All this to formally say: FTTP is going defunct (ie: this is the last official post).

I wont remove the site [at this point] but will not be adding new content or even managing the comments.

Now, I would like to point you to an entirely new and potentially worthwhile venture I’m embarking on: OpenSourceYM.org

This is a multi-author blog/webzine that focuses mainly (but not exclusivly) on all things Youth Ministry. The point about Open Source is not [simply] about software, but rather the concept of journeying together and sharing our experience so as to better understand truth in present context (more to come soon on the About page).

We’re still in the process of building content and tweaking design/function (if you go there right now you’ll see a lot of “test post” type stuff). We’re aiming for an official launch-date of Friday December 18th.

If you have anything you’d like to say, ask, contribute, etc. to OSYM drop me a line at  jon.lochbihler[at]gmail[dot]com

Peace out.

So, this past week on Wednesday and Thursday we had our annual continuing pastoral education seminars or “Ambrose Training Days” as we call them. Basically, some body of education in the Nazarene church, sponsored by the college, sets up a mini-modular course for the pastors on our district… and they feed us and pay for hotel stay, if needed (Bob and I are 25 minutes away from where it’s held, so we save them a couple bucks in that regard).

I’ve been to two of the previous seminars and they were based around Franklin Covey style leadership (apparently, they’ve been based on Covey for around 4 years). That was good and all, but this year was a refreshing change. We had Dr. Mark Quanstrom from Olivet Nazarene University in Illinois. He also wrote a book called A Century of Holiness Theology which I read when first offered a position in a Nazarene church (props to me). I would like, therefore, to reflect on what we talked about a little.

First off: I finally get the whole Wesleyan Entire Sanctification thing… or at least how different Nazarenes approach it… sort of. The thing is, there isn’t really a clearcut understanding, unless you’re an old-line Nazarene. Not that there’s disagreement, just different perceptions of the concept.  I fear I wouldn’t be able to give our discussions justice in a blog synopsis, so suffice it to say that it fits well with the progressive thrust and wholeness that, say, A.B. Simpson puts on the topic.

Another interesting item that came out of this week: Nazarenes, when they first felt called to Holiness, saw themselves as calling nominals back to God. That is, a mission to the churched to reclaim what it means to follow Christ (hmmm… fits with the theme of this blog, doesn’t it?). That brings up an interesting point: are we still called to witness to the Church today? Interesting. What became apparent, in some of the questions and reactions, is that at some point (like all the Holiness era denominations) we became more of a preservation of belief and lifestyle. For example, the early Nazarenes felt a strong call to holy living and, therefore, chose to do those things that glorify God (ie: social justice) and avoid the things that don’t. Later, in reaction to the mainline liberal movement among other things, holiness began to be defined in terms of “what we don’t do.” That is still a struggle for many today as the older generations of Nazarenes try to let go of their legalistic past and the younger ones attempt to figure out what it means to “do” what is holy. (BTW, this applies to all the Holiness movements including, to some degree, the C&MA, Pentecostals, Baptists, and so on).

Most significantly for me, however, was when Dr. Quanstrom got to tell us a bit of his journey as a pastor for 20-some odd years in a church in Belleville, Illinois (right across the Mississippi from St. Louis). Essentially, God posed him the question: “are you, as a pastor, paid to pray?” You can see where that comes from, right? With all the expectations of pastoral ministry–visitations, sermons, finances, etc–where do we have time for deepening relastionship with God OR it doesn’t seem like we are being paid to deepen that relationship and intercede for the people. But he said that is exactly what we are called to do and, through his testimony of prayer, showed how “being paid to pray” is how we should view ourselves in ministry. Hmm…

Obviously there was more to this seminar, including stuff that put me off a little, but hopefully this brings you (the immutable reader) into where I’m at in relationship to this church and denomination which I have adopted–or maybe has adopted me–for this time and place, anyway. Hope I did it justice and made it an interesting read. We’ll see, I guess. Just an add note: one thing that kept coming up in my mind was how my Alliance background and theological training helps me approach a lot of these topics. In other words, if you’re reading this, Dr. Pyles, I still consider my self part of the C&MA

~Jon

[*UPDATE: Apparently I cant read date markers and did, in fact, blog some here in 2008. Point is, it's been a while]

Well, here I am again. And I do not intend to dwell on my silence or inconsistent communique. Suffice it to say that I may post here again. I don’t want to promise any articles at this point simply because then I’ll be doomed to never write them. 

So with that I break my sabbath rest from this blog. Now let’s see if there is a proverbial coffee to keep me awake and writing too.

~Jon

In fact there have been several topics and items I have wanted to journal here. Some of these I even have extensive notes and preparation for. You see, I treat this blog as a kind of amateur foray into journalism and, being my own editor, am easily unsatisfied with my presentation of some idea or concept. Unlike an editor, I can’t seem to hold myself to deadlines. This, of course, goes back to the fact that even if I have time I don’t always have inspiration and even if I have inspiration I don’t always have time.

Actually, I realize this is quite sad. For one, whatever merit my journaling, whether a mission of enlightenment or a refinery for my thoughts, honesty and humility are freer when I’m truly candid. My insecurity is that my unpolished thoughts are going to contradict me. For another, I fully agree with Ravi Zacharias that everyone should have regular times in their lives in which to simply think. The torrent of chaos that is youth ministry (or, at least how I’ve handled it so far) doesn’t leave much room for reflection. Beyond that, any downtime is quickly allotted to recovery (ie: something mindless) or catching up with my other responsibilities.

The problem with this blog, then, becomes that when I finally settle down to post instead of catch-up on email or read about some gadget or anything else, I end up griping, to some degree, about the chaos I have failed to control. Alright, alright. This is only the fourth post here. But all but the first contain some element of my struggle with the unbinding of life–a significant 75%.

Struggle is a part of faith. I know that. That doesn’t change how I feel about it or, rather, what I feel as I struggle. And I don’t want this post to be about the “prisoner” all over again. But maybe I need to talk about chaos. Actually, I wrote most of an essay about chaos and the Bible while staying on a pull-out cot during the first few days of my son’s life. But, as usual, I scrutinized my straw-man arguments to the point that I left it, unfinished, in a notebook somewhere.

Chaos is rarely a good thing, if it ever is at all. Order, from a biblical standpoint, is an element of godliness. And yet order is clearly the struggle and chaos just comes naturally. I suppose peace is a more appropriate understanding of godly order.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to post. However, I made a commitment to a deadline, however superficial. I still have notes and questions and partially-formed ideas waiting to be composed, but at least I could get this much on the page. I would ask, then, that anyone who does read this blog would encourage me to just post. Plus, it’ll let me know if there is any interest in the personal musings that bleed onto the keyboard when I do have the time and ambition. Either way, here’s a reading worthwhile:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

However, it turns out that the guards are as much isolated captives as the actual inmates. He manages to switch responsibilities with another guard, thus gaining a different ward, yet ends up working as a guard, sleeping in individually isolated barracks, for weeks. He slowly looses the urge to make a daring escape and becomes a part of the very machine that oppressed him.

One day he wakes up and realizes that he has forgotten why he “became” a guard in the first place. Deciding to escape that very night, he sets about his duties, including bringing food to his own prisoner. Alas, as he sets down the tray of food in the cell the hungry inmate knocks our antihero over the head, swaps uniforms, and poses as a guard “just long enough to figure out how to escape.”

If I had the time to write I would craft this Orwellian dream into a first-person short story in the style of Saki. However, as I realize it has been a month and a half since I have posted, time is not something I have in spares. Maybe someday. As the story is outlined here consider this post (and entire blog) to be under the Creative Commons (with the obvious exclusion of borrowed content like the above photo).

Now take off your Freudian hats and let me explain why I brought that up: it’s simply a rudely crafted parable. You see, the concept of this blog, I think, is very noble. That is, with this journal I want to follow my endeavor to spread the missional philosophy and lifestyle among the churched. “First to the pews” is a play on Romans 1:16 & 2:10 verbally and philosophically. Jesus’ earthly ministry was amidst a people who knew scripture, had well-defined and polished theologies, and a had a religious system in place to keep them “good.” First century Judaism was equipped with all the religion you could ask for–what perfect candidates for the Missio Dei! Heck, the whole faith was founded on God’s mission in covenant so who better than these to become missional? And yet, early Christianity flourished far better outside the context of acceptable religion amongst the gentiles. Such is my lofty goal: spend at least a decent portion of my life’s effort in the church lighting fires under the pew cushions and encouraging our best equipped potential missionaries to do something about it.

Have you figured out my parable yet? I’m not going to discuss and define the differences between attractional programmatic church and incarnational missional community here (once again a time thing–that and, if writing is anything like preaching, too many topics looses the audience). But, I will point out that the “first to the pews” mindset is just a little disjointed. As I try to blend the dichotomized pieces of my life back into a holistic synergy of body, mind, and soul I realize more and more that my role as a pastor in a traditional church setting is sharply separate from my understanding of the Gospel. It’s not that the church can’t live the Good News in their community, it’s that it is far to easy to let the institution–building, finance, services, visitations, programs, attendance–take priority. And, frankly, the program keeps sucking me back in whenever I’m not looking. I set aside my daring plans and goals to do the work of the machine and softly forget the purpose. When I’m reawakened to these truths I realize that I have made little, no, or negative progress in my personal striving to be missional. The inmate becomes the guard becomes the inmate.

Blessed are the shallow/Depth they’ll never find.

If you’ve got a spare 52 minutes (or even just the first 15) watch this video of Michael Frost challenging the church’s half-hearted adaptation of mission. It more eloquently explains some of what I’m saying. I’ve got more to say. A lot more. But, as is the case with business as usual, I have no more time right now–and that’s part of the problem.

~Jon

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