Absolute Story

Apologies for the long silence: It’s been a bit of a fight with the internet provider but it seems they have now agreed with me that as I’m paying them a monthly fee, they probably should get on with making a connection and providing internet access, so they sent someone to find the plug or to whatever it is that they needed to do when customers move house. Goodness knows why big corporations find it so hard to handle this sort of thing: cancelling the contract and making another would have been quicker and cheaper. I’ve noted that for next time.

It seems my cunning plan to keep entries appearing on a regular basis didn’t work as it was suposed to: unfortunately after getting the pictures up and ready, usually the most time consuming bit, I didn’t have time or energy to make the rest publishable, hence the silence. Sorry about that

Anyway, we’re here: we have a garage that we can use, and which I’m making into a bike workshop, (more of that anon) in a network of relatively quiet streets we can cycle on without too much trouble from Mercedes Man: We can see green trees, the boys can go and play in the fields and meadows in three minutes, and every couple of days a buzzard or two flies past. All this for moving about 300m from our previous apartment. It’s another step towards the end goal, which I’ll also write about another time, but now I need to catch up with work and paperwork, and try and reduce the size of my inbox.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you’ll have probably gathered that I do a fair bit of cycling. And because I’m in a definite minority in car-centric south Germany, I tend to gravitate towards other people on bikes. In fact, most cyclists will greet each other, talk about bikes, and share thoughts.

What we don’t need to do, is organise a weekly meeting.

You can see where this is going. Why is it that in the church we seem to think we have to have a certain template -usually meeting once a week- that everyone must fit into? Where does the bible say: “Blessed are those who meet every Sunday morning, sometime between ten and midday, for they shall be Proper Christians”?

I don’t have a problem with getting together with other Christians any more than I have a problem with going to be with other cyclists, My problem is the idea that this weekly attendance is the way church works. I’m coming to think that the whole way we do church: structures, routines, hierarchies and even regular meetings, are part of the problem. They seem great for making people conform to one idea, but not for building relationships and encouraging people.. The bible study I’m supposed to be working from uses the usual arguments about how ‘Fellowship’ is important, but just to go back a step, why do we have to work so hard to make people ‘be church’?

What if we’ve got it backwards? What if the fellowship comes out of the relationship, instead of the other way around? In the Lifestream Blog Wayne Jacobson says:

I am convinced real church emerges as an organic outgrowth of relationships people are already sharing. So the question is not, how do we start a church, but rather, how do we facilitate people caring for each other and growing spiritually together and see over time whether or not church life emerges from that reality? I really don’t think we need to start churches.

(Thanks to Kingdom Grace for the link)

At this point people often quote Hebrews 10 v25: Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching. “See?” they say. “We need to go to church…” But just a moment, that seems to say the opposite of ‘not meeting’ isn’t getting together in a big room, but encouraging each other. I can live with that: I like to be with other cyclists, go on bike rides with them and read blogs because it’s encouraging. No-one needs to tell me off when I don’t. So why isn’t our experience of church the same, and how can that become more relational, organic and living? And how am I going to do this bible study without offending someone?

I’ll admit it, I lied to my wife on Sunday. Sort of.

It was mother’s day in Germany, and everywhere else except the UK apparently. We’d already had a small ‘Mothers day’ celebration a week ago when my parents were here, but I wanted to make a surprise for Gorgeous wife. The plan was to make dinner and a cake while the family were out in the morning. Getting them out of the house was the easy part: with all the chaos involved when getting three boys ready to go anywhere, finding shoes, filling water bottles, losing toys and tripping over coats that is involved when we go anywhere as a family I was able to ‘accidentally’ could get left behind, and waved them off with a cheery assurance that I’d be along in a minute and then set to, getting ready. What a devious liar I am.

If it makes you feel any better, made lunch (Ceasar salad and baguettes) and a huge chocolate cake.

My dad has been shredding old sermons. As he’s been preaching for 35 years that’s a lot of material, but he’s discovered that many times when he wrote a new sermon on a certain text, it has turned out to be almost identical to other sermons he wrote up to a decade earlier. I’m aware the same thing could happen (and probably has) with my scripts, so yesterday I held my first ever had a writing workshop here to try and get ideas together for the July presentation. Five people turned up: this was encouraging as I expected two. I gave them the bible text (John 15: ‘the vine and the branches’, not the easiest, but there we go) told them the number of people involved, and a few parameters: the team wanted something serious, not ‘christiany’, a bit of depth and controversial. They liked the last bit the most. As usual with this team, several people had different ideas how we could interpret the text Some of them were interested in the difference between the ‘true vine’ and other vines, and what sort of result that had in normal life, while others wanted to explore the way that Jesus had set up a situation where it was either a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ answer: there was no middle ground.

I split the team into two groups and gave them fifteen minutes to think up a story on their favourite theme. I started with the ‘yes or no’ group, They were nearest and I’m lazy. They started developing a story about bullying (close to life, gooood…) and decisions people have to make in that sort of situation, and the consequences (fruit) of these decisions. They were gathering ideas quickly and they clearly didn’t need me any more. So I stuck my nose in the next room to ask what the other group (“What is the true and false vine?“) had come up with so far:

“Ambition!“
“Genetic Engineering!“
“Peak Oil!“

It’s going to be an interesting presentation…

After getting steadily more busy and stressed over the last few weeks I ended up exhausted over the weekend. Instead of going to an outreach as planned on Sunday, and writing about it today, I ended up ill all afternoon and recovering today.

So instead, here’s a monologue Xpresso presented some time ago about the Samaritan woman at the well in from John chapter 4 of John’s gospel. I know it’s a bit of a cop-out, but I’m also aware that the majority of people who read this have never seen any of my scripts, and I don’t see why you should continue to get away with it…

The Conversation…

(Enter Julia. Dumps stuff on table and goes to phone. Dials.)

Julia: Hi. Mum… It’s me (Pause) Julia. (Pause) Julia Your daughter. (Pause) No, Not the hairdresser… your daughter. (Pause) yes… (Pause) I wanted to tell you something, something really amazing… (To herself, mimicking) “Are you getting married?” (Pause) No we aren’t (Pause) you know why. (Pause) mum, please, we’ve gone over this… about 37 times as I recall. (Pause) no. This is more important. (Pause. Holds phone a bit further from ear) I know I’m not getting any younger (Pause) I know mum; all the other people at your cards club have grandchildren. (Pause) it must be very hard but there’s nothing I… (Pause) Mum, can I get a word in please? (Pause) look, this isn’t easy to understand, in fact I’m not too sure I understand it myself, so will you do me a favour and just listen until I’m finished? (Pause) yes, just listen. (Pause) well perhaps a bit more than normal this time. Ready? Good.

Now you see I’ve just been over at the well. (Pause) yes, I know what sort of woman goes there this time of day. I just … well, I get a bit fed up of the stares and “Man-eater” comments, so I went just now. Anyway, I met this guy there and (Pause) mum, that’s not it, definitely not. (Pause) how I know? Because he’s… well, he’s a Rabbi (Pause, holds phone away from ear) Yes, I know they don’t like us very much, to put it mildly. But this one is –seems to be- different, somehow. (Pause) well, he talked to me: that’s one thing. Had a drink with me too. (Pause) no, don’t worry mum, I’m sure none of your friends saw us together (Pause) yes it would be terrible wouldn’t it? Can I go on now?

Right, so he asks me for a drink. (Pause. Julia agrees with what is being said:) Exactly, that’s what I said. And then he says: “If you knew who I was, you’d be asking me for the living water” well, yes, it was pretty weird. Anyway, so I suggest he might have trouble getting a drink in this town, especially the way he was going about it, and he starts up again. “People get thirsty again after drinking here” he says, and he’s looking at me sort of differently. Like he knows what’s happening here more than me, and he knows me, and it somehow all makes sense to him (Pause) I don’t know (Pause) well, no it wasn’t creepy. It was a bit scary, but it was sort of… safe, in a way, at the same time. Like I was falling off a cliff, but there was something to catch me (Pause) did that make sense? (Pause) No I didn’t think so. I’m still trying to process this myself so you’re just getting ideas as they come. (Pause)

Well then he suddenly breaks the atmosphere and tells me to get my husband (Pause) well, yes. If it was anyone else I would say it was rude, but with him… Anyway, I just say “I don’t have one” and try to change the subject but he says “well at least you’re honest” and he looked at me and tells me everything. (Pause) Everything: All the marriages and the yucky stuff and everything and its’ the same as before, like he knows everything, like he’s some kind of prophet. So I asked him some kind of question. Oh, Something about how they do religion here and his lot do it over there, I don’t know. And he just says “That won’t matter much longer” As if he’s got the inside scoop again. So I say, oh, right when Messiah turns up it’ll all be easy, right? And then… and then, he just says: “I am Messiah.” (Pause, but this one is more for Julia to think than because of an interruption) Just like he was saying his name. It was really quiet, the way he said it but I got the feeling that if he said it any louder the whole valley would shake. How else did he know so much? It’s not like a rabbi could go and ask around the village is it?

What? Oh. He’s still there. His followers came and I ran home and picked up the phone and now I don’t know what to do next but I’ll have to do something quick or I might explode. Look: come and see him (Pause) I don’t care what the neighbours think. I’ve never cared less what they think. In fact I’ll go and tell them as well! (Pause) no I’m not going religious. I might be going a bit crazy, but that’s okay mum. Really. It’s okay… Look. I’m going back. I’ll see you there if you want to come. And mum? it really will be alright… Everything is going to be alright… Love you. (Puts phone downs and leaves)

Backyard Theater - Bringing Neighbors Together from Bill Kinnon on Vimeo.

This is a great interview from Bill Kinnon with Vince DiPersio about Backyard Theatre. Being British I assumed that ‘theater’ meant theatre: live presentations and storytelling. He’s talking about film, but it still works the same. The basic idea is to set up a small scale presentation in a garden where anyone can come and see. I’ll let you watch the video to see what happens next.

Imagine doing this with theatre, or film. Or a mix of both. We don’t need a massive venue, not even an indoor venue. It doesn’t have to be in a church. The equipment doesn’t have to be big and heavy either: all we need is a power supply for the projector, or in the case of theatre, a space, which makes it quite possible to tour by bike or public transport in an emergency. Making the material of sufficient quality which would take a lot of work, but the potential for building relationships and community getting to know people  without preaching at them would be massive.

All I need to do is find a garden.

The alarm clock explodes at 0630.

My sleep-addled brain tries to figure why I set it for that time. Then something switches on and I remember that today a group of us are supposed to cycle to Gutenberg today, a small village cosseted in the limestone hills called the Swabian Alb.  It’s 80km there and back, and it is along a valley, so it will take something like four hours or more at our sedate pace, which It’s a good opportunity to spend time with some of the young people and do some discipleship. That’s the theory anyway.

There are three of us riding today: Andi, Alex, and I, and we’re supposed to meet at 0730. We’re an odd mix in many ways: Andi is chronically deaf, so he has to lip-read a lot of what we say. There is a difference in German between the pronunciation for Andi and Andy, but it’s lost on both of us, causing headaches for Alex who is by default the best linguist despite growing up in Romania until he was six.

Leaving Ostfildern is easy. It’s an 11% downhill, dead straight, for half a kilometre. The Körsch valley is clear and the sun is just escaping the hills as we weave through villages for about ten kilometres and climb up a mercifully short hill headed for Köngen.

The Swabian Alb aren’t tall but they are dramatic, and we get out first view of them at this point, made deep grey by sunrise and distance, rising out of the plains like a distant army. We’ve got to get there, and My stomach is reminding me that I neglected my breakfast. Worse, I neglected to pack any food in the rush of getting the boys ready for the day before I left. We’re approaching Köngen, where there is a grocery shop, and I ask if we can stop.

Andi laughs and rolls his eyes, Alex looks pitying.
“You poor old thing. Have you taken your tablets?”

We cross the river on an old bridge, now reserved for pedestrians and bikes. At the other side we follow the railway along the valley. The cunning plan is to stick to the railway so that if we have a puncture or similar we can leap on a handy train and go home. I already did this on a previous attempt to reach Gutenberg in September when I ran out of time at Lenningen and had to go home. I’m hoping today will be different.

We make fast progress, along a mostly surfaced cycleway alongside the railway. After Kirchheim the towns become villages, and the broad plain narrows to a steep sided valley. We follow Feldwege from village to village, crossing the river on stone bridges. We pass the end of the railway at Oberlenningen, and the valley changes again, taking on a more Alpine appearance. We are into headwater country, and the previously languid river is now a collection of narrow, busy streams. Two more corners in the valley and we reach our destination of Gutenberg, which could audition for a picture postcard except that its only one of dozens of small villages with timber framed houses and picturesque churches. I insist on making a celebratory lap of the village square. The others think I’m mad.

Unusually there isn’t a severe headwind on the return, so we’re far faster than going and cross the Neckar by lunchtime. Andi and Alex, being German, take their food and drink very seriously, so Andi buys bread and ham,and turns his bike into a small kitchen, while Alex looks for a Cappuccino. I’m not sure the cheap sugar filled plastic imitation he finds fulfils all his dreams, but it’s that or nothing. It seems to hit the spot too: for the next 15km he’s a speck in the distance, burning up the road on a caffeine high.

When we get back it’s early afternoon and the computer shows 81km. (ca. 50 miles). We don’t even have to drive around the village to make it tip over the 80 mark. Not much anyway.

Easter is here, and I’m not going to attampt to write anything deep about it, just enjoy the wonder of this incredible father-and-son plan to save the world. If you want more ‘depth’, try these posts: Why did Jesus Die? from Kingdom Grace, and  Seeing what love has done on Jesus Manifesto.

Meanwhile, in the words of our communion service: ‘We no longer need to regret the things of the past, or to fear what is to come”.

Time to play with my boys.

(Cartoon from ASBO Jesus)

We were short on time, in more ways than one. We had two rehearsals to prepare the Saturday night theatre piece, which was difficult enough, but the piece was to precede a satellite link which would kick in at exactly 7:45 (and this being Germany you know it’s going to be exactly 7:45, no later) so we had to be absolutely sure we could get the presentation done and finished and out of the way before the screen lit up with the film from Chemnitz. The team had put in a huge amount of effort and the presentation of the piece looked fairly good. Unfortunately it was ten minutes long, which wasn’t so good: we only had five. Worse still, we were only a couple of hours from the start of the evening programme.
Out came the pencil and I started cutting text, making big thick graphite lines through the dialogue, I nearly got a mutiny from the team, but the next time we ran it it was still eight minutes, so out came the pencil again, and this time I cut out everything that wasn’t essential to telling the story: every bit where something was repeated for comedy effect, every little routine, over-used adjective, list or unnecessary bit of dialogue disappeared amid howls of protest from the team. Eventually I relented a bit and allowed some banter between the main character and the narrator, but other than that, a lot of material disappeared under a mass of graphite. It was just after six when we ran another rehearsal with the clock running and came under six minutes. That was good enough for me, and anyway we were really out of time: we had to race downstairs to the church for the final rehearsal. We rehearsed, got ready, and then everyone raced home for thirty minutes before reappearing in costume just before 7:15. We met in a side room, prayed, covered any unanswered questions, someone gave me a name badge, and I went and sat down to watch the team get on with it.
And as usual they did a great presentation. They were holding scripts, but with a few days rehearsal that was a necessary evil, and they even managed some fun improvisation using the script sheets. Then as soon as it began it was over, the band came on and the team members slunk in just as the satellite link started and several thousand people in Chemnitz waved at us.

Hat tip to Liam Kinnon for the video:

If you want to do a street outreach, do it like this. I don’t mean everybody dance (Come on, would I say that?) I mean stop trying to preach at people and make something good, creative and fun that people will enjoy and want to watch. Within seconds of this starting people are watching, then smiling, then talking and laughing and dancing, lost in the wonder of it all, and this, mark you, in a major European rail hub.

I’ve never seen this when christians do an ‘outreach’. Why not? what would be wrong with creating a moment of beauty that brings joy and laughter to a lot of people, without expecting a ‘payment’ in terms of discussions or conversions?

How about, instead of hoping for conversions, we start to try and bring God’s Kingdom wherever we go. Try this for a set of criteria for the next street outreach:

• Well prepared (see video below)
• Fun to be a part of.
• No expectation of a payoff from spectators.
• Pulls people into the sheer joy of what’s going on, so they want to be part of it too.

If you try it, please send a video.

Here’s the ‘Making of’ video, which shows how much went into the piece: