I wrote this blog on Monday January 2nd 2006…please read with the idea in mind that I was a single 22 year old boy…please read the excerpt that follows.

New years, pretty good time.  I am starting to realize though as I get older the whole idea of New Years is losing its Love.  I think its pretty sad too.  Its just not as exciting as it was when you were a kid.  Its just doesnt seem to be the same anymore, next year I want to try to make it more like it is and it was when you are younger.

In the year 2006 I am gonna…

Try to take a road trip across the US.

Start a band.

Finally pick somewhere to go to college (i’ll take suggestions).

Finally get to Africa.

If not Africa go backpacking in Europe with, you know who you are.

Possibly work one more summer at camp(I’m getting really old for this).

Somehow find a way to live with Daniel Lee for a period of time in hopes to become heavily inspired by who he is so I can write a story and a movie about it.

Try not to fall in love with a female just for this year(who am I kidding).

Try not to be so cynical and sarcastic.

try not to wear white after labor day(This comment already makes me fail to meet the above comment).

Become friends with someone that has no friends.

Visit Texas.

Somehow make a Large sum of money and Donate it to people who need it, but i mean people who actually really need it.

Meet Jim Carrey somehow.

Makeout with Salma Hayek somehow.

Start a dance pop band.

Take a whole lot more pictures.

And finally….Become President.

Its weird though, because This is the New Year and I dont feel any different….

Why do you suppose we make lists of things we need to do in our lives?  I love looking back at this list although only 4 years ago it seems like decades.  I was in a much different situation back then and most of the things on that list I did not get completed.  Now that I am older and married It’s funny how the juvenile things I did when I was younger seem now.  I thought these list were important and defined who I was and who I was going to be.  What it comes down to is…God is going to have you do the things on his list, not ours.  I think it is very important to have goals, and if you feel you need to list them, then definitely do so.  As far as making lists with sometimes outrageous things on them (see above list) I think it is more necessary to ask God, what he wants you to do this year, instead of planning it out yourself.  I have made a ton of lists like this and most times I never meet half of no less all of them.  On that list above I remeber that year I only did 2 things, the first thing was Go to camp one more summer, I did do that again, the next thing was I visited Texas to see my friend at the time, who is now my wife.  I didn’t need a list for those things to happen.  I’m glad they did though.  I don’t think lists are stupid, in some cases I think they are fun, but a lot of times the list can have ideas on them that are a bit hard to reach.  Do you think lists like these are important?  Do you think I was stupid or ignorant for doing such a list like this?  Do you think you could ask God what he wants you to do instead of trying to plan it yourself?

As many know by now, a revised version of our president’s health care reform bill was passed a few days ago. We could debate various perspectives for or against the bill, predicted implications of the bill, consequences for the health care industry and our quality of care moving forward, but analysts on every channel are already spinning all of this in droves. Set aside, for a moment, your political affiliation and your feelings about government’s level of involvement in our lives. Instead, I’d like to view this discussion with a different lens.

First, I will admit that I have experienced two sides of health care. I have been completely without insurance and have absorbed medical costs as a result, and I have also been over-insured and benefited from sharing health care expenses. As a husband and a father, I do believe in the importance of having health care insurance, especially in this age of massively absorbent medical costs. However, is medical insurance a human right? What litmus should we use to define a human right? Is the health care issue in America a social injustice on the level of child sex trafficking or racial discrimination? There is little doubt that these are two issues that must anger God. In a world, however, full of such explicit inhumanities, I wonder what God thinks of America’s attitude and energy expended about our debate over health care rights. Are the lines between rights and entitlements beginning to blur? Have we finally crossed the line as a nation into full-blown opulence or are we finally addressing a real American oppression?

What I would like to know is if you feel Christianity has anything to say about what is and what is not a natural-born right. Does this health care topic intersect with your faith?

Forget the homeless, stranger for a moment. In some ways it’s easy to offer acceptance to that person because we can do it from a distance. What I’m interested in hearing about is how well you accept the people in your daily circle of influence? Maybe a more applicable question is, how well do you know them? The people you work with? The people you sit next to in class? Your neighbors? Your very best friends? The people you serve with at church? Your family? Here’s my answer, you know them only as much as they are willing to let you know them. If we’re honest, we all have areas of our lives that we choose not to share, even with those closest to us. Why? As I ask this question I think of a red-faced and furious Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men erupting with, “You can’t handle the truth!” Are you prepared to hear that your best friend was repeatedly molested by a family member as a child? What would your responsibility as a Christian be to that person, and would it be different if that friend told you instead that they had cheated on their spouse in the past?

Christians talk about acceptance and forgiveness, but don’t these concepts, in our lives, often have boundaries? I wonder if the limits to which we’ll share is relative to that which we’ll accept. I have some friends that are not afraid to peel back layer after layer of themselves, like an onion, and expose to everyone the depths of their souls. I have a certain respect and admiration for that kind of openness but, truthfully, it also scares me because I know that I am not always willing to reciprocate with the same level of openness. Fear of rejection, judgment and/or condemnation often keep us from sharing our hurts and struggles, leaving us bound to the sins, failures, victimizations and insecurities of our past and, at the same time, crippling our present. We are products of our pasts; good, bad and indifferent.

During a recent church service we incorporated what is called a “cardboard testimonial”. Friends wrote on one side of a piece of cardboard something that they’ve struggled with in their past. On the other side of the cardboard they wrote how God used that situation to change them. Nearly 20 people shared pieces of their stories in this way. The purpose of this presentation was to highlight the transformational powers of Christ in our lives. What we discovered was the potential for a deeper healing of the soul as a result of sharing our vulnerabilities with our community. Hurts, tragedies, and sins were offered for all to see, and it was beautiful to watch them received with the love and compassion of Christ by our body.

Can we actually live a life of freedom from the shackles of our past, and how can we help each other succeed? James 5:16 tells us to “…confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” What if we really lived like this text asks us to? My questions, to this point, have revolved around how we accept others, but the bigger question is how willing are you to share yourself with your community? Can you really allow yourself to be seen? Do you believe that God promises deliverance from that which binds our hearts?

Below is a link to the cardboard testimony of another church. I dare you not to be moved as you watch this unfold. Also, as you witness the redemptive stories of others, I challenge you to consider the following:

What about your past is crippling you today? Are you willing to share yourself  so that your community can pray for you, and so God can heal you? We cannot heal what we cannot feel. Let’s use this space as our cardboard testimonial. I’ll go first. My cardboard reads on the front, “Struggle for Control in my life” and to highlight God’s transformation in me, the back of my cardboard reads, “Finally Gave Control back to God!”

What does your’s say?

Martin Luther King Day is one of my favorite holidays.  My family has a long standing tradition of gathering early in the morning, lighting candles, and walking through the neighborhood singing “We Shall Overcome”, and then we make an effort to work as a family to do our little part to eradicate various injustices.

Part of that statement is true.  It is one of my favorite holidays.  You probably wouldn’t know that, however,  unless you asked me about it- because I like most families, just try to enjoy an extra day off.  It is important, though, because it keeps the story of the value of people in front of me.  This day keeps the story alive, of the struggle of people who see themselves as being made in God’s image- and the people who see them as less than that- and will do whatever it takes to repress that vision.

My family had the opportunity to go to the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis last year on our way to Florida, and the experience was powerful for me to say the least.  After an hour or two of reading of the struggle, watching video clips, and sitting in the bus where Rosa Park’s said “I am tired.” and refused to move; I found myself standing next to the place where King lost his life on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel.  I stood looking through a plexiglass window at King’s room to my right and straight ahead was the balcony.  The building across the street from which the shots came was in my line of sight as well.  Something caught my eye when looking down at the balcony deck- there was a square in the concrete which had been cut out and new concrete poured in it.  The square was approximately 18 inches long and wide, to my recollection.   Not sure where I got the information, if it was someone there, or a sign through our self guided tour, but I became aware that the square was the clean up work by the owner of the motel.  This square of concrete was where MLK’s blood was, and it was stained, and not able to be cleaned.  So, the owner, cut the blood stained concrete out, and poured new cement in its place.

This kind of clean up happens every day where there is violent crime, and also where there are tragic accidents.  The clean up helps the rest of us not think about, or even know about, what happened at that spot in the past.  This is helpful for our communities.  In this case, though, it reminded me that with this murder- the life cut short led a struggle affirming God’s image in all men.  His was an imperfect life, full of contradictions, and yet not afraid to speak of justice and the peaceful way of Jesus.  People joining in grabbed hold of their identity as image bearers and had the revelation that jail time, pain, or even death could not stop them from taking that identity on to themselves as individuals.  There was unspeakable freedom in understanding this, and true community as African Americans and any other people who had experienced a generational repression started to own their place in America with diginty.  There was a consistency starting to happen between people’s inner lives and how they hoped to express themselves in the outside world.  Even more importantly for all of us- there was a collective assumption of identity that created a wave of change and courage, and for that matter- conflict.

And, while MLK the man is not by any means solely responsible for Civil Rights progress; he was a life that was a part of creating hope and helping people live with courage.  He helped people believe that they had value.  He challenged people who worked so hard to preserve their own power and deny worth in others.  So while this man was a larger than life character, his blood got cleaned up and the square on the balcony spoke to the enormity of this life, and the value of every man.  I stared at the square and started to cry.  My children got uncomfortable as Dad was all emotional and weird.  I couldn’t stop, as I was broken- so sad that this life of great value created such a story, was cut down so quickly, and the evidence of his murder got removed by a concrete cutter.

As I walked away from the museum, and drove with my family for our vacation to Florida, I was struck with the knowledge of the value of every person.  Every person as being made in God’s image is made to be a creator and contributor, and some take this idea to heart and live it out in ways that make the world a better place.  They live it out in ways that personify the prayer of Jesus when he prayed “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”  I was also stuck with how true power that creates sustainable change comes from the bottom up, from stables outside of Bethlehem, from streets in Selma, where people live every day.  When people choose to believe that they have a unique role to play in this big story- things change for the better.  God help those who fight to deny this identity in people, and God help us when we are asleep to this identity and choose to orient ourselves toward consumption.

The balcony square can remind us that:  every life has value, every life ends on earth, while our lives may intersect with tragedy- we can leave an impact that can go on for generations.  truth lives.

What unique role will you, will I, have in helping the world become a better place?

I hope to continue developing these ideas.

Chris King

This post isn’t going to be controversial, I don’t think.  Although the topic: What is CQ Missional?- has proven to be controversial for some, confusing for others, and a great learning process for me- interestingly enough.

This post is about the words we use that help us describe what we do, and what we’re about. We want to get to the point in the description, and have clarity (something I’m not always great at, I like the “stream of consciousness” stuff).

Here is the answer: CQ Missional helps people discover their role in making the world a better place. Its not rocket science.  We want to help people…help people.  And while these words may sound a bit “vanilla”, they are all on purpose, and each has an important meaning and context.

Those words have risen to the top in the last 5 months- as I have fumbled trying to explain how we do things and what we offer and how that is unique or enough like what the people  want to hear. Some people have chosen to not work with us because the language doesn’t sound like something we hear at my church- and that causes them concern. Thats ok.  I just want our words to be honest, real, and easy to understand for anyone we may encounter- and I’m praying that is how we operate as representatives of CQM as well.

We do believe that Christ is the center of the story. I also know that we will work with people from all walks of life- and I am jazzed to interact with all of God’s children, and ….help them discover their role in making the world a better place.  A better place in a “Lords Prayer” sort of way…  That is our working definition of Missional- and it has much to do with the Lord’s prayer when Jesus prays “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

I’ve found my time explaining what CQ Misisonal is to be very interesting in what thoughts and questions the process has brought up in my own mind.  This is good, and not easy.  I want to explain what we do because it is a unique approach, and there is a vision attached. However- I am discovering that my own need to position us as “unique, creative, out of the box, …” motivates my stream of words. It starts to look like I’m the center of the story at that point.  To contrast- I would rather be part of a work that cares about the people we come across, and simply does the things we do well to help people find their unique role in the big Story.  If we get to help people…. help other people… (making the world a better place); then we’re doing our job.

So- helping people discover their role in making the world a better place… this is what we do. I’ll write more in future posts about the purpose of each of the words and the connectedness to what we’re about as a community.  I will also use this blog to post upcoming book excerpts for us to wrestle with.

I’m looking forward to the dialog.

Please engage our different blog posts which will be produced almost everyday by a variety of friends.  These are different people who provide engaging questions and content all around the “missional” life. You’ll find opinions and questions that will be diverse and expand the “missional” thread- shoot back with your perspective! I want you to help us think.  Maybe we can help you as well.  We want to be a community that helps people, and having our assumptions challenged in this group can be one way that we help each other grow. I am so thankful for our blogging partners, and excited about the content, stories, and most of all- the lives they live. Our agreement with our team goes for 6 months, and we promise not to edit or censor  their content- trust is a big fat word around here.

I also look forward to contributing weekly and connecting with readers as someone who cares, and who is a fellow journeyman. Not Journey, as in “Don’t Stop Believing” with short guy with mullet Steve Perry belting it out (thats excellent as well…) but more like sharing the life journey.    As we walk together with this community, we will have shared experience.  Shared experience plus reflection is big time way that our ears and eyes are opened to mission and purpose.  God is speaking to us all the time.  I look forward to seeing what you and I are discovering.

Here is an interesting story of some “missional” people where words and life meet to be a part of “Kingdom come”- or in everyday language- “making the world a better place.”
http://www.parade.com/news/2010/01/17-why-we-gave-away-our-home.html

Till next week,
Chris King

I began following R.E.M. during my first year of college.  At that time, their steady rise to fame had just begun and I’ve been a fan through the years. That’s why a recent headline caught my eye quoting Michael Stipe regarding a friend of his, respected musician and fellow Georgian, Vic Chesnutt. If you haven’t heard of Vic you aren’t alone, I hadn’t either until December 26, 2009, the day after his death on Christmas Day from an overdose of muscle relaxers. I saw the story headline, but I didn’t have time to read it. 

Several days later, while in the middle of one of my favorite past-times of searching for new and quality independent-label musicians, one website I frequent suggested several artists based on my musical taste and there he was again; Vic Chesnutt. This time I followed the lead, pulled up digital versions of all of his albums and sampled most of them. Within an hour, I owned two of his last albums (is it okay to still call them that even though they are mp3 downloads?), “North Star Deserter” and “At the Cut”, both recorded with the backing support of a hidden gem-of-a-band by the name of Silver Mt. Zion and Fugazi guitarist Guy Picciotto. Considering my ever-obsessive interest in music, I was surprised that I hadn’t at least heard of someone with over a dozen albums throughout a 20+ year career.

Since downloading these two albums, I have hardly stopped listening to them and I have learned that Vic Chesnutt was an amazing wordsmith. His lyrics, often flowing like poetry, were meticulously crafted to tell some deeply personal stories, mostly soaked in tragedy and sorrow. Such was his life. You should know that Vic, in the early 80’s at age 18, was injured in a car accident while driving drunk. He lost most of the movement in his legs, a lot of the mobility in his arms and his hands were greatly compromised. So while his body was confined to a wheel chair, Vic relearned to play the guitar with simple chords and only a few fingers, and with a very limited musical structure to work with and a uniquely gritty voice, Vic spent the following 26 years rising out of his chair in the ether of his storytelling and musical genius.

His sound is rooted in folk with streams of other influences such as jazz, soul, and country flowing through it. His voice, sometimes rugged and graveled in a heavy Dylan/Springsteen kind-of- way while other times floating weightless in a beautiful falsetto, is usually accompanied only by the minimalist sounds of his lonely guitar. In his music are, naturally, stories of loss, pain, sadness and vacancy; an imprisoned perspective that few can entirely relate to. Yet, if we’re honest, his music is at the same time deeply accessible on multiple levels. The place from which his art stems is hauntingly and intensely real.

However, pointing you to the work of Vic Chesnutt is not the point of this writing, although some will undoubtedly (and wisely) seek his work. No, there is more to his story that I find fascinating. You see, he was raised in a Christian home and yet, from the age of 13, Vic was an admitted atheist. He writes about this dichotomy some in his music. One would have hoped that from his tragic accident, he would have reformed from his formidable lifestyle and embraced a new appreciation for life. That was not the case for Vic. His personal choices in life would likely be defined as unfortunate by many, battling alcohol and drug abuse for most, if not all, his adult life. There are stories written about him describing his drunken belligerence in the public music scene during the earlier part of his career. He was rather anti-establishment and as a result of near medical bankruptcy at the end of his life, he was outspokenlycritical of America’s health care system. He writes of watching his mother die a painful death from cancer, begging mercy from Jesus and Vic had a long-time preoccupation with death, attempting suicide 3-4 times through the years before his successfully-fatal overdose last month.  

You may not have liked the person. You may disagree with his viewpoints. You might not like his music. However, Vic Chesnutt was, if nothing else, brutally honest about life as he saw it and he openly acknowledged the complexities he saw in life. In the midst of the conflict and controversy surrounding Vic’s work, here’s what I take away from listening to his music. He makes me think. He makes me think about my position on social justice issues. He makes me think about my own spirituality and theology. He makes me think about my own mortality. He makes me think about the pain in my life and the pain in the lives of others. He makes me think about compassion and also about anger. He makes me think about being broken and the hope of being fixed. He makes me solidify where I stand in regards to my personal beliefs. All this from a crippled and indulgent atheist. So here are my questions. What would you do as a Christian about Vic Chesnutt? Would you protest his music? Would you even listen to it? Would you hear the stories and appreciate the realism or would you dismiss him as a bad influence? Would you embrace him as a human being or would you turn back into your comfortable circle? What is our role as Christians in God’s Kingdom? Are you intimidated by atheists? We know that Jesus hung out with outcasts, but do we really buy that we should too? What if we are the outcasts? Who do you hang out with? Who are you influenced by, and who do you influence?  

One of the last songs Vic wrote was called, “Flirted With You All of My Life”. He called it his break-up song with death. In it he reminisces about his preoccupation with death saying that he’s flirted with her all his life before coming to the realization and celebrating, ”Oh Death / Oh Death / Oh Death / Really, I’m not ready / Oh Death / Oh Death / Oh Death / Clearly, I’m not ready.” This song was released 3 months prior to his death by apparent suicide. 

Vic Chesnutt makes me think. What makes you think?