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This weekend Lindsay, Asher and I will be heading to thebridge in Iowa, where I’ve been given the opportunity to preach. We’re pumped about this. Making the weekend even more exciting is the fact that this is the preaching equivalent to a substitute teaching assignment or a blind date. Here’s how pastor Marty Schmidt explains it:

Back in March we brought Lon Wong in as a guest teacher at thebridge. Prior to Lon’s visit I had only known him through his blog. I was energized by how his mind worked and thought he would be a great catalyst for us at thebridge. We were not disappointed. Lon flew in dropped an awesome message on us and went back to that small city in Canada known as Toronto (which by the way will be hosting an NFL game this year!).

I wasn’t all that sure we would do something like this again. It felt like it was one of those God ordained moments that was a one and done. But over the past few months the promptings reemerged and I was again led to toss an invitation to teach at thebridge to someone I had never met before. After some prayer on both sides, AJ has agreed to drive up from his small city of Kansas City (which by the way will be hosting 8 NFL games this year - no playoffs for you Chiefs fans) to visit us in Ottumwa and guest teach next week. We have been praying for him and his family the past few weeks and are super stoked about what he has for us.

I haven’t apprised Marty of the fact that I’m a militant KU hoops fan, a fact I plan to unveil about halfway through the message. More seriously, we really appreciate the generosity and faith behind this invitation. If you think of it, pray for me. I’ll let you know how my shtick goes over.

We’re hoping to hit up one or both of these…

Last week I got to spend some time with a group of church planters, who provided opportunities to talk shop, learn about vision casting and play a few holes of disc golf. Let me preface this by saying that I haven’t reached championship caliber in disc golf yet. OK, I suck. But I did come up with a few lessons that pertain to church planting. Ready?

1. Effectiveness–not sexiness–is the objective.

“Nice disc purse, dude.”

It was no accident that the best player on the course, Jason Allen, carried his arsenal of diamond-etched, graphite coated, pro-model discs in a bag that looked like a large canvas purse. He even slung it over his shoulder between holes. And he didn’t blink when we gave him a hard time about it, because Jason knew that his disc purse was helping him reach his objective: kicking our butts. In a lot of circles, church planting is the hot item. I always thought of it as the extreme sport of Christianity–and everyone knows that the main allure of extreme sports is the chance to look good while rakishly risking your life. But winners realize that style falls by the wayside when you tackle something as difficult as church planting…or disc golf.

2. Humility is your ticket onto the course.

“I just missed a six foot putt. There goes the only strength of my game.”

Anyone can talk a good game. But a newbie can’t hide on the course. The only way to survive in a pastime with a learning curve as steep as disc golf or church planting is to admit what you know: practically nothing. And then set out to learn as fast and as well as you can.

3. Going long is half the game.

“I think that one disappeared over the curve of the earth.”

My best throws rounded out at around 60 feet. Jason’s best throws measured in at about 300. This made Jason a long distance thrower, and me a sprinter. I always had to use four or five tosses just to get near the hole, while he was usually putting within one or two. In a similar way, stats reveal that a lot of church planters burn out when they should just be settling into their marathon rhythm. Short-term precision is good. But going the distance is better. If you have endurance, you’ll have time to correct your mistakes.

4. Velocity overcomes bad marksmanship.

“You just shaved a branch off that tree.”

While us second-tier dudes routinely watched our discs get hung up on spiderwebs and blades of grass, we watched in disgust as Jason’s throws ripped right through low hanging branches like a circular saw blade. It wasn’t that our throws were worse (every once in awhile). It was just that they didn’t have the mustard to sail through a little resistance. Every guy who wants to plant a church knows he won’t get everything right the first time. The deciding factor is the spiritual velocity behind the vision. If the church planter is hearing from Jesus, getting his vision fed by God, then he’ll be able to razor right through some of those obstacles.

5. Seeing the course is non-negotiable.

“Now we’re throwing in that direction, maybe, I think.”

We spent a lot of time walking around the grassy course, sweating profusely, to figure out in what direction we should heave our discs next. Personally, I never really figured out the layout of the course, or how to read the arcane directional signs–which no doubt contributed to my mediocrity. When the next hole wasn’t directly in my line of vision, I usually opted for the right-angle approach: Throw straight ahead until I could see the flag, then throw straight ahead again. Grasping the layout of the course, the big picture, lets a golfer or planter play with strategy. That’s the advantage of wise, nuanced vision. Alternatively, you can just flail away and hope you’re going in the right direction.

I was sweating it out in an all-day preaching lab today–and let me just pause right there and say that, YES, this would probably be the most unusual lab you could ever hope to encounter. I’ll even admit to some surreal moments as I worked to deliver a full-length, “Spirit-filled” sermon that measured up to a very rigorous grading rubric… One down, three to go. I’ve preached about a dozen times in my life, with pretty much no training, so I can definitely use the practice.

Main story of this post, though: At the last minute I switched out my lame introductory illustration about a seminary president and, after Lindsay told me to “be yourself,” inserted this bit about Bill Self, which I think you’ll find fitting. Intro:

If you’re like me, you may struggle with reducing abstract truths to immediate, gritty realizations. The truth might have to hit you over the head before you “get” it.

For example, if you live around here, you probably know who Bill Self is—the coach of the Kansas Jayhawks and this year’s NCAA CHAMPIONS. And therefore you know that Bill Self must have a ton of authority and influence. He has to, right?

But what does that authority look like in action? What is Bill Self’s job description? What does an NCAA Div. 1 basketball coach do every day?

Imagine that you’re playing pickup hoops at the gym one day when you hear a yell from the sidelines. You look up and Bill Self is running toward you.

He says, “Man, I’ve been watching you play, and you have the best jump shot I’ve ever seen—also, your game is textbook. I want to you come work as an assistant coach at KU, effective immediately. My guys need to learn from you. Will you please, please come?”

As you stare at Bill Self with a huge grin on your face, his authority and influence suddenly has takes on greater reality. Now you know part of what he does: recruits assistant coaches! Suddenly Bill Self’s job as coach really matters.

That went over pretty well, except with a few bitter MU fans. So later, after I was done, I was talking with my friend and classmate, Adam. It went something like this:

Adam [with a straight face]: “So that was a cool story with Bill Self, dude. And you’re probably the guy in the story, right?”
Me [playing along]: “That’s right. I just don’t come out and say it because it would seem kind of self-exalting.”
A: “Right, I thought it was a true story. But I bet you still find a way to work it in to every message you preach.”
Me: “Absolutely I do. It was hard to turn him down, you know…but I just felt like, after going through seminary, it wouldn’t be the right thing…”
Adam: “Yeah, I see. You decided to serve God, not the Jayhawks.”
Me: “Pretty much.”
A: “So where were you playing ball when this happened?”
Me: ____
Me: “Uh, when Bill Self showed up? Uh…Um…let me think. It would have been in Lawrence…uh, in the Robinson Gym, you know, close to Allen Field House?”
A: “That’s awesome, man.”
Me: ____
Me: “I’m just kidding. You know that, right?”
A: “About where you were playing ball?…Or about the whole thing?”
Me: “The whole thing, dude.”

At that moment, Adam got kind of quiet, and I suspect he was a little embarrassed, which is frequently what happens when someone is punching you in the shoulder and trying to laugh out loud very quietly so as not to further disrupt a preaching lab. This just might have been the highlight of the whole day.

Seriouser post tomorrow…

Sometimes we can make lists of profound truths as if the Lists, not the Truths, have gained the upper hand. “Five Shocking Facts About Tap Water.” “Five Amazing Loopholes in the IRS.” “Five Profound Truths About God.”

These truths are profound, it’s true. But the medium doesn’t fit. Like we all know, the medium always has an effect on the absorption of the message, and maybe this is never more true than when the message centers on reality of the highest order.

If these “truths” are really profound, why do we have to encounter them in a grocery list format? And why the awkward labels, as if we’re afraid our audience might overlook the fact that these truths are deeply transformative if we don’t overtly spell it out?

Wouldn’t it be better to call gospel truths “little known facts” and let them speak for themselves? Otherwise, we run the risk of resorting to quick labels but then failing to substantiate our claims. I often think that we resort to mere labeling because our communication gifts and creative abilities just aren’t up to the task of describing infinite glory. They never are.

But instead of failing to try, maybe we should put all our puny energies into illustrating and explaining in order to hold up one little mirror to divine reality–rather than merely saying, “This is amazing,” and leaving it at that.

I guess this is a case of show, don’t tell. Many of us know that Jesus is profound and all-satisfying and a genius to boot, but few of us have seen it with life-changing clarity and none of us see it all the time. So people who talk about God shouldn’t just toss around superlative adjectives. Sometimes, an adjective is just the slave of a lazy imagination.

We don’t need to be told again that God is a remarkable being and worthy of our worship. We need to taste and see for ourselves. Hearts and imaginations need to be engaged, not just list-making and test-taking skills.