Entries tagged with “koinonia” from FaithBasedBlog.com

Perhaps I should just cave into a moment of honesty and admit to a series of rants here. But that's not my intent, so I'll decline. I'm instantly over the realization that I was effectively bounced by a pre-teen at KidsLife; I've resolved whatever internal conflict I might have previously had with regard to the element of a rant in my second excerpt of Peterson's "Christ Plays ...." So given those entries, I'm reluctant to add the following. I said reluctant ... not unwilling.

So, without giving away any details or telling tales out of school, there was a point made on one solitary moment this past week that just rested on my mind in an incredibly uncomfortable way. It was in regard to Koinonia and the small group discussion format. What registered with me was that it seems there was one person (with conversational agreement from another) that spoke negatively of being forced to have "cheap conversation" with people we don't know. I didn't think much of that at the time - other than to turn my attention to any conversation more positive than this.

That phrase apparently had ample opportunity to sink in. And, in the words of Simon Cowell, "if I'm being honest ..." the delayed reaction on my part was probably on par with one of the more comical Marcos Witt, "Hey Buddy!" type of moments. That's at least the honest reaction I now have to revisiting the conversation.

But my point isn't to passively instruct anyone else why they're wrong about this. It's to highlight something for those going forward in any small group environment that's similar to ours in Koinonia. The concept of herding a large group of folks at once and sorting them out into tables of 8 or so means that a variety of methods take place at once. On one side of the extreme, there's the cliquish table where every seat is saved and the message to any first-timer is simply "You're not one of us." At the other end, you get what I've sometimes lovingly referred to as a table of leftovers ... the people who don't fit into any particular clique, aren't good at fitting into cliques in general, and oftentimes - people who have never met one another.

And that's sorta where the "cheap conversation" crank comes in. I don't doubt that there are numerous beneficial and productive personality types beyond my own that don't adapt as easily to groups of total strangers. And to some - or, more precisely: many - it's tough to have a genuine conversation with people you've known for a grand sum of 2 minutes.

What I find unsettling, however, is that the concept of "cheap conversation" isn't a reflection of the format - as was the point in the version I heard. If I can offer this as nonjudgementally as possible, I'd suggest that it's more a reflection of the conversant. Think about it. What makes you engage in conversation that you would openly confess to as "cheap?" Is it some forcible social custom that leads you to a table that is essentially the anti-Cheers - where nobody knows your name? Or is it that we guard ourselves so heavily - well beyond what might be necessary - that we fail to make any genuine connection to someone that we're exchanging words with?

Now, I offer that with every effort to not judge the person who offered this opinion. I've been at tables where even I have to admit that the conversation - what little there was - was cheap, disposable, and seemingly non-productive. In part, that's what drove me to facilitating a table. I figured if I couldn't rely on some other MVP to crack my own introvert qualities (lovely thought they may be), I'd simply have to be the change I was looking for. I'm equally sure that, more often than not, I failed at this mission. Part of the growth process, I suppose. As luck would have it, I now get the thrill of sitting in a booth and pushing buttons during this time. Yet, in an odd way, there's a small group that forms around that as well. It's as if I've stumbled, tripped, and fallen down a flight of stairs to eventually find something of a community.

Unfortunately, I don't know of a better approach than the stumbling, tripping, and falling down a flight of stairs approach. But, for the life of me, I fail to see fault in the format or concept of Koinonia in any situation where I find myself in cheap conversation based on people I don't know, people I don't want to get to know, or people I wish I wasn't around. When I'm in those situations, I've got nobody to blame but myself. That's blame for not taking the time or interest to see past whatever it is that's holding me up with this human being that God has given insurpassable worth to; that could probably use an ounce of grace for every hundred that I need; that may have some need being met in genuine conversation that is totally out of my line of sight. In other words, if I see the conversation as cheap, then I have a hard time concluding that I'm viewing this person as cheap. And that is, I suppose, why this remark sank so deeply in me - to the point worth being blogged about. If someone sets foot in my church, earnestly seeks to go about engaging in community with fellow believers, I would have nothing but dreaded fear of being judged right then and there for my thoughts.

I'm not sure exactly how universal my conclusion is to every similar scenario here ... but I'm willing to start with the hypothesis that it's more prevalent than the one that blames the format.

Any other thoughts on this?

To the extent that this is deemed a rant, then {/rant}. I'll have far more glowing verbosity come Monday. Anyone who a) saw the service and b) knows me ... knows why.

For whatever reason, I opt to head back downtown to the office after church Saturday night. I think it's just a whole lotta reasons bundled up into one timely sense of urgency, perhaps. It seems that after the Wednesday service I was so amped to listen to the service over and over again, I may have gotten a bit too much. By the next day, I was:

a) beyond tired from lack of sleep, and
b) ready to listen to anything BUT Lakewood music

Just for a momentary change of pace, mind you. By Saturday night, I was right where I needed to be in order to regain my appreciation of the musical side of Lakewood. Adding to matters, it was apparently decided that Aimee Beard would be performing a solo once more. Three guesses as to what's on display here come Monday.

Just to add to matters, the sleep schedule is a bit out of whack, I've got work stuff to catch up on, and it seems wholly justifiable to my way of thinking that I do that overnight and catch the Sunday service toward the end of this hideously scheduled day.

Anyways, I arrive downtown. After picking up a late meal, I'm headed down Main St. sticking out like a sore thumb. It's the peak club-hopping hour and I'm dressed in work casual, with a non-descript notebook, a small Bible, and a Eugene Peterson book I desperately need to finish. I look neither hip, urban, young, or cool.

First person that intersects with me extends a card my way and asks if I want to go to "their club." He puts such an awkward emphasis on that phrase that I think it's probably just another street evangelist hawking his wares in order to claim a successful evening of passing out cards. Nevermind that Bible in my hand might tip off a few folks ... even though it was late ... and dark ... and there's nothing that really stands out about this Bible except that it's small enough to not break my wrist after lugging it around all day. I smile, take the card and move on. Every weekend there seems to be a few of these folks. Bumped into one the day before. They're always creative cards you end up with. Alas, this one was for a real club. I just can't help but wonder what about me looked like the type of guy who was cool enough to walk into a place that has $5 Mojitos "b4 12am." Somehow I don't think it was the type of outting that Pastor Hunter was referring to ... nor do I think Rob Bell was going to be delivering a sermon there. So I passed.

After I cross the street, I'm in a difficult-to-navigate section of Main. The line of folks to get into the clubs closer to my office manage to block the street. It's not uncommon to fight for space on the streets with actual cars. After I get to some particularly tight section of sidewalk, I notice there's a group of four college-aged guys doing the "Bullhorn Guy" routine. Only without the bullhorn. So it's really just "Loudmouth Guy" ... and his posse. No cards, no pamphlets, just four really mean-looking kids, a milk crate, and two very loud vocal chords. And nobody seems overly interested in them.

Far more productive, we were treated to a couple of songs from one of Lakewood's Spanish worship team guitarists - Miguel. Interesting testimony given Saturday night. It seems he had given up guitar for a long time, picked it back up after arriving at church and now does a pretty good job of ministering through music. The guy had all of Koinonia singing in Spanish for half of each song. Part of his message was that it's never too late. He offered himself as an example. He had just turned 30. Well, this soon-to-be 40 yr old has also been picking up an old guitar when time permits. Hopefully by the time the clock turns over, I'll have enough practice to do a little project I've got in mind.