An Expedition's Journal: Sabbatical Leadership Lessons

Mike and I spent 5 days hiking and camping along the Duckabush River on the eastern slopes of Washington's Olympic Peninsula. The five-mile hike into our campsite was a blend of delightful river-side stroll and grueling, lung-busting climb over the aptly named Big Hump. But the beauty of the scenery, the solitude, the long fireside chats, and the constant roar of the glacier-fed Duckabush made it all worthwhile.

Here's where we set up camp:

Here's a picture of Mike contemplating the river right beside our camp:

Here's a picture of the river where we stopped and had lunch on a lengthy dayhike into Olympic National Park on Sunday:

Here's what lunch looked like:

Over the five days, we shared the campsite and trail with a number of other people. The first night we camped next to a friendly gentleman who stopped over and chatted a bit. There was also a young couple and their son. The father was a former chef who shared his camping recipes with us. We met a couple of younger ladies who hiked another 5 miles past us, and out the next day, putting our plodding efforts to shame.

The second and third nights, we shared the campsite with Boy Scout troops. We almost thought we had the site to ourselves on Friday, but just at dusk a group of Scouts and their leaders descended the mountain and set up camp in the next site over. One leader came quite a bit later, setting his tent right next to ours long after we'd settled in for the night.

These scouts were considerate. They were polite. They were having lots of fun, but they kept to themselves. They respected their leaders. The man who camped right next to us apologized the next morning for being so close, while explaining that, in the dark, he hadn't been able to find a better spot.

Later that morning Mike and I hiked up to a waterfall, and soon the scouts followed along, where they engaged in the age-old game of "Throwing Large Objects Into the River." The leaders were actively involved, as well. They were obviously having fun together.

Eventually they headed back to camp, packed up, and left for home.

By the time Mike and I got back to our camp, another Boy Scout troop had arrived and set up camp. This troop stood in marked contrast to the first. They set up a city, commandeering most of the campsite. And the kids ran wild. They ran through our area, and through the camp of the younger couple with son. They stole firewood that couple had been collecting. They threw rocks at each other, narrowly missing the rest of us. They threw rocks into the river, splashing the young couple's tent. They screamed and hollered and played Tag all around us. They had no respect for anybody else; they were engaged in all sorts of dangerous horseplay at the river's edge.

And the whole while, their leaders totally ignored them. In fact, their body language made it clear they didn't particularly like these kids. There was no interaction between leaders and kids, except in the Making of the Campfire. The leaders made sure they showed the kids how to build a campfire: 4 feet wide, 6 feet high, doused in lighter fluid.

I know this is a little blurry, but here's a picture of the scouts. The orange smudge in the middle is there monstrous fire:

Keeping this fire going required a lot of lighter fluid. And a lot of wood. I think they used up all the wood available, leaving nothing left for later campers. But the kids were so impressed, they went and lit another fire about 20 feet away, in an unapproved fire pit. Which the leaders ignored.

Making all this worse was the fact that we were surrounded by evidence of the 2011 wildfire that burned in the valley for months. All around us stood the charred remains of ancient trees; the ground was covered in fallen trees and blackened roots. Still, the scouts kept fueling there fire with all the wood they could find, and copious amounts of lighter fluid.

Thankfully, they were gone the next morning. But we ran into the young ladies again, who shared that when they were climbing the switchbacks of the Big Hump, they found themselves dodging large boulders pouring down around them. The source? Those same Scouts, who were engaged in the age-old game of "Let's Roll Boulders Down the Hill at the Hikers Below Us!" Needless to say, they weren't happy with the scouts, either.

So Mike and I spent a lot of time talking about the two groups, and realized it was a marvelous lesson in leadership. Scout troop #1: Polite, considerate, fun-loving, good neighbors, friendly, respectful, honored the space of others. Scout troop #2: Rude, obnoxious, a danger to others, disrespectful of people and the environment, poor neighbors. And the most obvious reason for the difference was leadership. In the first group, the leaders were involved, they were interested, they were engaged with the kids, they seemed to like the kids, they were having fun with the kids. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and even told us how they had hiked up here in their teens, and were glad to share that experience with the next generation.

In the second group, the leaders couldn't be bothered. They stomped around camp looking grumpy; one spent considerable time trying to find a cell phone connection. The kids ran free while the leaders stuck to themselves. I never saw those leaders smile, laugh, or kid around. They ignored us when we passed by their camp. They projected a message that said "this is the last place I want to be."

Leaders lead, whether they know it or not. Leaders set the tone for the group. People know whether you care about them or not. People will listen to and respect a leader who engages with them. Distant, aloof leaders create groups that run wild. In Friedman's A Failure of Nerve, he speaks of the way leadership interacts with the group in the same way the mind interacts with every facet of the body. Your brain is a long way from your toe, but your brain's presence is strongly felt down there.

It may be nothing obvious, but how you relate to your people has a strong effect on the overall health of the group. It's not just what you teach, but how you relate. If you're grumpy and distant and tell people you'd rather be elsewhere, they'll get the message and drift off. But if you let people know you like them, that you're glad to spend time with them, that you genuinely care for them, the group will be that much healthier (not to mention that much more pleasant to camp next to).

The leaders of scout group #1 - that's the kind of leader I want to be. Invested, involved, genuinely caring, sharing life with the people around me, happy to be on this planet with them.

Thus ends the first lesson of my sabbatical. Here's the waterfall where the first group were throwing things into the water, from that large ledge over my left shoulder. To be clear, I'm not grumpy in this picture. Just sore.

Book Review: Help Thanks Wow

There are times when we don't know what to pray. Sometimes it's because we're so broken or lost or speechless. At other times it's because we've come to the conclusion that prayer is supposed to be done in a certain way or else it's not valid.

I'll never forget the high school kid who talked like a normal high school kid, complete with the usual assortment of cuss words, but when he prayed, he suddenly switched to High King James English: "O Lord, we do bless Thee, and thankest Thee for Thy bountiful blessings, and we do look to Thee in our hour of need."

Some people are gifted with the gift of eloquence, while the rest of us flounder around trying to make sense of life in our common vernacular.

Help Thanks Wow is Anne Lamott's effort at making prayer simple and accessible, making sense of something so deep and profound and nonsensical as interacting with the Creator God who is above and beyond all that we know.

Well, not so much the underlying truth of prayer. If anything, Lamott pushes back at our attempts to make prayer too simple, too predictable, too sensible. As if prayer could be made routine, as if it were a formula employed to make God do what we want. Instead, she reminds us that prayer doesn't make sense - our prayers are often selfish, they don't often get answered, they often conflict with other prayers. Prayer doesn't often save us from sickness or divorce or addiction, at least not in the usual way we would hope for.

And God - Lamott honestly admits to not really understanding God, and goes to great lengths to not try to paint any specific understanding of God on the reader. God is so much bigger and stronger and stranger and magnificent and mysterious than any of us really consider, and Lamott readily admits to confusion and mystery in the presence of the Almighty.

All of which makes many Christians uncomfortable. She challenges commonly-held beliefs and assumptions, she refers to God in the feminine, she sometimes calls God "Something." Her understanding of God's Kingdom is a lot broader and inclusive than most Christians, at least the conservatives and evangelicals, like. There are certainly pieces of her belief system with which I disagree.

But the heart of this book is prayer, the place where humanity and divinity meet. And this, says Lamott, should be simple. So she offers three little prayers: Help, Thanks, and Wow. (to those seasoned Christians reading this, think Supplication, Gratitude, Adoration).

Help - the prayer at the end of our rope, when nothing makes sense, when the kid has run away, when sickness is winning, when money is running out, we pray help.

Thanks - the word spoken for the blessings that come, for friends, for a paycheck, for a sunrise, for a parking space, for breath, for bread, for a smile, for a bird's song, for love, we pray thanks.

Wow - when we are pulled outside of ourselves by the beauty of an aria, by the sharp tang of a blackberry, by the beauty of new life in spring, for transcendent moments, by an unexpected treat, we say wow.

Lamott ends with an Amen, which is simply surrender that it will be, and it will be well. Giving it all to God and letting it remain there. We let go, we trust, we forgive, we surrender.

Help Thanks Wow is a simple little book and a fairly easy read; I've probably made this review even more complicated than the book. But this is a helpful book to remind us that prayer can be simple; it's an especially helpful book if you are have a hard time getting into prayer and need something fresh to push you in a new direction. Lamott is a fine writer with her own unique perspective on the world, and while I disagree on some of her conclusions regarding God and faith, I still think she has given us something valuable, if only her own take as a person struggling to find a prayer language that fits her life, her story, and her unique relationship with God.

In the Silence

Yes, I know. It's been awfully quiet here. No, I haven't given up on this space.

Life was busy. Karina was in India, and then in Seattle. I've taken a few trips to California. The kids had a lot of school stuff that needed attending to.

I was reading a few really good books. I had some trees to chop. And then fishing season opened up over at the local lake.

But really, I just got tired of writing, creating, producing. After writing a sermon each week, and a full-length article every month, and board reports and witty facebook updates and job recommendations and school recommendations and wedding sermons and funeral sermons. . .my brain just got tired. So I took a hiatus from blogging.

I hope that changes.

Last Sunday was my final Sunday at Lakebay for three months, as I've been blessed with a sabbatical over the summer. Three months of not being creative or productive. Three months with very few deadlines. Three months of open space. And I plan to use this place to let people know what's happening, both at the physical level, and at a deeper spiritual level.

For those who don't know, highlights of the sabbatical include:
- backpacking with my seminary friend Mike
- a month in Southern California with Karina's parents (which should hopefully include a trip to Knott's Berry Farm, a visit to the new Space Shuttle exhibit in Los Angeles, a hike up Mt. Baldy, and a lot of In-n-Out)
- 5 days in Atlanta for a workshop on Leading Adaptive Change in Congregations (through the Alban Institute)
- backpacking with Chris Hoke and some of the guys he works with at Tierra Nueva, teaching them to live in the woods and how to fly-fish in mountain lakes
- celebrating my parents 50th wedding anniversary
- experiencing various churches on Sunday mornings
- a personal solitude retreat in the mountains
- extended work with a spiritual director to process all that God is doing in my life at the moment
- digging into some books that have been piled up
- and some other things that are still in the works (like a trip to Montana to fly fish the Yellowstone River, taking the kids to Great Wolf Lodge)

I am grateful to Lakebay for giving me the time off, for funding most of it, and for putting in the time and effort to cover things while I'm gone. I'm grateful to the Evangelical Covenant Church for giving me a grant to pay for the Alban workshop. I'm grateful to the Lord who has led me safe thus far, and who, I trust, will meet me at various times and places across the summer.

It all begins this Saturday, June 1, although, since last Sunday was my last in the pulpit, in some ways it's already begun. And yes. . .it feels a little odd. I'm still fighting the nagging feeling that I should be doing something.

Check back in a couple of days and maybe I'll tell you about some of those books I was reading over the last few months.

Two Items of Note

I had two items published this month.

First, my regular column in the Key Peninsula News, in which I write some paragraphs addressing the issue of violence in our society. The final formatting in the paper squeezed it more tightly than I wished, but the thought is there just the same.

Second, I was featured in the "Books That Changed Me" column in the Covenant Companion, the award-winning magazine published by the Evangelical Covenant Church. I shared my love for the poetry of Luci Shaw, and specifically how one of her books saved my faith.

Unfortunately, neither article is available for reading online, so you'll have to pick up a hard copy if you want to read either one.

Shopping at Wal Mars

Note: This is not a post about Wal-Mart

I generally avoid shopping at Wal Mart. I just don't think it's a healthy practice to spend my money there.

That's not to say I'm judging people who shop at Wal Mart. That's their choice. Although, if given the chance, I would encourage them to shop elsewhere. I just don't think that Wal Mart is good for the world.

But let's be clear: it is possible to be a good person and still shop at Wal Mart. I can imagine a father or mother shopping for groceries at Wal Mart, and taking those groceries home and cooking up a nice meal for their family, all out of love for their family and the desire to share a meal together. And the family will eat and be filled, which is a good thing. I can also imagine a man or woman picking up a copy of It's a Wonderful Life and some popcorn at Wal Mart, taking them home, and enjoying a wonderful family night building up a sense of tradition and love of the season. In fact, I can imagine a person picking up a book at Wal Mart, taking it home and reading it, and thus learning something and being a better person. To that end, good can come from shopping at Wal Mart.

But this isn't a post about Wal Mart.

There are tens of thousands of people who go to work at Wal Mart every day, people who put in their eight hours and go back to hearth and home; the paycheck they are paid by Wal Mart puts a roof over their head and food on their table and medicine in their children and perhaps covers a family vacation to the coast. And you know that gentleman who stands at the door of Wal Mart, saying "hello" to all who enter? I happen to believe he's a genuinely nice man who genuinely cares about people and really does want them to have a nice shopping experience. So it's not as if I think everything about Wal Mart is bad. There is much good there.

(remember, this isn't really about Wal Mart)

On the whole, however, I believe Wal Mart does more harm than good. It puts too many local shops out of business. Causes too many empty or struggling downtowns and main streets in small towns from Iowa to California. It sells cheap junk made by struggling people in dirty factories too far away for us to care. While the food bought there may fill the body tonight, over the long-term all the additives and high-fructose corn syrup and highly-processed food substances are not healthy. The food they are selling is literally killing us in the form of obesity, diabetes, cancer, and the like. Not to mention the local farmers driven out of business by the corporate factory farm system that allows Wal Mart to sell food cheaply.

"But they're just giving the customer what they want," some will argue. And that's probably true. But it doesn't wash the blood off their hands. Wal Mart takes money from local economies and sends it away to corporate coffers and the accounts of shareholders in cities far away. The world would be a better place if filled with local shops who knew their customers, who sold local products, who took their profits and reinvested in the local economy.

So yes, you can shop at Wal Mart and have a richer life. You can work at Wal Mart and be a good person. But the entity that is Wal Mart still does more damage than good. So I choose not to shop there, and whenever possible, I encourage people to shop locally, to buy organic, to support the mom-and-pop store down the street.

But, this isn't really about Wal Mart. I just wanted to show that it is possible to think about things in a way that isn't exactly black and white, good vs. evil. It's a bit more complicated than that. But I also wanted to make the case that, while a thing might create space for individual good, it can, on the whole, still be less-than-good.

What this was going to be about: a particular church across the water from us over there in Seattle. But then I realized, it applies to a lot more than just that one church over there. In fact, I could think of a few more churches to which it applies. Plus. . .if I name that one church, we'll never get to the issues at hand. My former pastor Gary once (wisely) told me "you can talk issues and theology all day, but once you name names, you'll lose the discussion because it becomes personal." So I'm taking this a slightly different direction than I planned at the start.

Still. . .in thinking about those churches, be they in Seattle or Federal Way or Tacoma or Redding or Tulsa or Orange County, the principle is the same.

I know a young man whose life was probably saved through the ministry of that church. This man was walking down some dark roads, engaging in self-destructive behaviors, falling deeper into depression, and then found Jesus in that church. It turned his life around.

I have friends who attend those churches. Some who have done ministry trips with those churches. I know young men who are passionate about studying the Bible and living lives of righteousness, abandoning the pleasures of the world in pursuit of Christ. I know young people who engage in theological discussion, who serve the poor and weak, who act kindly and with compassion, who desire nothing more than to serve God with their lives. And they worship at one of those churches, and it has been good for them.

It's just that, on the whole, I don't think those churches are good for the Kingdom of God. I think, like Wal Mart, they deal well in volume and sales, but the country isn't better off for it. A few people may be better off, but the rest of the world is all the poorer. I think that, like Wal Mart, sometimes the brand becomes the thing, and the celebrity pastor takes on the mythical character of Sam Wal (he's such a down-to-earth guy; he's so genuine, he just wants to do what's right). A lot of work goes into defining and defending the brand. Consumer market forces take over - evangelism turns into marketing.

It gets difficult, of course, because whenever somebody tries to criticize one of those churches, or point out the many ways they fall short of true biblical health, then somebody will say "but it's been good for me!" and you can't argue with that. Or when one of their pastors sends out an offensive tweet criticizing, say, the President of the United States, and calling into question his very faith, everybody defends said pastor either because a) they've been suckered into thinking this pastor always does what's right, or b) they'll excuse that behavior in light of all the good he's done.

Okay, forget that part about not naming names. Can you go to Mars Hill and be a good Christian? Absolutely. But would the world be better if, instead of a few Mars Hills, there were hundreds of small, healthy missional churches scattered throughout the city? Yes. Can you go to Christian Faith Center and be a good Christian? I suppose it's possible. But, overall, is the world healthier because of the size and influence of Christian Faith Center, and the particular theology it espouses? I don't think so. And do these churches do more harm than good? Overall, you can be the judge. But I think so.

Pastor Driscoll, Pastor Treat, and so many others might mean well. They might be decent people. They might have started with a healthy idea of building a church. But somewhere along the way, what had been a nice little community store church turned into a cultural behemoth that cheapens society and undermines the fabric of our culture. I can point to individuals who have had a positive experience at Mars Hill. But we can also point to the consistent stream of bullying, insults, petty attacks, and manipulative techniques coming out of those churches. We can talk about the caustic atmosphere they bring to Christianity, in which each and every question and critique is treated as a direct challenge that needs to be crushed. We can talk about the men being taught to control their wives, and the women being taught that subservience is their greatest good in life.

We can talk about the bad theology, be it the particular neo-calvinism of Mars Hill or the Prosperity Gospel at Christian Faith Center, and the way it seeks to control the gospel and those who profess to follow it. We can talk about the horror stories coming out about *alleged exorcisms in Driscoll's office, the shunning of those who dare challenge authority, the blaming of women when their husbands stray, the judgment and condemnation of those who hold to different doctrinal understandings. The appearance of pride and arrogance rather than humility and service. The gospel that seeks to define boundaries rather than cross those boundaries in love. Silly but offensive tweets on inauguration day.

Can you go to Mars Hill or Christian Faith Center or Bethel Church and be a good Christian? Absolutely. Can you grow in your faith and experience Christ there? I know you can. Have those churches done good in the name of Jesus? Yes, they have.

But would the world be a better place if more people found healthier local churches in which to grow and serve? Would I recommend people find someplace else to worship and serve? Yes. Yes, I would.

If only

It's been a weekend of saying "if only."

It began about 1:00 on Sunday, just about the time the Atlanta Falcons kicked the game-winning field goal over the Seattle Seahawks, following Seattle's furious fight back from the brink of total domination.

If only the defense could have made a play in the last 30 seconds, they'd be playing again this Sunday.

If only the Seahawks had held a lead earlier in the season against Miami. If only they had found a way to beat Arizona or St. Louis or one of the other teams they should have beaten this year. Then they would have been the NFC West champs and had home-field advantage, and they're still playing this weekend against San Francisco.

If only they actually showed up in the first three quarters and played like they're capable of. If only Chris Clemons isn't hurt in the game against the Redskins.

Any number of tiny details, had they gone the other way, and Seattle is still in the hunt for the Super Bowl. Which made the loss bitter, and the response a litany of "if only?"

But then Monday morning rolled around, and I took a call from a church member who is also the local school librarian. In a broken voice, she told me that a young mother in the community had killed herself over the weekend, taking a gun to her own head to end her life. And that her two daughters and their dad were in the house and heard the shot, and he went in and found her dead on the floor.

This mother used to bring her daughters to the activities at our church. Her youngest was part of our children's group, her older daughter came to the girls' Bible study led by my wife. More recently, that youngest daughter had come to our youth group in the last few months.

Last Thursday I went to the Middle School for a band concert. At the intermission I was standing near the front and saw this mother near the back, standing by herself. You know the thought that runs through your mind. "I should go say hi." But then somebody wanted to talk to me, and the concert began again, and afterward you have to pick up your kid and it's all chaotic and you never do go say "hi."

And there's a whole new slew of "if only."

If only I had gone and said "hi" on Thursday. If only our kids' program had been healthier, and the Bible study hadn't fallen apart in turmoil at the end. If we'd been able to keep them in our loop, instead of losing them when our church went through some hard times a few years ago.

But, no. There's really no blame to be had, no great lesson to be learned. Not knowing the explanation behind the act, there's no knowing whether we could have made a difference. The only truth is that a woman was distraught enough to end her life, and she's left behind a grieving, broken family. The mind begins to run down the "if only" road, but I can't go there. Yes, I wish I'd talked to her on Thursday, but there was no reason to believe at that point that this would happen. So I can't regret my choices that night.

What I do take away is this: we're surrounded by hurting people. And we need to love them. And we need to be involved in peoples' lives. And we need to look them in the eye and say "how are you doing?" And we need to realize this isn't a game. And we need to take the chance when we have it, because there may not be a tomorrow. We're not responsible for the actions of other people, but we can at least let them know we care.

If only we can do that, then we're going to make a difference.

Lord, Have Mercy

There is so much in ministry that is functional. Pastors do things. We create things. We write things. We organize things. We preach sermons. We plan Christmas Eve services. We meet people for coffee and talk about stuff - usually, somewhat important stuff. Sometimes we blog about life and other important things. We pray, we read, we update our church's facebook and twitter status. We go to meetings and retreats. It can be a busy life.

And then. . .sometimes we just sit. We sit with the woman, the single mother, who is dying of cancer. We sit and hold her hand, and say a prayer, and offer words of comfort (that she may or may not hear) and we modestly avert our eyes when, in her confusion, she rolls out of her hospital gown. We offer kind words to family members who stop by. We read scripture. But mostly, we sit, because there's not much else to do. And we promise her that she is held firmly in the grasp of God, so she can let go when she feels ready, because, really, it's all good.

But we sit, with death. Nurses come and go, because they have stuff to do. But we mostly sit.

And we realize that this is the real stuff, the place where life is at its most real and most raw. Everything else feels like treading water. These are the holy moments. And so we sit, and, if we are wise, we mostly keep our mouths shut.

And then we say a few halting words, and head out into the bright sunshine, but our hearts are heavy, because we carry the burden of death with us.

Lord, have mercy on a friend who is going home, and have mercy on those who care for her these long days and long nights.