) covid marathon beginning. People will begin to assume that there isn’t enough. There isn’t enough to invest. There isn’t enough to experiment or risk. Not only is there not enough, the capital we will be tempted to use to invest in making us feel like we are back in 2019. “Why can’t we just have printed bulletins again,” is something I’ve heard more than once. Do you print some bulletins? Of course. Do you resume printing a full color, folded, detailed outline of worship and announcements for the entire congregation that we had to clean up from under the pews every Monday morning? Never again. I can’t blame people for wanting to reclaim what it felt like before all the craziness, but there are some things that won’t make it out of Covid. So, let us celebrate and morn and move.

It would be one thing if these were consecutive races, but they aren’t. Many are running all three at the same time, and we wonder why our tempers are short, substance abuse is on the rise, and there is a great resignation happening across the board. But there are three more circles to contend with.

Moving Forward

• Pipeline—Moving forward, either getting a degree, working through grief, developing a new hobby, etc., was more or less defined by a paradigm or pathway. First do this, then when that is completed, do that. It was systematic, planned, and expected. When a cog is missing from the machine because of a Covid outbreak, the systematic and expected path breaks down. So, we move into an…
• Ecosystem—Teamwork makes the dream work, right?! If you’re out, I’ll pick up the slack. Working from home and working in the office. Hybrid meetings and zoom calls. All seems to be moving in the right direction again…until there seems to be little reason only to work remotely, or there seems to be little reason exclusively to ever go to the office again. The ecosystem begins to break down. The waste within the system becomes unpalatable, and the seemingly seamless give and take necessary for a thriving ecosystem only produces bitterness and frustration. So, we finally consider to….
• Abide—To abide with each other. We neither try to maintain a pipeline or fine-tune an ecosystem. Moving forward becomes compassionately personal. Pipelines and ecosystems have work or production at its center, but the “abide” model of moving forward is a people first movement. It gives rise to a decentralized experience like crypto currency, Web3, and autonomous organizations where there is a disassociation between workers and work. At least, to abide is to understand that we are all a work-in-progress.

What’s the point of all this rambling? All nine circles are intersecting all at the same time producing an unfathomable Venn Diagram that we quite don’t know what to do with. At its center is an industrial, informational, and augmented space of traumatic improvisation, existential exhaustion, and nostalgic scarcity, moving us from the familiar pipeline into an ecosystem that is begging for us to simply abide with one another.  So, take a deep breath, give yourself a break, and know that you are not alone.

It’s still the Christmas season, and the only reason I know this is because my children are not yet back in school. Because we didn’t have the normal hustle-out-the-door-before-the-sun-rises-to-get-everyone-where-they-need-to-be, I had a few rare Monday morning moments to myself. The morning began with reading a colleague’s upcoming conference message, which inspired me to consider the greatest commandments.

When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 22:34-40)

Love God. We’ve heard this. We know this. Deuteronomy 6:4-5—”Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” I imagine when Jesus offered the Shema to the lawyer’s question the Pharisees began to walk away either satisfied that Jesus remembered his place so to speak, or they began to escape in order to plot a different entrapment. Jesus halts their movement with, “And the second is like it…” The second? Jesus, you didn’t understand the assignment. We are taught early on as clergypersons that when being interviewed by a Board of Ordained Ministry to only answer what is asked. Less is more in such situations, but Jesus didn’t heed this advice.

“The second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'” I can almost hear the record scratch. Of course, Jesus isn’t so much an innovator as one who remembers God’s story well. Love your neighbor as yourself is Leviticus 19:18, but to equate the two as the greatest commandments seems almost idolatrous. Worship God and serve my neighbor my brain can comprehend. Honor God and be kind to my neighbor makes great sense. Love God and love my neighbor…us same verb…now what’s that about?

Am I supposed to equate God and my neighbor? Not exactly. One is never in need, and the other always is. The problem persists that we often get this backward. We too often treat God as if God is in need of our worship, praise, time, and prayer, and our neighbor should never be in need, where the goal of life is independence and self sufficiency. Flip the script. God doesn’t need anything. God certainly desires us to be God’s companions (thank you Sam Wells) but our neighbor is deserving of our resources, compassion, time, and energy. So, on the one hand, no we should not equate the two.

On the other hand, the point is for love of God and love of neighbor to be reciprocal. Loving our neighbor is a means of loving God. This is the scandal, and why the record scratches when Jesus stands before the lawyer. Loving God to the Pharisee is upholding the law (of which loving your neighbor is a part), but loving your neighbor can quickly lead to ritual impurity (as Jesus suggests with the story of the Good Samaritan, albeit in another Gospel). Loving your neighbor may seem quite counter to what it means to love God. I think this is beautifully express in the Christmas song “The Rebel Jesus,”

All the streets are filled with laughter and light
And the music of the season
And the merchants’ windows are all bright
With the faces of the children
And the families hurrying to their homes
As the sky darkens and freezes
Will be gathering around their hearths and tables
Giving thanks for God’s graces
And the birth of the rebel Jesus…

We guard our world with locks and guns
And we guard our fine possessions
And once a year when Christmas comes
We give to our relations
And perhaps we give a little to the poor
If the generosity should seize us
But if anyone of us should interfere
In the business of why there are poor
They get the same as the rebel Jesus…

In my colleague’s message she mentions the importance of opening your home and your heart even to those with whom you don’t agree, and how messy loving your neighbor can be. It is messy. It is risky. It is also delightful and profound. If loving our neighbor can get messy, then so too should our love of God. It’s still Christmas, yall. It’s still the time of the liturgical year we meditate on God putting on flesh…and we just might find God looking back at us in the flesh of our neighbor. Keep Christmas well, my friends.