the drum|rob fairbanks

Prodigal Christianity: 10 Signposts into the Missional Frontier

Over the last couple of months I’ve had the privilege of reading the book “Prodigal Christianity” with a group of my friends here in Spokane. All of them are good thinkers and we had a wonderful time processing the ideas by Dave Fitch and Geoff Holsclaw. 

The book is really an attempt to locate a way forward that is truly prodigal in today's Christianity, a third way if you will. A writing device the authors employed is a cyclical juxtaposition between a Neo-Reform perspective of Christianity (Piper, Keller, et al) and a more “Emergent” version (McLaren and Jones). Honestly, a device I am not entirely thrilled with and I would suspect the authors represented in the book probably were not wild about either. Nonetheless, while looking at both of these poled perspectives they seek to mine out an alternative way for the church to move forward in the undulating social challenges of Western society.

The authors capably lay out a progression of ideas tethered to the idea of Barth’s “Far Country.” They move from a theological orientation or baseline to the more practical issues such as homosexuality and social justice (both chapters are probably worth the price of the book), both I deeply appreciated. They refer to “Signposts” that assist us to navigate both the church and “powder keg” issues we currently face as Christians in the U.S.

As far as full disclosure, I must say that I've appreciated Dave Fitch’s ideas before I read this book (The Great Giveaway) and am a causal acquaintance of both authors. I have great appreciation and admiration for both of them. You can locate both men’s personal blogs at…Fitch - Reclaiming Mission & Holsclaw - Into the Far Country

One of the key elements of the book for me was the nuanced challenge to be present in every situation trusting God is there before us, an idea often called prevenience. I honestly think if each Christian person I know could embrace the idea that they are expounding it would change Christianity. I know that sounds like a stretch, but I truly beleive it. In Signpost #2, the missio Dei, Fitch vulnerably writes about learning how to pray for his neighbors;

"I had in mind that this meant to pray for my friends to somehow see their need for God's forgiveness and that I would have an opportunity to give them the answer: the gospel of being forgiven from sin. The friend challenging me said, 'No, God is already working there, in each person's life. Just pray that you will have eyes to see what God is doing so you can participate with a word, or a prayer, with laughter, or a tear.'  If the Triune God is already in mission, then I need to see the world in which I regularly walk as the arenas of the Spirit – places imbued with the presence of God. This was a fundamental shift. It changed the way I walked into every space of my life. Missio Dei means that God is already at work in our lives and the lives of all around us."

The other bit that I found quite significant about the book is the author's insistence that these issues that all of us face must be worked out in a local context, the local church. All of the jockeying for influence on the net or in celebrity Christianity is doing nothing more than exacerbating the problems that we have. These issues must be worked out with real people, in real time, in a real location. I could not concur more.

In summary, I would recommend this book with great enthusiasm to anyone trying to navigate the nuances of what it means to live life on mission in a postmodern context. Both Fitch and Holsclaw have grasped the idea that being a Christian today isn't about reactivity or in finding yourself in some sort of theological entrenchment, but in moving  into the “far country,” being prodigal in a nonreactive, loving, open…local way.

r

Listening = Love

You don't have to say everything you know 

Jesus was emphatic when he stated that the prime objective for every one of His followers was to love someone else.

“Finally, the other lady is getting a chance to talk.” Those are the un-tempered words spinning around inside
my head. See, I am sitting here at one of my favorite restaurant attempting to enjoy breakfast, but am extraordinarily distracted. I'm being forced to listen to the conversation at the table to my left. The weather is a perfect. The view is captivating. The food is exquisite. Unfortunately, my senses are being dominated by a woman sitting at the table next to me on the restaurant’s patio as she engages her “OUTSIDE VOICE.” She is also, obviously terminally ill and has only 45 minutes to live. The reason I am aware of this is she is attempting to dispense everything she knows before her breakfast is over.

Words Used Score: OUTSIDE VOICE lady 1000 words per minute, her guest at the table 0.

I think to myself, “Man, I’m annoy.” While at the same time I think, “Man, I’m annoyable.”

I'm probably overly sensitive because I also have the proclivity to over communicate at times, to not listen well to others, and probably have some strange mental condition, demonstrated by my profound testiness over relatively insignificant external stimuli. It makes me irritably aware of my own need to listen more than speak and to ask questions rather than to enter into a monologue (Thank you very much, I’ll be here all week), even if I know all the answers. And I do know a lot of the answers…just ask me.

This all reminds me of the Apostle James words, “Be slow to speak…”

So, Today I Resolve:

• To speak fewer words than whoever I’m with.
• To ask more questions, even if it is to get to an answer that I know already. :)
• To believe that who I am with is actually human and is a carrier of a valuable story.

If I, if we can truly listen to those around us we will possibly be providing one of the most loving gestures available.

Now, I’ve gotta go before I go into my “OUTSIDE VOICE” and scream, “For the love of God, let the other person have her turn”

Some Non-Morbid Musings on Death

A couple of days ago I went through about an hour of weeping. A cry-fest, if you will. Now, those who know me are not startled a bit by that revelation. My tears reside just below the surface, not waiting, but anticipating the next chance they have to escape. It was said of St. Francis that he had the gift of tears. I guess that makes him and I some kind of kin.  

This, however, was not my normal get teary at a moment of joy or lament. It was a level up from that. It was more related to convulsing or even heaving. To make it even stranger, I was alone sitting in my living room, really not looking for a reason to cry.

Here's what happened. I'm schedule to perform a wedding next month in Denver (perform? What a weird way to describe officiating a wedding - ok, just noticed that officiating is just as weird) for a near daughter of mine, Jamie Helwick. Jamie is one of the dearest hearted people I’ve ever been privildged to know. While preparing for the ceremony…for my “performance” I was looking through prior ceremonies that I’ve led. These files are on my computer where I keep all of the info I have accumulated for weddings in a file entitled, Marry/Bury. Yep, Weddings AND Funerals. On a whimsical move I meandered to the Bury side of the file and began looking at memorials that I had officiated down through the years. I began to stroll through the dear friends and family of mine that of died. I started by reading the eulogy I wrote for Jeanie Cross. Then I moved on to Punky and Andy (one of the closest friends I’ve ever had and a son in the faith) and finally my Mom and Dad. By the time I read my mom's eulogy I was inconsolable. It was as if some fragile glass between me and a hidden storehouse of emotions had been shattered. It was not as if I hadn't reconciled the losses or conceded that I wouldn't see them all again. It really wasn't even sadness. I do deeply miss each one of them, but this was more like a resolve of gratitude from the joy and privilege of traveling with them.

In a way, life's journey and death are like a beautiful river. When observing a river, part of the loveliness is found in its turbulence, the sheer movement. It is mesmerizing, very similar, at least for me, to watching breakers collide with the beach at the ocean. There is something inside most people that feels like they can just sit and never weary of watching. It is almost like some ancient enchantment or spell cast on them. If a river becomes static it would cease being what it was supposed to be, in a sense, it would lose its innate beauty, it would lose its enchanting powers.

Photo by Craig Goodwin

If you were to visit my city in the spring, you would be able to observe the impressive Spokane River in its most breathtaking season. I have often commented that if the river rushed this forcefully year round, it would be a national treasure. People travel from all over to see it. The problem is, if you come in late summer you will not find anyone looking at it at all. Because it is mountain fed, it is reduced to a trickle. Its source has dried up. The turbulence, the white water over protruding boulders, the brilliance is gone. That is the way life and death is. If we try to capture it, we reduce it to something it was never supposed to be.

In reading a journal (The Antler's Journal) this last week I came across this elegant line by John Donne, the poet. He wrote that when a person dies, “…one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language.” I'm not saying that the death of people I love has ever been easy. It may be one of life’s most severe challenges. But it does have a beauty and gratitude couched within the complexity and loss.

Below is a short poem (or something – I’m not sure if it would be considered poetry or not) that I wrote a few years ago regarding death.

Death: A Confused Friend

A confused friend you are...

 

You are cold and separate,

yet bold and inviting

 

I've never wanted you as a friend, we are an uneasy couple.

 

You come both with tears and reuniting,

You come creating distance and promise,

You come with both sting and freedom.

 

A confused friend you are.

r

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Good Deaths

Racism, My City and Privilege

I am stirred up today. Perhaps anger would better describe my feelings. The reason? I woke today to the news that a restaurant that I frequent was vandalized last night with racially charged graffiti.

 

I'm exercised "partly" because I feel like I'm supposed to be. See, I identify myself as a social activist type. I speak and write frequently about issues of poverty, class, oppression and yes, race. The reason I say that I'm "partly" is because it is sometimes difficult for me to move beyond sympathy.

Hold on, I'm not suggesting I don't care. I care deeply! Deeply enough to act. Deeply enough to change. But, to become empathetic is a different thing. See, empathy means, "..having the ability to understand and share the feelings of another."  The reality is I admittedly don't completely understand. I'm a white male. I am of the “majority”…of the “privileged.” I don't contest that. The only place I can even hesitantly empathize is in my utter bewilderment.

As a former collegiate athlete I would on many occasions find myself in gyms where I was the minority. On several occasions, I was categorized immediately by my “whiteness.” Assumptions were unfairly made of me before my name was even known. Okay, here is where I think I can possibly empathize (though I share this hesitantly) with the owner of "Ha Ha's" in the awful gesture sprayed on the side of his building. My feeling was, "Why would you think something of me just because I'm white?  You don't know me. You don't know if I'm a 'cracker' or not. You don’t know that I can’t jump! (I had to throw that last one in).” Whatever hurtful stereotyping the person who runs HaHa's and his amazing eating establishment experienced, the reality is the perpetrators don't know him. It was a dehumanizing gesture. One in which the owner of HaHa's and his Korean race were stupidly slid into the category of objects. Objectification is the process of representing or treating a person as an object, one that serves. Subjects are those acting and objects are those being acted upon. It is a gesture, often violent, of subjugation or power. This is most certainly found in racial hatred, but also in gender, sex in the form of pornography, politics, and a whole array of other issues where people seek to use power over others. I don’t know for sure, but I would assume that in seeing the graffiti, the owner of HaHa's may have asked, “Why did they do this to me? I am a good guy. I offer good food at a fair price. They have no reason to hate me. They don’t even know me.”

I suppose the question that must be asked is; are there people in our world’s that we dehumanize. People of other skin color? People who are gay? Folks with mental illness? People from other religious backgrounds? People from other countries?

Here is one of the main reasons this matters so much to me. I'm disturbed about this morning’s incident (perpetrating hatred against another) is because I have a passionate dream that my city would be different. I attempt to live my life with the future in mind. In theological terms, this is called an eschatological hope. See, biblically all things will ultimately be reconciled or righted. It is best represented in Revelation 21:4 where it says, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."  If you read “the book,” you will also realize that race is a big deal to God. Over and over it states that at this wonderful culmination there will be a massive multi-racial worship service going on which includes every “tongue and nation.” No exclusion based upon race, definitive inclusion. As we endeavor to imagine the way things are supposed to be, objectification of others is…well, unimaginable! My goal then is to, with all I have, live into the future now. Where I see injustice, or poverty, or any type of hatred, I must both speak and act to demonstrate the grand reign of God. This future of wholeness animates my life now! In my thinking, when my current reality, my current city in this case, does not align with God’s ultimate proposed hope for His creation I must attempt to act out as an instrument to bring about what ought to be…

Now!

r

Through the Lens of People

I see the world through the lens of people. 

I love nature with its grandeur. At times when watching a sunset or breakers crashing ashore my breath is taken away. I also love cities. I have literally been in a lifelong love affair with cities. I love walking them. I love listening to them. The city holds complexity and vibrancy; they encompass light and darkness, life and death. It is difficult imagining wearying of them.

But both are mere subplots in my life for my love for people. I must admit a perpetual enchantment with people, friends and strangers. I'm captured with each person’s diversity and one-of-a-kind uniqueness. I marvel when I see or discover what motivates others. Each time I am with a group of friends, I begin to inch closer to the compelling future depiction of what the Bible calls “the new heaven and new earth.” If it isn’t like that, it should be.

I suppose that is why I like pastoring so much. I get the tremendous opportunity of partnering with people on their life journey.  Whether sitting with a young single woman as she describes her aloneness, through tears or smoking a cigar with a group of men “yukking it up” like adolescents or sitting with someone as they breath their last. All of these and more are elegantly sacramental and feel like a beautiful life dance that leaves me whispering prayers of gratefulness.

To be candid though, this love affair stuff does bump up against certain things, such as reality. See, I am also a hopeless dreamer/romantic. That means that there is an inescapable collision looming, and my love affair with people is not excluded from the dust up. I call this the romance/reality collision. See, I am curious with virtually everyone I meet. In my mind I think each new acquaintance is one of the most amazing humans ever. Truth be told, theologically at least, they are! In hard reality though, they’re just like me… broken which has a lovely side to it, but also can be incredibly emotionally taxing. When coming face-to-face with this challenge the natural tendency is to retract or create a personal safe zone. That means you begin to create distance or establish boundaries. 

This, however, is precisely when love conquers. It must conquer! Even though I am  semi-proficient at interpersonal engagement, my particular proclivity toward others can become paper-thin. Over time, however, I've come to understand and deeply appreciate that it is in the collision and the challenge that true community is exposed as real or whimsical and is potentially thickened, crafted into a love poem. The many lines of this poem are: long-suffering and endurance, honesty and vulnerability, confession and forgiveness, admiration and mutual respect, grace and mercy, tears and laughter that are both impulsive and lasting. If these encounters with others can holdfast, move toward rather than away from the “other,” I am convinced they provide a hallowed space for and a demonstration of what life at it's very finest can be. 

It is a lens I want to see the world through, held in the tension of curiosity to engage and resolve to stay.

r

Prayer: Before the Day is Out

A beautiful and moving prayer from Walter Brueggemann that I used in my sermon this morning.

Before the Day is Out 

Unwavering in your power,

Unflagging in your zeal,

Uncompromising in your position,

    It is good for us – just past Sabbath again,

                               just past Easter again –

    to awaken to your will of constancy for your world.

We pursue our projects,

    depart to our private dreams

    invest in our deepest hopes.

    They are fragile and flimsy at best,

    at worst they are devious and destructive.

    Either way, they pale before your constancy.

We gladly affirm – past our inclinations –

    that you will well-being among us,

    that you intend justice for the vulnerable,

    that you command mercy and compassion among us.

Turn us, before the day is out, from our will to yours,

Wean us, before we sleep, from our petty hopes,

Relocate us in your eternal resolve,

    that the earth may be fully your realm,

    that the world may wreak with your shalom,   

    that we ourselves may find our true freedom

        in your sovereign purpose.

Yours – not ours – is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory…

    And we are grateful. Amen

From Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth

 

39% of American go to church?

Gallop just published it most recent poll of religion and American life. They discovered that almost 40% of Americans go to church. WHAT? Where? 

 

What do you make of this pool?

2014 Resolution #1

Walk at least 10 minutes a day

I intend on walking more than this, but at least 10 minutes everyday. Just so you know, I do other excercises, but I want to walk for emotional health as much as physical.

r

2013 Family Christmas Video

Just for fun...check it out.

Christmas thingie from Rob Fairbanks on Vimeo.

 Rob

I Like Women!

Perhaps the title of this blog is a bit too provocative, but I want to write a public apology.

There has been quite a bit of blogging done recently about women in leadership of the church. I don’t want to comment much on that except to say that I am sad to have been one late to the party of affirming full equality for women in the church.

A position of non-equality simply did not make continuing sense for me as I attempted to flesh out a full-orbed theology of the Kingdom of God and it’s hopeful consummation and as I have been forced to contend with the apt and powerful (I say that in the most flattering Biblical way possible) of amazing women in my life. 

Coming face to face with the supernatural strength and grace (gifting) of:

My wife Robi, and daughter Karli Ingersoll, two of the most wonderfully formidable people (male or female) I’ve ever been blessed to be around. Not just them though. There has been a long line of wonderfully gifted women like Nancy Janzen, Christine Osgood, Deb Hirsch, Danielle Riggs, Janeen Steer, Liv Larsen Andrews, Rita Warren, just to name a few, all who by their grace, servanthood and patience challenged my “Complementarian” view without saying a word (ok, there have been some words :))

Do I regret the deliberateness of my journey? No. My commitment has always been to grapple with issues as honestly as possible. I have done that. To move beyond understanding, conscience and faith is, at least for me, dishonest. Something I am unwilling to do. 

However, in accordance with my shift, I will not only nod in assent on the issue of women in leadership of the church, but will intentionally seek the voice of females at Immanuel Church. The church desperately needs women to lead for it to be whole and beautiful...to represent Jesus fully in the world.

 r

Edited Note: In re-reading my blog post, I realized that it may sound like I just arrived at this position. That is not the case. My conclusion was drawn some time ago now and the process extended over many years. I just wanted to make a clarifying statement in light of the many voices who are not demure about making statements to the contrary.