Tattoos, tribes and true community

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“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” Acts 2:42 (NIV)

What makes a true community?

People use the word community to describe all sorts of social groups. But what constitutes a “true” (real, authentic, fully realized) community? If we are born into the same race or family, does our membership in the same tribe equal true community? What if we wear the same colors, tattoo our bodies, endure the same initiation, does our gang become a true community? What makes a true community?

Psychologist and author, Scott Peck, says that most people have only experienced true community in accidental ways and that usually during crisis. He says that most groups that people think of as communities are really just “pseudo-communities.” He believes that true community requires going through a four stage process of deepening relationships and connection.

These four stages are:

  1. Pseudo-community: Where participants are “nice with each other”, playing-safe, and presenting what they feel is the most favourable sides of their personalities.
  2. Chaos: When people move beyond the inauthenticity of pseudo-community and feel safe enough to present their “shadow” selves.
  3. Emptiness: This stage moves beyond the attempts to fix, heal and convert of the chaos stage, when all people become capable of acknowledging their own woundedness and brokenness, common to us all as human beings. Out of this emptiness comes
  4. True community: the process of deep respect and true listening for the needs of the other people in this community. This stage Peck believes can only be described as “glory” and reflects a deep yearning in every human soul for compassionate understanding from one’s fellows.

Peck’s description of true community as the “deep yearning in every human soul” is what drives us to tattoo ourselves and identify with tribes. We all have a deep desire for true community.

I think God made us that way. He made us relational. He made us to be in relationship with Him and with others. That’s why Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love God and to love others as ourselves. In other words, God designed us to be in true community with HIm and with HIs people.

As I look at any community that approaches the level of being “true,” they always seem to have certain traits in common. The first century church described in the book of Acts was certainly a “true community.” They had four traits in common. These four traits or “devotions” were the apostle’s teaching, the fellowship, the breaking of bread and prayer. Restated, they might be 1) a common belief, 2) a common identity, 3) a common practice, and 4) a common dependence.

This past Wednesday I gathered with my weekly WCC Community Group. After the loss of my wife’s father last week, our family was in need of some “true community.” We gathered in a member’s home to read the Scripture together, eat together, laugh, talk, and pray. They (and many others in our wonderful church) brought meals to our home. They filled our house with flowers and cards. They phoned and emailed their words of comfort.

True community. I think I’ve found it.

A great generation passes

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“This is the generation of them that seek Him…”  Psalm 24:6 (KJV)

My wife’s father, Garmon Whitfield Conner, passed away this past Wednesday. He died suddenly of a heart attack. Our family is in shock.

As I sit in a Roanoke hotel room writing this entry, I can’t help but think about how much I’ll not only miss him, but the generation he represents. Garmon (or Papaw as we called him after the grandkids came) was part of the “Builder” generation. They were the ones who gave birth to us “baby boomers.” They are the ones who built and planted much of what we now enjoy.

Yesterday, we spent the evening at Garmon’s house. We walked around the house and land he worked so hard to make into a home. His two acres, covered with fruit trees, grapevines, and gardens, all reflect the labor he spent and the dream he had for a home. September in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia means that a lot of those trees and vines are ripe with fruit. We enjoyed tasting peaches, pears, grapes and Virginia apples.

“Where did Papaw get all these different trees and plants?” My son Jonathan asked.  “Were they here when he bought the place?” He continued.

“No, I remember him planting some of these.” I answered, as I reflected on the 31 years I’d been coming there. “The truth is no one eats an apple from a tree they planted. We all enjoy the fruit of an earlier generation. Papaw planted these trees, but we get to eat their fruit.” I said.

The photo above is a favorite of mine. The look on his face is classic. Whoever took the photo probably asked him to look their way as they took the picture.

My guess is that he gave that look, as he said something like, “Can’t you see I’m busy cooking you supper?”

The look was just his way of joking. He was always ready to give. He was part of the great generation.

I plan to remember him by telling my kids and grandkids about his generation’s willingness to sacrifice. I also hope to lead them to seek after the Lord the way he did too.

I’ll miss Garmon Whitfield Conner. His initials are the same as mine, GWC. I’ve often kidded my wife that she was looking for a man who had the same initials as her father.

I hope I have more in common with him than that.

Multi-core processors and multi-tasking minds

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“Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”  “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things,but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:40-42 (NIV)

Man, this has been a distracting week! I’ve had so much to do that I’ve had difficulty focusing. But apparently, I’m not the only one struggling with all the distractions and complications of trying to multitask to keep up in this fast-paced world of ours.

Computer companies are facing a crisis as they try to achieve ever faster processing speeds. That’s how they get us to buy new units. They keep making them faster and more powerful. Up until recently they just kept making their processors faster until they began to reach the upper limit of a single processor’s speed. Now, developers have found a way to go faster by building multi-core processors. We hear them advertised as “dual core” and now “quad core” processors. They really speed things up when tasks can be divided into “parallel” paths. The crisis? Software. The software developers have been trained to think in a linear fashion. How can software be written that divides tasks into multiple parallel paths? Computer companies are frantically searching for a breakthrough in software that can utilize multi-core processors.

It’s not just computers that are hitting their multi-tasking limit, so are we. I read an article recently that described the huge gains in IQ scores that a test group had when they focused on a task. The group was first given a test to take while being interrupted by emails, phone calls, and other distractions. Then, they were given a similar test while sitting in a quiet room without distractions. Their scores increased dramatically when they were in the distraction free environment.

In the book of Luke a woman named Martha is described as suffering from the distractions of life. She was overwhelmed with worry and was extremely upset.

“Lord, don’t you care?” She asked.

The answer Jesus gave her is the one we need to hear today.

Jesus said, “You are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.”

Jesus told Martha to focus. Focus on one thing. The thing? Him. Jesus told her to focus on Him.

Maybe I need to slow down to speed up.

Doing the little things

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“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’ Matthew 25:23 (NIV)

This past Monday I helped facilitate a new peer learning group for ministry leaders in the Fayetteville area with the Innovative Church Community. We had a great time unpacking a teaching by Bill Hybels entitled, “Passing the Leadership Test.” Hybels gives five tests for leadership that he learned from the way Jesus called Peter. I really related to all five of the “tests,” but one really resonated with me. It was the one that Hybels called “The Bias for Action” test.

Hybels illustrates his point by telling a story about having a large number of people over to his house for a meal. As the evening winded down, Hybels headed to the kitchen sink and began washing dishes. Soon, he noticed someone standing at his side helping. He said of all the people there, this one man moved to help. Hybels goes on to say that this fellow now works on his leadership team and is a significant church leader. Hybels says he wants people on his team that are willing to do something, people with a bias for action.

When I first graduated from college and was offered a job at a major corporation, I asked my Uncle Clyde (who was the president of a bank at the time) if he had any advice for me.

He said, “Son, when the boss says sweep, you sweep with all you’ve got.”

I shook my head and smiled in response as I looked around his rich paneled office thinking what odd advice from such an influential man.

“Oh, OK.” I responded.

Even if I didn’t understand the significance of my uncle’s advice at the time, I still followed it. When I began my job as a management trainee, I was determined to do whatever the boss said, no matter how menial.

Guess what. The advice worked. I was promoted from Assistant Store Manager to Store Manager then to Area Manager and finally District Manager over 20 stores by the time I was 25 years old. I was the youngest DM in the company at the time.

My secret? When the boss said “sweep,” I swept. Funny how when I was faithful to do the little things, they kept promoting me and trusting me with more.

This Sunday we’ll be talking about a man named Stephen. The Bible says he was full of the Spirit and wisdom. If anyone was ever over-qualified for a job, it was Stephen. Yet, when the apostles asked him to wait tables, he took the job on willingly. He wasn’t unwilling to serve. There was no job beneath him.

And so, God promoted him and made him one of the most powerful preachers of his time. A whole missionary movement to the Greeks began with him.

Stephen was a hero because he was faithful to do the little things.

Time to relax or risk?

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“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?”Esther 4:14 (NIV)

After turning 50 this summer I’ve been thinking that it’s time to start relaxing more. You know, let the young folks do the risky stuff.

Yet, last week (I don’t know what got into me) I jumped off of a cliff at Boone Lake, Tennessee. After climbing up the steep foot path I was so winded, I didn’t want to climb back down. But after peering down at the water from the top, I certainly didn’t want to jump either!

As I stood there, frozen for a moment, I thought to myself, “Gary, you’re too old to be up here. What were you thinking? You could break your neck!”

Meanwhile, from the boat below, another commentary was being offered by my cousin, David. He is six years my elder. He has been “inspiring” me to do things since we were kids.

“Hey, you’re not wimping out are you?” He offered, as he saw me pausing on the precipice.

Well, as a matter of fact, I was. I mean, I’m too old to be pulling stunts like this anymore. I’ve already jumped from enough cliffs. Time for someone else to do the jumping. Right?

Wrong. I jumped. And it was ugly. I looked like a wounded bird flapping its wings as I plunged into the water nearly 40 feet below. But coming up from the chilly depths, I was glad. Glad that I had jumped again (and glad that I didn’t die).

Earlier this week I was talking to a pastor friend of mine named Mike. He asked what my vision was for our church this coming year. He said that he wasn’t sure that his vision was big enough for his church. He said that he wanted to remain on the “cutting edge,” willing to risk everything for God. Mike wants to keep believing God for things that are beyond human effort.

With a smile, Mike said, “I don’t want to get too comfortable. I want to keep taking risks for God.”

This Sunday we’ll be looking at another faith “hero.” Her name is Esther. She came from a very risky background. She was a Jewish orphan raised by her cousin. But she rose to prominence and wealth. In spite of her position of comfort, she risked everything to help rescue her people. She may have thought that she had already risked enough for God. But she didn’t choose to rest. She chose to risk.

Do you ever feel that you’re too old or that you’ve already risked enough?  Are you afraid that God is calling you to jump?

So, jump. Faith believes that God will catch you.

Praising God for a spiritual legacy

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I was privileged to present a plaque to Willow Branch Baptist Church this past Sunday on behalf of my family.

The little church, nestled in the Appalachian mountains of Virginia, is framed by a creek on one side and a gravel road on the other. Traveling out to the church is to experience a kind of time warp. Driving on Interstate 81, taking the exit onto the two-lane Gate City highway, turning onto an unmarked series of curvy paved roads that gradually descend deeper and deeper into the hills, one finally turns onto a rutted, gravel road that seemingly hasn’t been improved since the days when wagons traveled there. Finally, a little church stands, its parking lot full to overflowing. We park our car halfway in the grass and half in the road. It’s OK. Passerby will just have to use one lane until church lets out.

Being back in the church that four generations of my mother’s family have attended was a mixture of joy and melancholy. Joy because I was reunited with cousins and friends that I rarely get to see. Melancholy because of the faces that were missing. While we stood to sing “Victory in Jesus,” I kept imagining that I caught a glimpse of my Granny and Papa singing in the second pew. I saw my mother singing, tears streaming down her smiling face, while clinching a flowered hanky in her hand. I saw my Aunt Betty teaching little kids in her back room Sunday School Class. I saw the Willow Branch Quartet sharing their shaped note, four-part harmony in acapela style. Then, I blinked and we stood there in the present again.

Presenting this plaque at the church homecoming was great, but it only made me want more. Ever since I was a boy, I always wanted to stay longer, play longer, talk longer. I haven’t changed. I wonder if that desire is a longing for the eternal. I wonder if heaven will finally be the place where we get to stay and talk until we are truly satisfied.

I’m looking forward to that homecoming.

What Jesus builds when we have faith

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“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.” Matthew 16:15-18 (NIV)

I was baptized at eleven years of age by the pastor of the Willow Branch Baptist Church. I confessed Christ as my Lord and Savior that day and so did my brother, my sister and two of my cousins.

We knew we were connected to a faith that went back generations. But it wasn’t until later that I fully understood that faith and just how deep and far the connection.

The Willow Branch Baptist Church was within a short walk of my grandparent’s home. I always heard that my great, great grandfather (my mother’s mother’s father’s father), had donated the land, helped build the church, and acted as its founding pastor. His name was Cambell Hiscal Barker. Apparently, he had been a Methodist, but a revivalist that came through convinced him of the importance of baptism by immersion. He became a Baptist and since there wasn’t a Baptist church in the area, he planted one.

Rev. Barker was illiterate, but that didn’t stop him. He’d have his son read the Scripture and then he’d preach from there. He was a farmer, land owner, logger, and a preacher. When his wife was diagnosed with the “consumption,” he moved to the better climate of California, leaving behind my great grandfather, Henry Barker, who was already married.

This coming Sunday, our family has asked me to present a historical plaque to the Willow Branch Baptist Church with a photo of Cambell Hiscal Barker and a description of his part in the planting of the church. As I stand to speak, I’ll be thinking of my mother and my grandmother who told me these stories. But most of all I’ll be standing on the faith that they shared with me.

When the apostle Peter confessed Christ, Jesus promised to build the church upon his confession of faith. Centuries later Christ is still building His church. When we have the faith to follow and confess Jesus, He promises to do the building. Building the church has never been our job. When we lift up Jesus by faith, He does the building.

Turns out I’m a Momma’s boy

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“Boaz replied, “I’ve been told all about what you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband–how you left your father and mother and your homeland and came to live with a people you did not know before. May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.” Ruth 2:11-12 (NIV)

When I was young my Dad used to ask, “Who’s boy are you?”

To which I always enthusiastically answered, “I’m a Daddy’s boy!”

To my knowledge at the time, I was answering truthfully. I identified with my Dad. I looked up to him. I wanted to be just like him.

My Dad passed away when I was eight years old. From then on it was up to my Mom to raise me and my three siblings. She never wavered. She was faithful to provide a loving home, discipline when we needed it, food on the table, and what I now know to be the most important thing… spiritual training and prayer.

My mother loved the Lord. Anyone who ever knew her would know this. You wouldn’t have to know her long either before her passion for God became obvious. She loved His church too. She took us to church “every time the doors opened.” She loved the preaching and the study of God’s Word. But there was no doubt that she loved singing and worship most of all!

My Mom didn’t have a man to be a father to her children or a husband to help share the load of life. But she was faithful to God. She depended on God to be a father to her children and a companion to her as a widow.

My Mom’s faith and passion made its mark on me. I always thought I was a Daddy’s boy, but it turns out that I was a Momma’s boy all along. My Mom is one of my greatest heroes.

The Bible tells the story of another widow named Ruth who trusted God for all of her needs too. And God supplied them all.

I’m glad God called women like my Mom and Ruth to heroic, following faith. Their example of faithfulness calls us to follow Christ with faith too.

Every boy’s dream

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“The angel of the Lord appeared to him and said, “Mighty hero, the Lord is with you!” Judges 6:12 (NLT)

When I was a little boy I used to dream of being a great hero. I would daydream that someone broke into the house and I had to save my my mom and siblings from the evil burglar. Or I would be in school and daydream that the Russians had invaded and I had to save my teacher and classmates from being captured (Probably influenced by the nuclear attack drills we used to have in the early 60s). In these dreams I sometimes was severely wounded or nearly killed, but I was always courageous and brave. And the women were especially appreciative in these dreams, particularly whatever little girl I was enamored with at the time.

It’s like there was some deep desire in me from birth to offer my life to some great endeavor or enterprise that would demand my all. I dreamed of heroism.

The dictionary defines the word hero as someone who in the face of great adversity and danger or from a position of weakness, displays courage and the will to self-sacrifice for some greater good.

As I’ve thought about this desire for the heroic, I believe I’m not alone. I think every little boy dreams of being the hero. I think every little girl dreams of being in a heroic story too. Perhaps as the heroine or perhaps as the one the hero comes to save.

Little boys and little girls aren’t the only ones who dream of heroes. God looks for heroes too. I think He is the one who puts the desire in our hearts, both to be heroes and the desire to be saved by a great hero.

Starting this Sunday we’ll begin a six part message series entitled: “Heroes – Amazing Heroes of Faith.” We’ll be looking at men and women in the Bible who demonstrated such courageous and self-sacrificing faith that God lifts them up as His heroes.

I think this heart for the heroic comes from the greatest hero who ever lived, Jesus. He is our hero. And He puts the hero’s heart in all who follow Him.

A passion for mentoring

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“And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others.”  2 Timothy 2:2 (NIV)

“Can you speak to our Kiwanis Club meeting this Thursday?” A friend of our ministry phoned to ask.

Normally, I’d say no to this kind of offer. I get to speak plenty and I get tired of hearing my own voice. However, I had just attended a peer learning community with some fellow ministry leaders where we discussed what it means to be a “city church.” We also discussed the importance of finding a “man of peace” that has influence in the community and who is open to joining you as you follow Jesus on mission. Perhaps, I thought this is one of those “city church/man of peace” moments.

So, I found myself answering, “Sure, where, what time, and how long do you want me to talk?”

I spoke to a group of about 30 men this past Thursday evening at the Golden Corral. They fed me. Had me lead them in a patrotic song (My friend told them I was a singer too). And then, heard my story about my passion for mentoring.

I challenged them to share their wisdom and skill with the next generation. I shared with them my passion for coaching church planters through my involvement with the Innovative Church Community. I told them about the opportunities to mentor troubled teens through the Youth of Wilson organization, on whose board of directors I serve. I told them that our young people need fathers. They need mentors.

They were very receptive. I’m glad I said “Yes” to sharing my passion.

The apostle Paul told Timothy to be a mentor to younger men and to teach them to mentor, to disciple, others as well. I want to obey that call. Will you join me?

Let’s invest our lives together!