The Temporary Grease Monkey

Occasionally, during the long haul of our renovations, amid the self-castigating hollers that emanated from this or that corner of the house, Karen would hear a satisfied little chuckle, often followed by my observation that she, in her wisdom, had married "a clever little monkey": some little detail of a renovation task had finally gone just like I wanted it to, and though this was not what I had trained for, I could be momentarily proud of an accomplishment.

Well, after months of job-searching and continuing to work on little bits and pieces of the house, it's time to see how well this clever little monkey can pick up some new manual skills: for about three months, I'll be helping out in a friend's auto shop.  Again, not my first choice, but I'm happy to do it, and I may even survive it (though the first six weeks, where the job overlaps with the second half of my thrice-weekly stationary cycling workouts, should be, um, interesting).  It'll bring in some of that very helpful stuff called money, and it should end, neatly, just about the same time as the New Testament survey course I'll be teaching at Tyndale begins.  But it does mean that I'll have to reassess (again) just how to fit writing into my schedule.  It's likely I won't have a lot of time to reflect on that here -- but I've already created some space in the fall schedule to work on book reviews and a few other small projects, and hopefully whatever God has in store for me after that will allow a little more writing time than full-time automotive work does.  Maybe I'll even manage, through this interval, to learn a little more discipline with my time, so that I can make better use of what time I have after that.  Here's hoping.

Household Gods: Home is Where the Focus Is

July 15th will mark the first anniversary of the day we got the keys to our house.  That evening, we walked around, giddy with the newness of it all, giggling to ourselves and at each other, and pulling back carpets to see what surprises lay underneath.  (What shape were the carpets in, you ask?  Well, 18 hours later, all but one of them were pulled up and taken to the dump.  Nuff said?)   The nicest surprise was the original oak flooring in the entryway and living-dining room -- and in pretty good shape, too.  Months later, I would spend many hours carefully pulling up and replacing damaged boards, and with help from the intrepid Gary Moniz, we were to spend hours more refinishing the floors -- and we couldn't be happier with the results.  But in one spot near the front of the room, what we found that first night was an area where there was probably a hearth: replaced with plywood when the carpet was installed, the area was framed by a nicely inlaid pattern of the same oak.  Ultimately, we ended up making a labyrinth pattern with leftovers from the board-replacing process, and Karen installed a tile mosaic in the center.  

End result: what was once a hearth, quite literally the focus (Latin: hearth) of the room, later covered over, was now reclaimed as a focus, a focal point, again.

Now this got me thinking of ancient Rome (because, as Joss Whedon once admitted about a reference that reminded him of the Millennium Falcon, "most things do").  Thinking of ancient Roman religion may conjure up images of temples dedicated to this or that god or goddess, with offerings made in hopes of an answer to prayers for healing, say, or for a patron god to protect their home city.  But Roman religious life was based in the home; based around the table and the hearth; around showing proper thankfulness to, and care for, the household gods.  These were the lares and penates (lar-ays, pen-ah-tays; more here) -- small statues and mementos representing hero-ancestors and guardians of the home, hearth and storerooms.  (Doctor Who fans may remember a lovely reference to them in a 2008 episode set in Pompeii.)

This history lesson has a point: as we continue to set up our home, what "household gods" are in evidence around our beautiful new focus, the former-and-now-repurposed hearth?  It's tempting to think of "hearth and home" as outmoded, when so many of us have homes without fireplaces (or truly functional ones, at least).  But I think it's still a vital question.  What place does a TV -- or other means of visual entertainment -- have vis-a-vis other focal points in our homes?  (It's not for nothing that I've recently placed a Playmobil figure of a Roman centurion atop our TV, as a reminder about this issue before picking up the remote.) 

 What about our smartphones?  Our games?  Our knickknacks and other pretty things that we devote, perhaps, just a little more attention to than they deserve?  And more broadly, what might our practices and habits -- both within our homes and without -- tell us about where our hearts are, well, focused?  Certainly there are good, life-giving answers to these questions; but there are also answers that are good because they reveal tiny little idolatries that we hadn't seen or copped to before.

For where your treasure is, there your heart(h) will be also. 

Disciplined, the Better to Model Disciplines?

As noted in several of my "more recent" posts, I've been struggling quite a lot with the transition out of the home-renovation stage -- more than eight months of intensive work, almost exclusively on our house (save for a few conference presentations and one teaching opportunity), which I had no time or spare energy to blog about so had to content myself with posting pics on Facebook -- and into the next chapter, In Which I Find Work That Results in a Paycheck.  I have applied to everything from university presses, sessional teaching jobs and nonprofits on the one hand, to CostCo, Rona, Lowe's and local coffee shops on the other.  I still believe I will find work, soon, possibly even work that utilizes some of my best vocational skills.  And I haven't exactly been idle in the interim, either: I've done lots more little things for the house and assembled a book proposal, too.  But the Waiting remains frustrating.  

Not that the Father of the heavenly lights hasn't continued to give good gifts (James 1:17) along the way.  Just yesterday, as I explained Karen's and my vision and purpose for the house at the request of a friend and colleague who will be blogging about us soon, one of his questions nudged me in such a way as to consider this Waiting in a slightly different way.  Now, Karen and I have been careful to acknowledge that the founding of a house for spiritual direction and retreat doesn't mean that we've mastered related disciplines like silence, solitude, or sabbath-keeping; far from it!  No, we've insisted, opening this house will require us to grow in these things in order to model and teach them to our guests.  But even once we'd acknowledged that, it took Jim's questions yesterday to make me realize anew that those who would claim to model disciplines must often first be disciplined, both in the active sense (self-discipline) and the passive (being chastened -- but let's not digress here into a full discussion of what that looks like in the biblical tradition!).  That is, it's almost as if God has us going through a time of re-learning certain disciplines -- in addition to the two years of similar experience, leading up to the envisioning of Lectio House -- before (not just at the same time as) we model them for others.

So the Waiting isn't necessarily any easier.  But it's a gift (a small one, he grumbled semi-gratefully) to know that what has felt like the psalmist's valley of the shadow of death will, with enough perspective, be only the shadow of discipline -- a dark place, yes, but one in which the light can still sometimes break through. 

Sound the Retreat!

Time to sound the retreat.

Why has it been almost 7 months since I last blogged?  As all four of my most regular readers well know, the reason is that Karen and I bought a house last June, and took possession and began renovating in July.  This is what we call Lectio House: a small, urban centre for spiritual direction and retreat, operating in our home.  But in order to make it livable and inviting, we've had to do some major, if largely cosmetic, alterations.  I'll probably write more (*surprised gasp*) about the whole process at more length and depth eventually - the idea of "wrighting" a house is pretty appealing - but for now I will let it be enough to say that this has absorbed almost all of my attention and energy for the last half-year, that this will likely continue for another month at least, and that this is in many ways a profoundly good thing: over the past year, Karen and I have discerned that this house is a significant part of what we are called to do together.  If recent endeavors of learning to mortise and hang doors, paint wood paneling, and lay bamboo flooring will get us there, then  it's all to the good. 

But for two days, it's time for a retreat of our own.  Our friends Peter and Cheryl Tigchelaar have graciously accommodated us at their lovely home so that we can rest tired bodies and worn-out souls.  So that soon we can start the ministry of Lectio House, officially, from a good place of restfulness.

So sound the retreat.  And then it's back to flooring, with a little grading and editing to keep things fun.

Celebrating, Part II

Photos from the book launch are now up -- courtesy of James Wallace Photography. http://goo.gl/uuDxt

Celebrating the Unfolding Mystery

The Scaffold (www.facebook.com/The.Scaffold.book.room) is full.  In fact, the whole TrueCity office that houses our collaborative book room is full -- full of happy people.  About fifty souls have ventured out to James Street North, found their way to our front door (no easy task!) and followed the trail of bread crumbs and homemade signs to the office.  Some of them have known each other for years, through seminaries (most frequently, McMaster Divinity College), churches, camps, TrueCity itself, and various other ministries.  Some meet for the first time tonight, only to find they already have several such communities in common.

There's delicious Venezuelan food.  Here's James Wallace, busily taking photos (hopefully coming soon!).  There are people asking me about how we got this whole thing -- the Scaffold itself, as well as tonight's event -- started.  The hubbub and even some of the people have spilled out into the hallway.  And here and there, through the crowd, you can find glimpses of the reason we've gathered.  Dr. Michael Knowles is signing copies of his book, hugging longtime friends, leading toasts, and every now and then, just grinning, quietly and happily overwhelmed, both by the journey involved in finally getting The Unfolding Mystery of the Divine Name: The God of Sinai in Our Midst published, as well as by the sheer number of folks who wanted to come, to celebrate, to bless him -- not least because of how much God has already used him to bless them.

I invite everyone to find seats; there are almost enough.  I explain a little about what the Scaffold is supposed to be, and I tell a quick story, a few jokes and a few details about our speaker.  We welcome him and he tells us about this book's journey.  He reads a page or two from the book.  We ask questions; he tells us what he's learned during the writing of it, and how pivotal it is that we understand and imitate (as best we can!) the character and characteristics of our gracious, compassionate God.  He points to the effects that this theology of encounter has had not just in his own life but in those of his students.  There are nods and perhaps a quiet "amen" or two.

We stack some of the chairs to give ourselves more room to spread out and talk, and the evening begins to wind down.  We've sold about 30 copies of Michael's book.  (He's still grinning.)  We've been blessed and we've been a blessing.  

Finally, the few of us left stack up a few more chairs, clean up, carry books and leftover food back to cars, and close up shop.  It's been a good night.  So we keep the homemade signs.  Hopefully we'll have the chance to use them again soon, to encourage Michael and other local authors who want to get their books into the hands of ministry leaders and friends who can use them.  That's what this place is all about.

Go for Launch

One of the coolest things about the planning and founding of The Scaffold has been what we might call a convergence of hopes and visions: at several stages along the way, as soon as I've voiced a new idea, I find out others in Hamilton were/are planning (or hoping for) something beautifully similar.

• I suggested something along the lines of a bookstore or shared book room; it turned out two friends had envisioned similar initiatives but either hadn't gotten a response or hadn't had time or space to implement their ideas.
• The Scaffold began to take shape and found a temporary home; and I learned that a church in Hamilton was exploring the idea of a Christian library and coffeehouse downtown.  Will that plan coincide with The Scaffold's need for a new home at the end of 2013?  Too soon to tell, but it's cool that God is drawing things like this in close parallel.
• Perhaps coolest of all: I wondered whether my doctoral supervisor and friend, Dr. Michael Knowles, was planning on having a book launch for his long-anticipated new book; when I asked, he got really excited, as he's been hoping to have a launch/party to celebrate, but wasn't sure where or how to plan it.  Hmmmm.

Enter The Scaffold -- because while it's primarily a space to plan and work on kingdom-building projects, it can also be a place to share thoughts together, and to celebrate the release of books full of really important thoughts.  And no sooner had we begun to plan for this event than four or five more potential launches or author chats began to pop up and fall into place.  Suddenly, this could be a regular thing, encouraging, celebrating, and learning from local authors who have something important to say that Christian leaders in Hamilton need to hear.  That doesn't mean there are no challenges involved.  There are logistics to work out in each case, and finances, too.  And of course there's the tension of asking folks to come to a space designed for sharing books in order to buy their own copies of a new book.  But I think the chance to do that encouraging-celebrating-learning-from thing makes it worthwhile to work within that tension.  It's an exciting new part of this experiment.

Oh, and speaking of, if you haven't already been invited: come to The Scaffold, 500 James North, Suite 200, Hamilton, on Sunday, November 4, at 7:30.  Michael will talk a little about his book, we'll toast its publication, you can ask questions, get yourself some refreshments, and buy yourself a shiny new autographed copy of The Unfolding Mystery of the Divine Name: The God of Sinai in Our Midst, a wonderfully deep meditation on the attributes of God as outlined in Exodus 34 and other texts in the same tradition.  Come hang out and build something with us.

Constructing the Scaffold

Hamilton's TrueCity movement of churches (http://truecityhamilton.ca/) will shortly be announcing the formation of The Scaffold, a book room intended to serve as a resource for pastors and ministry leaders.  

I think it's an exciting project, but I'm a bit biased; I'm managing it.

But Matt, you finished your Ph.D in something ending in "-ology."  Shouldn't you be teaching somewhere with pomp and circumstance and stuff?

Maybe.  I've tried to.  I'm still trying to.  I'd still like to.  But that avenue is very crowded right now, and there's a need here that involves stewarding my teaching and research skills a little differently.  The Scaffold, as friends and I have envisioned it over the past few months, will be a space where we can work on sermons, papers, and other projects,  A space for working individually or together.  With maybe some coffee.  And possibly some cookies.  I wouldn't be a very good Baptist if sharing food wasn't in the vision somewhere.  It's a place that I and others will be able to work productively and cooperatively, hopefully sharing books we don't need to keep at home -- and hopefully getting more and better work done, and maybe even learning from one another, in the process.  And this may well offer opportunities to teach, consult, etc. in related capacities, outside the academic settings to which I'm accustomed.

Some details, for those who are interested (specialists in redaction criticism will note that the language of these and other features of this post overlap with the TrueCity announcement.  I would posit that the author and the TrueCity site shared a common source.  Feel free to write a paper about this.)...

• The Scaffold will be housed in the TrueCity office (2nd floor, 500 James St North, Hamilton).
• It will be open Wednesday and Friday mornings (9 AM - 1 PM) to start with, beginning on Oct 10, 2012; more hours may be added later on.
• Its library will be comprised primarily of books in missional, theological, and biblical stiudies, all on extended loan from those who participate in it -- so it will grow as more of us join in (probably from TrueCity churches, to begin with, though I'm a notable exception to that rule right now).
• You can learn more about how to get involved on the Facebook page, www.facebook.com/The.Scaffold.book.room; visit the online library profile and catalog at http://www.librarything.com/profile/The_Scaffold and http://www.librarything.com/catalog/The_Scaffold; and contact me officially at scaffold@truecity.ca.
• Oh, and the name: well, the space itself is probably temporary -- so this is just a simple platform, designed to facilitate building, maintenance, and other activities.  Granted, it's almost interchangeable with scaffolding, the material(s) one uses to build a scaffold; but the metaphor doesn't need to bear that much weight.  As I said, it may only be temporary.  But it's still worth doing.  So come check it out and get involved.  Your brain and your ministry will thank you.

So this is something of an experiment in what I've seen labelled (and have practiced myself) as "intellectual hospitality": space created for the welcoming and honing of reflections and those who share them.  It's something that I and others have prayed over a good deal, in this instance -- desiring to go where God's Spirit leads, without trying to guess too far ahead where the Spirit will lead next.