Silent Disco

Picture the scene with me: a club full of people, moving and gyrating to music, tapping and spinning to a beat, hot and sweaty, multicolored lights flashing, more bodies than befits the space... typical club. Except for the fact that no music is audible. Every club go-er is outfitted with a pair of wireless headphones, and they and only they can hear the music.

Each one dancing to their own beat. Together, yet not. In the same place, all dancing, yet isolated from one another. How awkward if your dancing buddy is swinging to Celine Dion while you're rocking out to some Black Eyed Peas.

The scene that I am describing is a semi-recent and growing phenomena known as the silent disco. It's more popular in the UK/Europe than in the US, but still present in both.

As I have been thinking about popular culture, specifically within the college and young adult demographic, this image has repeatedly stuck in my mind, and I think it is a somewhat apt descriptor of trends that I see more often than not.

This generation is exceedingly communal. They hunger to be in the same place with others, and are always looking for groups of common interest or a sense of belonging. They gravitate towards "connections" with others, be that through social networking sites, common interest groups, advocacy groups, or even the rise of mobile communications devices. We are a generation of connectors: we want to belong, we want to be in the know, and we do not want to be "loners." See for example: Facebook, Twitter, the blogosphere, texting, websites relating awkward and embarrassing (yet humorous) personal stories, and the party culture on college campuses.

Yet at the same time, there is a degree to which, even in that "together" culture, we want to do so on our terms. We retain the right to choose how much information we share, where and when (c.f. facebook privacy settings and the invisible option for gchat). We select when we want to be "networked in" and when we want to be "invisible." And we seemingly want a "no-strings-attached" sense of relationships. The hook-up, one night stands, and casual sexual encounter culture are prime examples. Or I can "sext" you when I want you, or even just sign into a social networking site like Chat Roulette for a few hours, if I want a seriously string-free "connection." On a platonic level, let's talk about all the facebook friends that we have, but don't really actually talk to or stay in contact with. We want the connections, but we want it on our own terms, to our own tune, to fit with our schedule and our lives.

Silent disco. Together, yet not. Everyone dancing, together, yet each to his own beat on his own ipod. Able to maintain complete individuality, in the context of presumed communality.

I do not mean to appear cynical... I think there are a lot of positives to the culture of this generation. But I think there are also dangers... see in this culture, I think we settle for a placebo of being known. Of belonging. And my contention is that ultimately that is not satisfying. Which is why, above and beyond all else, the deepest hunger of this generation is still to belong. To be known.

We were made to share life together, in a way that community has the ability to shape and refine, to influence and impact the ways in which we live. And vice versa, us to our community. But we cannot seek that without also being willing to open ourselves up to the inconvenience and authenticity of really being known. And knowing others. People are messy. You are messy. I am messy. Community is messy.

But the beauty of real community is that we dance this messy dance together, learning together, laughing with one another as we look ridiculously off beat, but learning from one another's mistakes, talents, gifts, and experiences, and maybe just maybe, having a little bit more real and honest fun because we're dancing together.

talking about the m-word

[So, I'm going to talk about sexuality for a little bit, if you feel the need to censor, feel free].

So, in my job, I end up having many conversations about different issues, behaviors, brokenness, and habits, that wouldn't normally come up in a "regular" job. It is a privilege and an honor to hear about people's struggles and depths; one that I do not take lightly.

Among those, often times, conversations about sexuality will come up... we were created as sexual beings, and that is a good thing! To struggle with sexual brokenness, I think, is inherent to the fact our best and most human needs and desires are often those most deeply bent and marred by sin. And so, our sexuality, a good and holy thing, is often twisted and bent in ways that are not holy as a result of sin: lust, abuse, masturbation, idolatry, pornography, fear, shame; just to name a few... And let's be frank, people: this is not just something that men struggle with... let's debunk that myth, here and now. For real.

At any rate, I find often times, as we get into the topics of sexual brokenness, specifically around the issue of masturbation (the dreaded m-word), we, in Christian circles are taught that it is wrong, and we shouldn't do it, but the "why" is often not as clear... "just don't do it." And then the topic is shut down, because heaven forbid that we actually get caught using the m-word [even onomatopoetically, there's a sense of "dirtiness" to the word]. And I think there is a fear and foolishness associated with that, that is ultimately not satisfactory. If it's wrong, there has to be a reason...

And so I share this quote with you, because I have found it particularly helpful in processing this particular issue... in particular, I find it helpful because it gives us a reason why masturbation is less than God's design, even in the absence of lust or pornography. CS Lewis uses gendered language, but feel free to extrapolate the principle. And while you might not agree (that's fine), hopefully it will at least provide some good food for thought.

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For me the real evil of masturbation would be that it takes an appetite which in lawful use, leads the individual out of himself to complete (and correct) his own personality in that of another (and finally in children and even grandchildren) and turns it back; sends the man back into the prison of himself, there to keep a harem of imaginary brides.

And this harem, once admitted, works against his ever getting out and really uniting with a real woman. For the harem is always accessible, always subservient, calls for no sacrifices or adjustments, and can be endowed with erotic and psychological attractions which no real woman can rival. Among those shadowy brides he is always adored, always the perfect lover; no demand is ever made on his unselfishness, no mortification ever imposed on his vanity. In the end, they become merely the medium through which he increasingly adores himself...

... After all, almost the main work of this life is to come out of ourselves, out of the little, dark prison we are all born in. Masturbation is to be avoided as all things are to be avoided which retard this process. The danger is that of coming to love the prison.

- CS Lewis, Letter (March 6, 1956) to a Mr. Mason, Wade Collection, Wheaton College, Wheaton, Illinois. [as quoted in The Broken Image: Restoring Personal Wholeness Through Healing Prayer, by Leanne Payne, Crossway Books, 1981]

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leadership

Yesterday, we had our annual leadership interest brunch, on campus, telling the story of what has happened with InterVarsity in the past year, and casting vision for what could happen, what we long to see happen, and inviting students to dream with us for what God might do!

My co-staff, Kaitlin, gave a great overview of Nehemiah, in inviting students to think about being part of the vision lived out on campus ("rebuilding the wall"), and then talked about how the beauty of Nehemiah wall-builders is that they are all different with different gifts and skills. There are priests working next to the daughters of Shallum son of Hallohesh; there are perfume makers (who knew they had wall-building skills) working next to goldsmiths, next to commoners. The identities of each are radically different, the skills of each are radically different, but they work together for one common vision (rebuilding the wall). And the wall cannot be completed without each and every one of them.

So to it is with campus leadership: leadership looks different for different people. There is no one mold of a "good" leader. Rather, the task of "advancing the kingdom through whole-life conversion to Jesus" requires extroverts, introverts, science majors, English majors, international students, greeks, seekers, techno-geeks, those with great social skills, church-kids and new Christians... rather leadership involves common vision, and a willingness to step out and allow God to use you; to say, "I don't have much, but here's what I do have."

"Now, let's rebuild that wall..."

in a spacious place..

So, as I have engaged with a semester of slowing down and pressing in to those areas of vulnerability and weakness, learning how to be a woman on my knees... one of the things that has become very clear to me (was previously clear to my supervisors and friends, but I'm a lil slow) is that I am very performance-driven.

My greatest temptation is to define myself based on what I can do. If I'm succeeding, then I am worthwhile, I am a success. If I fail, then I am a failure. The insidious part of this flawed operating system, is that it perfectly correlates to the American dream... pulling yourself up by your bootstraps (physically impossible, by the way), "Just do it," hard working, innovative, success-driven, climber mentality. So often times, rather than being recognized for the unhealthy mode of operation that it is, I am applauded for it, encouraged in it, and even positively reinforced in that pattern.

And don't mistake me, there is nothing wrong with wanting to succeed. There is nothing wrong with being hard-working. In fact, those are both really positive things! But when our identities are so wrapped up in what we do, that we're afraid to cease doing, we're afraid to fail, because we're not sure that there's anything to us, other than what we do, then there's a problem. And that was me, at the end of last semester.

I would not do things, unless I thought could succeed, because my fear of failure was all-consuming. I was afraid of taking risks. And most crucially, I didn't know how to stop working-- I would work 60-70 hour weeks-- because I didn't want to slow down and actually have to face myself, to figure out who I was in the absence of doing. It was not a place of freedom... and all too often, fear and anxiety were the governing motivators.

Yes, yes, I know, I'm a campus minister, we're supposed to have things together. Wrong. We're often times the most messed up of all people, because we press into our unhealthy patterns in the name of serving God; we run away from facing ourselves by doing "holy" work... and our souls, my soul, become atrophied in the process. Because at the end of the day, under this mode of operation, who we are depends on our ability to meet a standard, to perform well, which looks a lot like a living under the law, yet again.

And friends, that is not living in freedom. You were not set free for the sake of becoming a working machine, defined by what you do. You were set free for the sake of freedom, to serve in freedom, out of delight, not out of a desperate search to define yourself. We, I, you, have an identity already, given by the Father. And any identity that we try to manufacture for ourselves will only a poor reflection of the one intended for us.

So this semester, thanks to the wisdom of my supervisors, has been a semester of slowing... of facing myself, my images of myself, my ways of defining my identity, and in that weakness, falling to my knees, and asking the Father, "Who do you say that I am?"

His answer? "You are my daughter in whom I delight."

Not an identity based in doing, but an identity of belonging and being. A child, a little girl, is loved not because of what she can do, but because of who she is... whether she's Michelangelo or a 5 year old finger-painter... whether she's singing Vivaldi or Veggie Tales... whether she makes Creme Brulee or homemade oatmeal with baking soda instead of sugar... she is loved and delighted in because of who she is.

So too is my identity. Delighted in because I belong to the Father. I am his daughter, known by him, created by him, and loved by him. And in that place, my performance has no weight on my identity. There is freedom to fail. To take risks. To try things that I might not be good at. To acknowledge places in which I am weak. Don't get me wrong, I still want to succeed. I still want to do well, but I want to do so to delight the Father, not to define myself.

That, friends, is a place of freedom. :)

not on mighty steeds..

I had a long conversation with a good friend of mine a few days ago, and in passing, she utterly these profound and eloquent words. It was striking to me, and has stuck with me for a few days since because it was so radically different from our typical mode of operation.

"the battle is won, not on mighty steeds, but on our knees... not in our greatest strengths, but by acknowledging our greatest vulnerabilities. and pressing in, in our weaknesses, clinging even, to the One who possesses the strength we lack." A.E.W.

Her point was this: our greatest moral and spiritual triumphs in life occur when we finally see ourselves in our true vulnerability and weakness, and press into God more fully. The battle is not won through demonstrations of our profound strength and courage or mighty weapon wielding, but in those moments when we fall to our knees before God and say, "here I am; I need you."

This semester has been an interesting one for me, because I have been required to slow down and re-examine my modes of operation... my past brokenness'... my fears... my false self... and my unhealthy habits.

These are the things that I most seek to hide. To avoid. To pretend are not there.

And yet, in acknowledging these and pressing more fully into God's strength, therein lies my greatest strength.

Here's what I've learned in my last 25 years: the greatest testimonies... the greatest transformation... the people who have been most influential in my life... are the ones who are unafraid to speak of their own brokenness and utter need for God with absolute freedom. And the moments when I have understood my own absolute need for God, and fallen to my knees in honesty and desire, are the moments in which I have seen the most transformation in me, and through my retelling of those stories.

It is completely counter cultural. But oh so true.

Lord, help me to be a woman on my knees...

Grown-Up

Today, as I was walking down to the river, I passed a father with his two young daughters, each tugging at a hand and chattering oh so exuberantly about this and that... nothing important, but to look at the father, you would have thought that he was listening not to the aimless chatter of young children but to the most scintillating and captivating of all performances or speeches.

Among other topics, the two small ones were discussing being grown-up versus being a little girl. One was of the opinion that being small was the way to go (she was the smaller one); the other ardently claimed that she was advantaged in being "all grown-up" (she was the older one at a ripe old age of six).

Their childish banter and gleeful delight gave me pause, and made me stop and consider this idea of being "grown-up." It's such a silly phrase: "grown-up." What does that even mean? Certainly it does not refer to reaching maximum height capacity, as an indicator of completeness... if that is the case, then I am sorry to say, I think maturity might need to be redefined.

Yet, even as I pondered these thoughts, I was struck by another thought: I can barely remember a time when I did not consider myself "grown-up" and "mature." For as long as I can remember, I have acted as a small adult. Even now, I see out my window a small child, hopping around for no apparent reason, simply because it is delightful to her. I long for those days, but they are foreign to me. Surely this is not what it means to be mature. Surely there is more to maturity than putting off or losing childlike delight and freedom and becoming "sensible" and "realistic" and "businesslike." This is a "maturity" that often is stuffy, and certainly lacks joy and freedom.

Yet in converse, as I watch and interact with 20 somethings who act as though they had no cares in the world, resisting adult responsibility, depending on others to sustain them, and avoiding anything not fun--childlike freedom, if you will-- my gut reaction tells me that they do not understand maturity any more deeply than the rest of us. This is a "maturity" that lacks an understanding of purpose or meaning beyond self gratification and satisfaction; it is shallow in nature.

See, I don't think maturity, or being grown up, is about losing childlike freedom or delight. Nor do I think that it is falsely clinging to childish ways. And decidedly, it is not about arriving at the pinnacle of maximum height capacity... otherwise, you would presume that professional athletes would act decidedly more responsibly!

So what does it mean, to be mature or "grown-up"?

Here's my alternative thought: what if being mature had less to do with gaining or losing something (stuffiness/responsibility/childishness/freedoms et al), and more to do with coming into fullness? In that sense, maturity, or being grown-up has less to do with leaving behind childish ways, and more to do with coming into the fullness of who you were created to be- with the fullness of childlike delight and freedom, full participants in the work of the Kingdom, the fullness of your gifts and calling seen and lived into, yourself fully known, and your purpose and role fully identified.

Under this definition, none us is ever fully mature or "grown-up." We're never done growing, changing, or coming fully into our created identity, until we are made full and whole in consummate relationship with our Creator, which we long for with all of our being. And with each passing year, we will certainly understand how little we understand more fully.

But I would argue that this is actually a maturity that has some meat on it, some life in it, and some worth in pursuing it. This is a maturity that is lifelong, holistic, purposeful, and life-giving.

In that sense, perhaps being "grown-up" or "mature" is something to be longed for...

Ah, Holy Jesus, How Hast Thou Offended

I had never heard this hymn before, but we sang it tonight at the Good Friday services and the words have stuck with me... aside from a great melody, the words are just really powerful, so I thought I would share them with you, fitting for the solemnity of Good Friday:

Ah, holy Jesus, how hast Thou offended,
That man to judge Thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by Thine own rejected,
O most afflicted.

Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
’Twas I, Lord, Jesus, I it was denied Thee!
I crucified Thee.

Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;
The slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered;
For man’s atonement, while he nothing heedeth,
God intercedeth.

For me, kind Jesus, was Thy incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow, and Thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and Thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.

Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee,
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee,
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.

[Ah, Holy Jesus, How Hast Thou Offended. Words: Jo­hann Heer­man, 1630, Herz­lieb­ster Je­su; trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by Ro­bert S. Bridg­es, 1899]