After nearly 20 years in Ottawa we are moving to Winnipeg.  With great excitement and gratitude to the Lord I have accepted the position of Director of Worship Ministries at Grant Memorial Baptist Church in Winnipeg, Manitoba. I’ll be leading a team of highly dedicated, talented and experienced staff and volunteers. I look  forward to and embrace this challenge and I know we’ll have a lot of fun together as a team.

Pearl and I both sense that this is the right place for us and for our family. As we reflect on the past year, we really sense that God has led us to this place.  Our family will be making the move to Winnipeg this August.

Thank you to all of my friends in Ottawa.  Your love, encouragement and support, especially during this time of transition, have meant everything to me.  Thank you to my boys, Pierce, Gideon and Preston – who have been praying for a new job for me and a church for us to call home.  I would especially like to thank Pearl who has been my biggest encouragement through the years.  She has supported me through a transition from my engineering career into ministry, and now a transition from our home in Ottawa, to a new adventure in Winnipeg.

Thank you in advance for continuing to pray for me and my family as we begin a new chapter in our lives.

Geoff…

Frank Viola’s new book “Jesus Manifesto” is out. I’ve read the first chapter online and I can’t wait to get my copy and read the rest. It is another hard-hitting volume from Viola – no punches pulled.   This is not chicken soup for your soul! I’ll be posting a full review in a little while once I’ve read the entire thing. In the meantime you can order the book at a discount on June 1 by clicking here.  I highly recommend it.  For more info you can go to the Jesus Manifesto web site.

Happy reading!

Liminal spaces are the spaces in between.  They are the places where there are no routines or expectations, where border-less ambiguities replace the security that we’re so accustomed to.  Liminality is not comfortable.  It can induce a fear that gnaws away at the spirit.  I find myself in a liminal space as I wait for God to begin writing the next chapter in my ministry and my life.  Liminality is not fun.

The Desert Fathers of the middle ages believed that liminality was an indispensable component of spiritual formation.  They chose to live in the Egyptian desert (a very liminal place) in order to preserve a state of perpetual liminality.  I say nuts to that!  I crave my comforts and my luxuries.  I’d be more suited to joining an order of Dessert Fathers.  I would sit around with the rest of the Dessert Fathers ordering hot fudge sundaes, telling the waiter to add nuts to that.

Yet I think the Desert Fathers were on to something.  God often calls his children into the liminal spaces.  He called Abraham out of Ur to take a journey into the unknown.  The children of Israel wandered in a desert for 40 years before they entered the promised land.  And Jesus fasted for forty days in the desert at the beginning of his public ministry.  So what is it about experiencing liminality?  I think that when we are in a liminal state we don’t have our regular routines and securities – a steady job,  sound finances, physical health, etc.   We come to the point when our only security is God.  We come to the point where we really need God’s promises to be true, because there’s nothing else for us to fall back on.  But do we ever really have other things to fall back on?  All those other things are illusions.  Liminality dispells illusions.  Perhaps it is only in the liminal spaces that we see how dependent we really are upon God.  Liminality breeds clarity.  It is a gift.  It teaches us that God is our sole source of security.  I’m still learning.

CNN posted a survey listing the top 15 Stressful Jobs that Pay Badly.  Number 5 on the list was none other than “Music Ministry Director”.  I confess that I laughed out loud when I saw that!  I certainly can relate to the high stress that can be involved in the position and yet that is only one side of the story.  On most Sunday mornings, once the service had begun I would be pinching myself to see if it was real!  There was nothing I’d rather be doing!  When you get to work in a healthy team and you are encouraging your friends to worship God with all of their passion and creativity there really is nothing like it.

I have a few reactions to the article.  First off, Dan Fenn, the music director who is quoted in the article… I wonder how his parishioners feel about him appearing on CNN’s website slagging his job?  Might they be tempted to liberate him so that he can  pursue a better gig?

Secondly, the example of stress that Dan cites – being asked to play “Beer Barrel Polka” at a funeral, doesn’t seem all that stressful to me.  Whenever stress had me to teetering on the brink of the abyss it wasn’t over silly things like that.

Well, these things just didn’t add up to me, so through magic of the internet I tracked down Dan and asked him about CNN’s piece.  He told me he was quite disappointed when with it.  When he was interviewed the reporter told him it was for a piece about “surprisingly stressful jobs” – nothing about pay.  He also said that none of the things that he loves about his job made it into the article.  And the story about “Beer Barrel Polka” was just a funny story that he told the reporter, rather than an example of the high stress situations he might find himself in. Dan also lamented that the article left out any sense of the calling that motivates him in his ministry.   My experience as a worship pastor has had its share of stress, but I felt called to it, and still do.  And the rewards of living out your calling far outweigh the challenges that we face!

And a final note:  Dan says that he did play “Beer Barrel Polka” at the funeral but disguised the melody in an abstract  French-tocatta organ improvisation.   Yeah.. that’s what I would’ve done too!

The good people over at praisecharts.com have given guitarists an early Christmas gift. They’ve posted a free, downloadable book of Christmas carols arranged for acoustic guitar.  I haven’t yet looked them over, but I’m sure they’ll be up to the usual praisecharts standard of quality.   One warning, though… the arrangements are in guitar friendly keys with simplified chords, so don’t expect to be able to play along with a pianist who’s using a hymnal.  But if you’re leading carols with just guitar you’ll be well served by these charts!

Christmas is a time when everything is heightened.  All things are universally amped up.  If everything is coming up roses for you, then Christmas makes things come up poinsettias.  However, if you’re blue, Christmas can  make you very blue.  If you have family problems, they are heightened at Christmas.  If you’re struggling with finances, you’ll struggle even more at Christmas.  If you’re lonely – chances are you’ll feel lonelier during the holidays.  If you’ve recently lost a loved one, you’ll be facing the first Christmas without them.  It is easy for those in mourning to feel forgotten by their church during the month of December.

I’m reminded of the line from Away in a Manger – “The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes, but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes”.  However,  the Gospel accounts don’t say anything about whether the baby Jesus cried.  Yet we’ve bought into the idea that crying, mourning or any expression of sorrow is incongruous with Christmas.  However, if we strip off the fairy-tale varnish from the Christmas story we find that there is much sorrow – Israel oppressed by the Romans, a scandalous pregnancy, an arduous journey to Bethlehem.  And what do we encounter after the blessed event itself?  The flight to Egypt to  escape the slaughter of innocents (Matt 2:13-18).  Merry Christmas indeed.

The good news is that the Christmas story is about the arrival of God’s light that penetrates the deepest darkness.  As worship leaders we must not ignore the darkness, but rather acknowledge it, and proclaim that the Light has come.  I believe that the third verse of It Came Upon a Midnight Clear perfectly expresses this concept:

O ye beneath life’s crushing load,

Whose forms are bending low,

Who toil along the climbing way

With painful steps and slow;

Look now, for glad and golden hours

Come swiftly on the wing;

Oh rest beside the weary road

And hear the angels sing.

In most of the Christmas pageants that I’ve been associated with the drama on stage couldn’t hold a candle to the drama behind the scenes.  I remember dress rehearsals with stress levels were more incandescent than a million strings of Christmas lights.   If you wanted to show someone the fruit of the Spirit (Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control) would you invite them to your Christmas Pageant rehearsals?

These are some of the pitfalls that I think we need to avoid during our Christmas productions:

• Failing to view the “pageant” primarily as an act of worship.  When the pageant becomes more about us than it does about celebrating Christ, we are driven by pride – which means we’ve completely missed the point.
• Outdoing Last Year! – We feel an intense pressure to out-do last year!  But it is unsustainable!  Often we reach a production level that pushes our people to the brink of burn-out (or beyond).  It is unsustainable to continually ratchet up our productions without sacrificing some volunteers on the altar of Bigger and Better
• “Community Theatre” syndrome – If we forget that we’re doing ministry then our Christmas Pageants are reduced to community theatre – and we are susceptible to all of community theatre’s foibles and petty vanities.  As the church we are called to so much more than just entertainment!

The good news is that it is possible to produce fitting celebrations of Christmas that honour God in their content and in the way they are produced.  I believe that if we approach our Christmas celebrations primarily as acts of worship,  in both spirit and in truth, then we’ll succeed celebrating Christ’s advent while enjoying His presence.

In the churches where I’ve  served and attended it seems that we’ve lost our sense of longing for Christ’s advent.  I really appreciate the rhythm of the liturgical calendar that sets aside four weeks of advent.  It may come as a surprise to those of us who are “low church” that liturgical churches do not sing Christmas carols until Christmas eve .   Advent is supposed to be a time of reflection on our need for Christ and our desperate need for Him to come to us.  It is also a time to anticipate second advent.  I know that I need to spend time longing for Christ’s arrival – to be born anew in my own heart, and for His eventual return in which he sets the world aright.  This longing for Christ is an essential antidote to my own tendency toward smug self-sufficiency, and all of the folly that flows such an erroneous point of view.

I find that my longing is short circuited by jumping right to celebrations of Christ’s birth, and I am poorer because of it.  I’m not advocating that all of our churches return to a strict observation of the church calendar.  There are many good reasons to spend all of December celebrating Christ’s birth, not the least of which is the opportunity it provides for churches to reach out to their communities through concerts, dramatic presentations and other artistic celebrations.  I am advocating that each one of us take time this advent season to reflect upon our profound need for Christ to come and be born in our own hearts, and to express our longing for His presence in our lives and in our world.

I’m beginning a series of posts today in which I’ll confess to some of my hang-ups with the Christmas season.  I’ll be sharing a number of observations as an erstwhile worship pastor.

My first confession is that I don’t like Christmas Carols.  OK.. that may sound harsh, so let me explain .  For at least two months every year we are inundated with Christmas carols – in the mall, on the radio, TV, everywhere we go we hear the same paltry repertoire of Christmas songs repeated over and over again.  Only the most robust melodies could resist becoming threadbare after so much overuse. Unfortunately most Christmas Carols don’t fare very well.

However, my superficial preferences on the aesthetics of Christmas carol music aren’t all that important.  The biggest problem with Christmas carols is that they come with baggage.  When many of us sing a Christmas carol our minds instantly conjure  memories of a television commercial or the Charlie Brown Christmas Special, rather than dwelling upon the meaning of what we’re singing.  It is a real effort to push beyond the nostalgic associations we have with most carols and to truly worship through them.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that we ban Christmas carols.  They are a very meaningful part of our celebration of Christ’s first coming.  The challenge for us as worshipers is to avoid using them as an exercise in nostalgia, but instead to make every effort to view them with fresh eyes and fresh ears.  As worship planners and worship leaders we must make every effort to keep them fresh and put them into settings that draw our attention to Christ.

This past August 29 (my 17th wedding anniversary) my wife and flew to New York for the weekend. The apex of our celebration was the chance to see Paul Motian, Bill Frisell and Joe Lovano at the Village Vanguard. For those who don’t know, the Village Vanguard is sort of the like the Vatican of jazz clubs. It is arguably the most prestigious jazz club in the world and only the upper echelon of jazz musicians play there. We arrived at about 8:15 for the line is already snaking down the street blocking the entrance to the nail salon next door to the club. A young woman walks up to the line and asks if it is for the nail salon and is relieved to find out it isn’t. If she’d just looked at the mostly gray haired men in the line she probably would’ve concluded on her own that this crowd wasn’t lining up for pedicures.

The doors opened and we began our descent down the steep staircase to the club. Much hasn’t changed in the in the vanguard’s decades of operation, but they have embraced some innovations. I printed my ticket at home after purchasing it the Village Vanguard website. The tickets are checked and we are seated. We’re at a table in the second row to the left the stage. Being a guitarist I wanted to have a good view of Frisell. I saw that he was set up to the right side of the stage but I knew from having seen him several times before that he’d spend most of the night facing left towards Motian, the drummer. I’d have a good view of him on the left. Of the 100 odd people who can cram into the small basement club, we had some of the best seats in the house.

When we arrived the band was in the corner near the stage talking. Motian was writing down what appeared to be the set list – the evening liturgy for this sacred event. Eventually they retreated to a back room, we placed our drink orders with the waitress and waited for our trio of high priests to return to the stage. While we waited I look around at the people around us and discovered that not all of us were true believers. The woman in front of us nodded perfunctorily as her date explained to her why the evening’s music would be so great. A couple beside us, who looked to be in their sixties, stared at the dark stage in apparent boredom. A loud table of four behind us were loudly talking about “jazz music”. I heard someone mention Manhattan Transfer and ten seconds later the four of them are humming “Birdland.” They were making short work of their drinks and were getting louder. I began to worry that they wouldn’t quiet down when the band took the stage.

Eventually a man appeared on stage for a call to worship. The congregation was instructed to turn off their cell phones and remain quiet during the show. I prayed that the Manhattan Transfer fans had paid attention. He left the stage and in a few minutes the lights along the right side of the club were abruptly shut off leaving half the club in total darkness. A few seconds later the rest of the house lights were dimmed and the stage lights were abruptly clicked on, revealing the mess of Frisell’s gear and a web of cables. Some bags and a coat were piled on top of the piano which was pushed to the back of the stage. There’s no pretence or playing to appearances here. No fancy computer programmed lighting system. A couple of wall switches on the back do just fine. Guitar case? Coat? Just put them on the Piano.

A hush overtook those of us crowded into the pews. Applause began as the trio re-emerged from the back of the club. They each nodded politely to acknowledge the applause. Motian looked to count off the first number but Frisell wasn’t ready, fiddling with a pedal and quickly tuning up. As soon as he’s finished Motian counted it off and they launched into Monk’s tune Misterioso. They’ve recorded the song and undoubtedly have played it hundreds of times. Lovano was right up to the edge of the stage, the bell of his horn a few feet from us. He is a powerful presence, almost dancing as he plays. He teeters on the edge of the stage as he solos. The elderly woman beside, however, was fast asleep. Her husband was awake but hardly more engaged. The woman in front of us had her fingers in her ears as Motian pounded on his ride cymbal. No word from the Manhattan Transfer fan club behind us. However, I was determined not to let the apathy of the faithless diminish my experience.

The band was in top form on Mysterioso, which was the only tune I recognized during the whole set. The next song was a standard, perhaps “My Heart Belongs to Daddy” but I’m not certain. Frisell and Lovano read charts for the next couple of tunes and the effortlessness of the opening part of the set was gone. Frisell was working hard, especially during his solos on these songs. If I had my eyes closed I’m sure I wouldn’t have noticed, but I could read it on his face.

On the whole the trio sounds phenomenal. Lovano, the extrovert among the group is forceful, exerting his personality upon us as he plays. Frisell and Motian are much more introverted and introspective. Rather than reaching out to us, they merely open a window and allow us to peer in. Near the end of the set Frisell is really warming up, playing as only he can. One of his favourite licks, an ascending stagger step riff (similar to the melody of Mysterioso) makes several appearances through the night. He’s also creating ethereal soundscapes with his multiple layers of delay. A couple of songs ended with haunting loops of his guitar. Most of the crowd is enraptured. The woman beside us continued to slumber undisturbed, though I suppose she might have been praying.

The band finished the set and Motian took a microphone to pronounce the benediction. He introduced his bandmates, himself, and thanked us for coming. The three of them waved and nodded, acknowledging the applause and then left the stage. The houselights came up and our lady of perpetual slumber awoke and gathered her purse, sweater and husband to go. The Manhattan Transfer fan club enjoyed the music as much as their wine, and the woman in front of us seems to have avoided permanent hearing damage. My wife and I settle with our waitress and make our way up the stairs on to the street. We began our afternoon with the matinee showing of the broadway musical “Wicked”, had pizza at Johns in Times Square and then made our way out to the Vanguard. As we walk hand in hand to the 23rd street subway station we agree that there could be no better way to celebrate 17 years together.