A few weeks ago, Dave Ferguson summarized Frederick Buechner’s famous quote as his Facebook and Twitter status: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

I wrestle with this perspective because I have yet to find my “deep gladness.” Believe me, I’ve tried—I’ve prayed, fasted, and evaluated my spiritual gifts. (For the record, I don’t know what those are, either.) I’ve “first, broken all the rules” and “now, discovered my strengths.” I even participated in a very thorough and helpful SIMA analysis. (At the end the consultant told me he thought my profile and giftedness is the same as Martha Stewart’s except I’m not a jerk. Except he didn’t say jerk.)

I care about things; I’m all for clean water in Africa and ending urban poverty and planting new churches. I like most animals more than many humans and I’m good at growing tomatoes. But I wouldn’t say drilling wells or starting churches or protecting animals or feeding the poor (even with my produce) are consuming passions.

For years I thought it was just a matter of pointing the flashlight at the right corner of my soul—that a latent passion would spring into life if I strained the eyes of my heart into the dark. I remember saying in college, when I first hit my head against this wall while trying to choose a major, “If God would just TELL me what he wants me to do with my life, I would do it. Anything. He knows I will. Why won’t he tell me?”

I thought everyone had felt a call on their life and had a passion for something and struggled with burdens on their hearts during seasons of ministry and other such Christianese crap. (Perhaps the Martha Stewart comment has some truth.)

And I think some people do, just as I think God probably does handpick spouses for a few people. What safety, what comfort in those thoughts! But how much scarier to ponder the (much more biblical) feedback I received from one wise mentor: What if there are many professions we can pursue and people we could marry? What if God gives us guidelines for making the decisions but loves us enough to give us freedom? What if he’ll be pleased with any choice as long as we honor him while living it out?

I re-posted the quote on my own Facebook and Twitter pages with the question, “What if you have no great passion?” And another wise friend commented, “The Bible says to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. Love God and love others. We make it way too hard.”

I don’t think Buechner is a bad guy (or Dave, for that matter—he’s a great guy). But I have some problems with American Christianity’s myth that God will map out our lives for us. Perhaps his great gladness is watching us chart the course for ourselves.

Chicken Soup for the NASCAR Soul

Being afraid of any bug you can kill with one stomp.

Why we use those little fish food pellets for communion. We have multi-million dollar sound systems. Bread is too expensive?

Why none of the children I grew up with had peanut allergies, but today every third kid swells up if he walks past a jar of JIF.

The parents who bring two year olds to the 10:00 movie. I know, you can’t get a sitter and you, wrongly, believe your child will fall asleep or play quietly. Let me tell you what will really happen: he will wriggle and wail and neither you nor anyone else in the theater will enjoy (or hear) the movie they paid $11 to see.

Decorative soap.

Why one of my investment reports arrives wrapped in thick black plastic. My mailman probably thinks I’m ordering porn.

Being passive-aggressive. It requires so much more energy in the long run.

Non-Italians who pronounce ricotta “Reeh-coht-tah.” (Maybe that’s something I find annoying, not confusing. Hmm—another list idea.)

Why I have to remove my shoes and scrimp on shampoo to get through airport security but the catering people and luggage handlers who actually spend their days hanging around airplanes receive only occasional security checks.

People who ask a question and then interrupt you as you start to answer.

Why church leaders obsessed with “cultural relevance” also preach 35 minute sermons.

Further confusion here.

I’m guessing at least 50% of you attended a “Harvest Party” or “Trunk-n-Treat” at your church last month, and at least 25% more attend a church that held one.

Which is all fine, as far as it goes, although I take issue with two of the most commonly given reasons for these sugar-fests: that they provide a safer alternative to traditional trick or treating, and that they are a powerful outreach activity to the community.

Although some local news stations still dust off the razor-blades-in-the-apples story each October, Snopes.com disproved every instance of candy tampering ever reported in conjunction with Halloween. It’s just a myth—as is, most likely, the adult who actually gave apples.

These events also fail to reach our communities. Lots of people may show up and the church might receive some good press. A few families may even return for a weekend worship service because of the experience they have on your campus—although I’d bet a Snickers bar your church doesn’t know if that’s happening. Meanwhile, we spend hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars recruiting volunteers, organizing games, and haranguing church members for candy donations.

Or there’s Christmas. I don’t have the Snopes link to prove it, but do you know anyone who became a Christian because of a Christmas cantata? Usually the audience for such things is comprised of the family and friends of those in the choir, most of whom are already believers. (This is doubly true for children’s programs.) Again, the investment of time and energy  is out of all proportion to the spiritual ROI.

If we really want to show love to our neighbors at Halloween, we could follow the example of my own parents, who make a big pot of apple cider, park themselves in lawn chairs at the bottom of their driveway, and give cups of the hot drink to every tired, cold parent who comes along with his tiny princess/pirate/Disney character. They talk to their neighbors, serve them in a small way, extend friendship, and ooh and aah over little people in costumes. (They give candy, too, the good stuff—kids aren’t excited about cider.)

Or, like Journey Christian Church, we could organize a “Light Night” and challenge members to creatively transform their homes into places of light and welcome on this traditionally dark evening. My fellow blogger Arron, who serves as senior minister at Journey, says the church offered a variety of ways for people to participate (set up games or bounce houses, make popcorn or cotton candy, host costume contests, and–yes!–give out hot cider). Members were encouraged to distribute info about Journey’s programs for kids and copies of the Gospel of John along with the candy.

At Christmas, what if we asked church members to spend Wednesday night having dinner with a non-Christian neighbor instead of attending choir practice with lots of already-Christians? What if, instead of lining the sanctuary with video cameras to capture Junior’s debut as wiseman #3, we opened our homes for Advent parties for all our kid’s friends?

I’m really not lecturing—there’s more I can do in this area, too. But let’s be honest—we do Fall Fests and Christmas pageants because these things make us feel good. If we really wanted to serve and reach non-Christians, we’d be doing something else.

I’ve written before (here and here and here….okay, a lot) about prayer. I don’t get how it works. I don’t always believe that it works. I don’t know why I get yes answers to some things and silence to others and no answers to others. I don’t know what God causes and what he allows. I’m skeptical and cynical about other people’s God-is-awesome Facebook status updates “claiming the victory” for continual blessings.

Since you’ve tolerated my ramblings on this subject (oh yes, there are more……here, and here, and here), I wanted to let you know I finally figured out my theology on this subject:

I don’t understand it. I probably won’t understand it in this lifetime. I’m still suspicious if you claim to understand it. But I believe Jesus is real and He’s listening.

That’s all I’ve got.

One moment someone whispers, “Thank you.”

Just then another heart cries, “How could you?”

And Jesus, who sees us,

He says, “I hear you.”

“I’m near you.”

It may be miles and miles before the journey’s clear

There may be rivers, maybe oceans of tears

But the very hand that shields your eyes from understanding

Is the hand that will be holding you for miles

I’d like to propose a new political party.

“Conservatives” are generally against abortion and for the death penalty. Liberals are often for abortion and against the death penalty. Yes, these are generalizations, but I’m a politician now.

What’s interesting are the many issues concerned with living life, not just entering it and leaving it: conserving the environment, ending slavery and trafficking, reducing poverty, improving health care, controlling access to guns, and others. Although many of these are also considered “liberal,” sincere thinkers in both parties feel strongly about these issues.

In fact, Gallup reports the number of moderates is growing. In weekly surveys since January 2007, more people identified themselves as “Independents” (instead of Republicans or Democrats) 71% of the time.

Many Americans feel the current red and blue polarities in this country, which are becoming more polarized all the time, do not offer the flexibility for a world of blended colors. I believe science has proven babies are alive before they leave the womb and should be protected, but I’d like to see us take better care of the planet they’re inheriting. I think it’s a crime that 20,000 people die each year because they can’t afford medical care and that every developed country in the world except the US takes care of its own citizens (T.R. Reid), but I also think a government-created solution has risks.

As much as we might prefer it, complex social, cultural and political issues are not adequately addressed by pat answers from the red or the blue (or, ahem, hyperbolic sound bites about “death panels.”) It’s time for a Purple Party.

The people who meander through the middle of a crowded mall, airport or movie theater and just STOP in the middle of the stream, looking around with confused faces, oblivious to the human traffic piling up behind them. Bonus points if they run over toes with strollers or suitcases.

The biathlon. Does anyone except Jason Bourne need to ski cross-country while shooting a rifle?

Becoming a proctologist. The money must be great.

Why Subway puts oil and vinegar all over their subs, then gives you one napkin.

Parents who constantly holler at their kids for being kids—i.e. curious, talkative, busy. Start saving now for their therapy.

Those ducks people dress up and place outside their front doors.

Joining “causes” on Facebook. Am I missing the way this is helping?

Pastors who think it’s a good idea to have their son as associate pastor, wife as women’s ministry director, daughter as children’s director, etc……and the elders who allow it.

Why the ice cream truck in my neighborhood played “Silent Night” all summer.

Beauty pageants.

Beauty pageants for girls under 18.

Beauty pageants for girls under 8.

More here.

As thrilling as my Labor Day activities are (a long nap on the couch and vacuuming up wallpaper scraps from a weekend extravaganza of DIY), I keep thinking about a Facebook conversation last week. On Friday, I realized it had been several years since I’d participated in a small group and I didn’t miss it at all. I posted this thought on Facebook and Twitter to see if others agreed or if I was a spiritual leper, and got a mixture of responses.

One insightfully pointed out that introverts like me don’t feel the need for this kind of enforced togetherness as much as more extroverted temperaments do, but it’s still important.

Another agreed that if you have a healthy support system of friends and read the Bible on your own, a group’s not necessary.

Others said perhaps we should focus on what we bring to a group rather than what we get from it; one lamented this perspective as the churchy argument of small group gurus, another kindly defended it.

I’ve written about this issue before; when I joined a group in California a few years ago it struck me I already had a small group of close friends to “do life with” and wasn’t likely to build similar relationships with a gaggle of acquaintances over discussions of John Ortberg books and lukewarm soda.

I still feel that way, but last week’s FB conversation showed I am not just pragmatic, I’m selfish—because I don’t want to give up 2-4 hours a week to “be a blessing” in a group I get nothing from. I’m not interested in praying for your son’s friend’s mother’s job, or hearing you tell a group member every week that they need to “just trust God,” or listening as someone pontificates her opinions about the assigned chapter she didn’t read.

“The bottom line for me is that, as Christians, we are all part of the body of Christ,” wrote the small groups supporter on Facebook. “No matter how flawed we may be, we need to stick together and find some way to be connected with other Christians…it doesn’t have to be the same for everyone…it might be a small group, a Sunday school class, a service group, the list goes on…but we shouldn’t be out there all by ourselves, even if we think we are fine.”

I can’t argue with that, but I also refuse to spend another night of my life forcing artificial community with strangers. I think the solution is LTGs.

Neil Cole, author of Organic Church, Search and Rescue and Organic Leadership, has built a church planting movement around these Life Transformation Groups. Each group has just two or three members of the same gender, and each member reads lots of scripture (around 30 chapters each week), confesses his sins to the others, and prays with them for others who need Christ.

Like so many other things, this idea’s simplicity is its effectiveness. A focus on Scripture—not study guides or “Christian living” books—can challenge anyone from day-old believers to lifetime Christians. Very small groups force authenticity and provide accountability. Confession and prayer cut through Christian cliche and forge the “bonding” small group pastors long for.

It’s a back to basics approach that allows people of every spiritual maturity level to grow deeper, and to do it in community. It’s also the only type of group I’ll consider participating in. Now that I’ve alienated every publisher of small group material, I’ll go back to my Labor Day.

Kids across the country return to school this week, and it makes me sad. Granted there are tons of kids ready to go back, and just because I hated school for 17 years does not mean I am anti-education.

But what happened to the three-month summer? Today’s kids get out in late May, start pencil and scissor shopping in July and are tucked back behind a desk before August even gets going. When I was younger, June, July AND August were sacred, and were spent riding bikes, climbing trees, attending church camp, reading piles of books from the library, scrounging up quarters to pay the late fines, eating popsicles, cannonballing into the pool, sunburning shoulders, and pestering little brothers. Bliss.

Of course, not every child’s summer was so idyllic, and researchers now believe children without access to camps and libraries suffer “summer learning loss.” As a result, more schools, especially in lower-income areas, are extending semesters and school days and shortening summer breaks.

For instance, according to a recent Time magazine article, Cincinnati offered the 13 lowest-performing schools in the city an optional “fifth quarter,” or extra month of classes, this past June. This seems equivalent to offering Guantanamo prisoners an extra four weeks of waterboarding, but Governor Strickland hopes to eventually add the extension to every school in the state.

Others point out our country’s low achievement scores relative to Europe and Asia, and some believe sociological shifts support the extended day. “Our children are no longer working in the fields,” says US Education Secretary Arne Duncan in the same article. “And Mom isn’t waiting at home at 2:30 with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. That just doesn’t happen in American families anymore.”

This seems like a classic mistake of cause and effect. For one, that mom (or dad) who’s not home to greet the children after work may also be too tired to give much help with homework or attend parent-teacher conferences. I’m not trying to open the whole should-women-work topic, because the issue is more complex—both moms and dads (when present) improve their kids’ academic performance by taking an active interest and involvement in the process. Keeping kids in school longer won’t make the parents less stressed or more on-task when the kids finally get home.

Second, many of our schools are already in crisis, with teachers struggling to manage huge classes and dwindling resources. Extending a child’s stay in some of them is about as productive as giving the mouse a bigger wheel to run. Some educators realize this, and are using the extended time as an opportunity to give extra attention to the kids who need it most. “Clearly, focusing on the students that are furthest behind is where it makes the most sense,” says Chris Gabrieli, chairman of Massachusetts 2020, which helped create an experimental extended day program in 26 low-performing schools throughout the state. “Middle-class kids, they get a lot more learning time outside of school—they get tutors, they get arts programs, they get music programs, they get summer camps.”

And so we return to my own memories of summer, three predictably wonderful months ending with predictably pathetic tears on Labor Day. Because I had the benefit of those enrichment activities, plus a good public school and involved parents, I graduated at the top of a big class and earned a 31 on my ACT. Although the meager bragging rights of that sentence are about the total good the ACT did me, neither did the long summers do me any harm.

A few more hours each week might help our students become more competitive, but our parents and schools also have a few things to learn. Let’s use the time we have more effectively before piling more onto little sunburned shoulders.

Jay (18:31:28) Hello Jennifer, Thank you for contacting Comcast Live Chat Support. Please give me one moment to review your information.

Jay (18:31:39) Okay. Sure.

Jay (18:31:40) Before anything else, can you please provide the complete account holder’s name, account number, as well as the account service address?

Jennifer (18:32:09) Name is Jennifer Taylor, address is xxxxxxxxxx

Jennifer (18:32:28) I think my account number is xxxxxxxx-x

Jennifer (18:32:44) At least that is what this service ticket says

Jay (18:34:03) What is your questions, Jennifer?

Jennifer (18:36:08) Okay: I previously lived at xxxxxxxxxx. I had basic cable at about $12/month and internet for $35.99/mo. Last week I called to cancel service there and begin service here. Today the techs came and installed my internet. I noticed that according to the work order my new monthly total will be $62.95. But I told the person on the phone when I set up the appointment that I currently do not own a TV and no longer need the TV service. So I think my bill should be closer to the $36 plus fees.

Jay (18:37:11 ) Thank you for that information.

Jay (18:37:29) So the services that were installed today were cable and internet, is that correct?

Jennifer (18:37:37) No, just internet.

Jay (18:38:25) Thank you for that information.

Jay (18:39:04) Jennifer, I can only see internet service to be installed and no installation for cable tv.

(Right, that’s what I said…..twice.)

Jennifer (18:39:36) Okay, the point is I just want to make sure when I get my first bill that I will only be billed for internet service. Can you confirm that and tell me the monthly estimated total?

Jay (18:42:17) Jennifer, I understand that your service was just installed today, is that correct?

Jennifer (18:42:21) yes

Jay (18:48:04) Thank you very much for patiently waiting. I would just like to set expectations that your services will be fully activated 48-72 hours after installation. As of now, your services are still not fully activated that is why no bill has been generated yet.

Jay (18:50:33) However, I would just like to assure you that only internet service is indicated here for installation.

Jennifer (18:50:44) Thank you for verifying that. But surely you can tell me now what the monthly rate is for internet service. That’s what I need to know.

(Two minutes pass, inexplicably.)

Jay (18:52:08) You are most welcome.

(crickets chirping. Two more minutes.)

Jennifer (18:54:09) So can you tell me what the monthly internet cost is?

Jay (18:54:59) One moment please.

(Six moments.)

Jennifer (19:00:19) I just need to know Comcast’s monthly rate for internet in my area. That’s it.

Jay (19:00:41) Thank you for patiently waiting.

analyst Jay has been temporarily disconnected.  Please wait while the analyst attempts to reconnect.

analyst Jay has entered room

Jay (19:02:57) The monthly rate in your area for internet is $19.99.

(Physically resist every urge to type, “See, that wasn’t so hard.”)

Jennifer (19:03:24) Great. Thanks.

Jay (19:05:31) I also sent a copy of the bill to your billing address for you to verify, Jennifer.

Jennifer (19:05:56) But I thought you said a bill couldn’t be generated yet.

Jay (19:07:23) Yes.

Jennifer (19:07:36) Okay. I think we’re done here.

Jay (19:09:13) Thank you for choosing Comcast and have a great day!

08/21/09 UPDATE: Received bill. For $62.95.

When I was young, my parents determined what I ate, what I wore and—as much as is possible with a strong-willed child—how I behaved. (They also determined the punishments when I misbehaved.) That’s what parents do.

Now my folks and I relate as adults. I still honor their role, and I try to submit to them as I would to any other believer, but all three of us set boundaries and make our own choices. We even argue occasionally.

In last week’s enews from Crossroads Christian Church in Anthem, AZ, lead pastor Steve Wyatt wrote about the difference between parent-child forms of interaction (in which one participant assumes a domineering role and the other passively submits) and the adult-adult form (in which two adults relate to each other as peers).

Steve says, “Far too often, the church traffics in the realm of the Parent-Child relationship. Leaders function in the role of the authoritative “Dad” and faithfully discharge their duties in a rather dictatorial fashion.

In some church traditions, Christians aren’t taught how to think, they’re told what to think. They’re handed a creedal statement and told to memorize it. Young people are given lists of ‘Do’s and Don’ts’ rather than schooled in the art of discernment and wisdom…..

The fact is, the single most popular approach in religion is the Jim Jones model of discipleship (remember him?). He’s the grape Kool-Aid cult leader who led nearly 1000 people to follow him right into the jaws of self-imposed death. That’s the approach of many in religious circles: Treat your flock like mindless children. Demand their acquiescence. Keep them dependent on you and you alone for life’s answers. Create dependency over discipleship.

That’s the Parent-Child approach to church leadership. And it works. In fact, dare I say it? Most of the so-called ‘megachurches’ in our culture function according to this model.”

These are bold statements. And, in some ways, correct ones. I know several megachurch ministers who prefer this parent-child method. (I’ll send you a list for $19.95 plus shipping and handling.)

I also know some who take this approach with their staff; in fact, just last week I heard about another one, a pastor who, without all the facts, belittled a staff member’s ministry and questioned the person’s key relationships under the guise of helping the person “be a good example.” Instead of acting like a spiritual leader, inviting the staff member’s perspective, or—at the least—treating the person like a team member, the pastor mandated conformity to his uninformed ideas of what the staffer’s life should look like.

But I also know senior leaders who quite rightly would bristle at the implication they want church members or staff to mindlessly follow them. Of course, they teach the scriptures unapologetically; adult-adult relationships are not about diluting the truth or making everyone feel good. But some issues really do have more gray than black and white, and many leaders really do want people to study, pray, and develop their own faith.

Which is also God’s preference. If anyone has the right to invoke a parent-child dynamic, it’s the Father, but he requires us to make choices, experience consequences and “work out our salvation with fear and trembling.”

It’s easier, quicker, and more satisfying in the short term to tell people what to think, how to behave, or how to feel; it’s much more difficult and time-consuming to dialogue, explain, and listen. It requires more maturity to accept conflict and messiness as part of the process, and to accept that the process may take decades.

Basically, it requires people to be adults, and the root problem is many leaders—in and outside the church—never learned to relate this way. In these situations we must still honor their roles and submit to their authority. But we can also set boundaries, make choices, and even argue occasionally. It’s what adults do.