*image by Lisa Kew

In Communication Ethics, our final paper required us to evaluate a communication act within the church – I chose the mentoring relationship. I’m think this is the most time and energy I’ve ever put into a writing project.

As I spent countless hours researching and writing it, I would love for you to read the paper and tell me your thoughts (I’ve included the PDF). However, I would also like to offer some of these thoughts in shorter form.

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I think entering into communication with another is something like stepping out on a tight rope, a high wire.

In our communication, we offer ourselves in some way. And when you offer yourself, there is the potential to miss and be missed.(I hesitate to say “miscommunication” because I don’t really know what it means).

When I have a conversation with my best friend, I am can easily offer myself wholly, or at least mostly. I might make a fool of myself, but the stakes aren’t very high. You might say the wire isn’t very high off of the ground. If things go south, I can step off and tight rope and go on my way, not much the worse for wear.

But what about when there’s farther to fall? What about when I’m asked to speak in front of the whole class, or the whole church, or the whole city? The rope seems to have gotten higher – there is suddenly much farther to fall. And herein, I believe, lies the choice. Do I walk on out, or do I compromise the routine for my own safety? Do I use the balance bar to help me walk, or lower it to the ground for a walking stick to prop me up?

It seems to me the best communicators (speakers, mentors, pastors…) are those willing to keep walking out on the wire without looking down. They are faithful regardless of how high the tightrope gets and how far there is to fall. And fall they will. No one nails it every time. Why else would pop stars lip-sync?

Part of being a great communicator is to stop caring about what the audience thinks. You must love the audience while totally disregarding their opinion. If a speaker’s primary concern is a positive response from the listener, it is certain he will change his message to get the response he wants. He’ll say what he knows will get the amens, the applause, the adulation. And he has not loved his audience, he has loved what they can give him at the expense of the truth.

I have seen people who did not come to be patted on the back, applauded, or congratulated. They came to serve and to love, unwilling to distort their words to gain favor. It is a difficult thing to accept, that the worth of our work is not dependent on the yield. That is not the capitalist model. We are taught, from the time we are old enough to grasp a dollar bill, that if what we’re doing is producing good results, then it must be worthwhile. And it isn’t so.

Jesus told parables that confused both the crowds and the disciples (not by accident). “On hearing [the teaching], many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?’ . . . From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” (John 6) Jesus allowed people a choice, he did not manipulate or coerce them. He could have made a lot more converts by telling the stories more clearly, or just giving clear advice. But the point was to communicate the words given to him, to obey his father, not to get applause or trophies.

In the context of mentoring, or really leading in general, I think those who are mentoring or teaching must be willing to really make themselves vulnerable if they are to love those whom they are serving. It is not enough that they are older, or more popular, or have more experience. To be in relationship with people is to encounter them with your whole being, not a part of yourself. It is to realize that none of us are yet fully formed, completed.

It takes humility and courage to encounter each other truly, with our whole selves, to walk on the wire – but it’s what we need from each other.

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The full paper can be read here: Manifesting the City of God in Mentoring Relationships

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The crucible ended on Wednesday, or maybe on Thursday when the professors had to have our grades finalized. And finals week was mercifully over.Over the course of finals, I kept thinking about a billboard I drive past sometimes. It says something like, “the task ahead of you is never greater than the strength within you.” And I’ve never been sure what to make of it. I tend to think it’s all wrong.

I’ve never been to boot camp, but I don’t think that’s the thought process going on. And I’ve never done a triathlon, but I don’t think the billboard works there either. And I have never played in the fourth quarter of an NBA finals game . . .

In all of these contexts, one must rise to the occasion. And if you come out alive, victorious, you leave with more than you started with – you have encountered something, overcome, and become more. You are pushed to the very edge of your ability, and then a little bit farther. Reached your limit, and then surpassed it. The strength within you may not be sufficient, but in the crucible, you might be stretched into more than you were. In the struggle, we can become.

I believe that’s the point of finals week, and really all of those other things too. If it wasn’t, why would we cram all those exams into two days? If it was just about getting information, we could just read some books over winter break. Perhaps we are given things which we are indeed not enough to face. And here, despite the promises of the billboard, we can grow. Perhaps this is the space for the Spirit to make us into that which we would become.

How does the internet change the way you think and process things?

In the following six paragraph paper, I argue that as the context of our personal life changes, our behavior and goals will change as well. I also reflect on the why Instagram and posting on this blog are not altogether healthy.

*I send my posts via email. If you would like to join that list, please let me know.

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The Internet Reshapes Context and Mindset

            We contextualize our lives more broadly than ever before. We have always seen ourselves as part of a communal mesh. In the past, this community consisted of those living in close proximity. The people with whom we had the most interaction were those living closest to us. In the twenty-first century, a large portion of our interaction is with those geographically far removed from us, perhaps people we have never met face to face. As internet users, the context in which we view our lives has broadened significantly. Our horizontal story line still only spans about a century, but its breadth has widened exponentially. Our potential for inhabited contextual space dwarfs that of our ancestors.

According to digitalinformationworld.com, internet users spend about two and a half hours per day on social media. If we are deeply immersed in social media, it follows that we will view ourselves within that landscape, as a character in that context. Abraham Maslow quipped, “It is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail.” And if you hold an Instagram account, the whole world is a picture to be taken, edited, and captioned. The real power of social media is perhaps not the consumption of our time but the alteration of our mindset. It hones our focus on image and aesthetic, and it rewards us for achieving its goals. Rather, we reward each other with nods of approval, likes and upvotes.

I have found the internet affects the manner in which I write. Since I was about fourteen, I’ve written for pleasure. Yet I’ve noticed, especially lately, that I don’t write as freely as I used to. I compose with the awareness that if I like what I’ve written, I might save it to post on my blog. I find that the potential for an audience actually changes the way I write as well as the things I write about. Regarding the advent of the printing press, Elizabeth Eisenstein writes, “The increased recourse to silent publication undoubtedly altered the character of some spoken words. Exchanges between members of parliament, for example, were probably affected by the parliamentary debates.” The knowledge that our words have permanence, that they will not disappear after an echo, changes the way we speak and how we think about speech altogether.

While the internet broadens the scope of our acquaintances, it makes us less likely to speak with family and neighbors. Yesterday, the NCAA announced their decision to approve the compensation of college athletes for their name, image, and likeness. When I got this news, I wrote a post asking my social media community what they thought about it, as well as stating my own dismay concerning the decision. If not for the internet, I might have gone down to the living room and asked my dad what he thought about it – or called a friend to have a conversation with him about it. The internet increases the number of prospective contributors to our conversations but also moves the space of conversation to a place we cannot physically enter.

“Honor the world by observing it truly and writing about it with humility” writes Walter Wangerin (Beate not the Poore Desk). When we roam about, phone in hand, waiting for something to capture and caption, post and be complimented for, we are not observing the world truly. And when we sit down to compose with the hope of getting quantifiable affirmation, clicks and web traffic, we are not writing with humility. The internet puts within our grasp the power of Solomon who took for himself a thousand concubines. How many could he love faithfully?

The internet has made artists and writers and speakers and preachers of us all. But to whom has it made us neighborly? It tempts us to process our experiences through the eyes of another. It rewards us for caricaturing ourselves for approval. Neil Postman describes the Athenian idea of leisure saying, “a civilized person would naturally spend his time thinking and learning” (The Disappearance of Childhood). In American culture it seems the ones considered most civilized are those with the largest inhabited space. The internet has moved us from desiring power inside our own minds to presence in the minds of others.

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I’ve written 85 WordPress blog posts over the course of about three years. And I’m finally starting to understand the point of it.

In class, we’ve been discussing different approaches to communication as laid out by a guy named John Peters, a longtime professor at the University of Iowa. He describes communication as happening from one of two frameworks: dialogue or dissemination.

Dialogue is what Socrates did. It’s very back and forth, but it demands a return. If I speak, I want to make sure that you get it. I want to make sure there’s a return for my investment in the conversation. Ideally, at the end, you’ll believe the same way that I believe. It’s like the parable of the workers in the vineyard who wanted everyone to be payed only for the amount they’d done. Successful communication happens when you respond favorably to what I tell you.

Dissemination is what Jesus did (especially when teaching the crowds). It’s not back and forth, and it doesn’t demand anything from the audience. When I speak, I am speaking as truthfully as I know how, but it’s not important that you get it. I am not trying to manipulate you into believing the same way I do. I don’t depend on your approval or your applause. I care deeply about you as a person, but not so much about what you think of my speech. I speak not because I have an answer to give you, but because I seek an answer. Successful communication happens when I speak in pursuit of the truth.

When I stared writing on WordPress, I did so mainly as a place to put pictures. Images are safe, people don’t look down at you for pictures (as much). And then I started moving toward more word based posts. And words are not as safe. Words are charged with opinions, beliefs, eloquence (or not so much), and style. It was intimidating. I was always asking myself, “Why are you writing? You don’t really have much to say..”

Lately, my perspective has shifted concerning why I write. And for that matter why I host a podcast or just speak to people in general. It is NOT first and foremost because I have something to say, not because I have knowledge that you need to have, not because you need to believe like I do. I write to articulate my own journey toward the truth. I write as an act of seeking, speak as an act of searching. My communication is my path towards truth.

And I think this is why it’s valuable to read blog posts, to listen to people tell you their story, to have breakfast face to face. It gives us a chance to flesh out our own stories, to articulate our steps forward. I first started to realize this when I began meeting with my mentor. We would have breakfast every other Thursday in the same restaurant booth. And he really never gave me that much advice – but he listened so well. He gave me a space to lay out my situation before another person and make the best sense of it I could. I always walked away feeling so refreshed.

Earlier tonight, I talked for about an hour with an old friend in a dark parking lot. And a few minutes ago I read a rather un-insightful blog post. I think that both were potentially worthwhile acts of communication. From the context of dissemination, communication is done as a pursuit of truth. And if people are blessed along the way, then it’s an even greater thing. The professor teaching the class I referenced says that he’s taught this material many many times, and the year he teaches it without learning anything will be the year he finds something else to do with his life. He teaches as an articulation of his own pursuit of truth.

We ought to listen to each other. And, 86 blog posts later, I thank you for affording me that kindness.

After church, someone in the circle brought up the age-old question, “So what are we allowed to do on Sunday anyway?”

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Being a student requires me to read and to listen to lectures for many hours each week. What follows are not my own ideas – but a condensed version of reading from Peter Scazzero’s “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality” and today’s lecture on creation by Dr. Wanner.

Work and Rest

To understand rest, we must understand work. God works for six days, creating a flawless (yet imperfect and incomplete) world. On day seven God is enthroned over all he has made, and he hands the work of creation completion over to us. With the charge of authority and creativity, we are told to keep creating and bringing order to the world – and in this God delights. Today, there ought be no distinction between “my job” and “God’s work.” Regardless of our occupation or position, Christians must approach their daily tasks as work to bring the world closer to completion. It is our purpose. The rest of the world does not participate in this sacred work, striving only towards their own gain. And from this good work we are also called to rest.

Scazzero writes about two ways in which God invites us to rest, the Daily Office and Sabbath keeping. These two practices are “an entirely new way of being in the world…[they are] ropes that lead us back to God in the blizzards of life.”

The Daily Office

The Daily Office might be different from your devotions in that it doesn’t fill you up for the day, so much as ground your being; it centers your focus on God. It is a time during the day set aside for the Lord, a time to be with him. There are monks who stop seven times a day to practice the Daily Office:

Vigils: 3:45 a.m. (middle of the night)

Lauds: 6 a.m. (predawn)

Prime: 6:25 a.m. (“first” hour)

Sext: 12:15 p.m. (“sixth” hour)

None: 2:00 p.m. (“ninth” hour)

Vespers: 5:40 p.m. (“evening”)

Scazzero encourages that we set our own time and length (anywhere from two minutes to forty-five minutes). “The great power in setting apart small units of time infuses a sacredness into the rest of my daily activities. The Daily Office, practiced consistently, actually eliminates any division of the sacred and the secular in our lives.”

This elimination of sacred and secular is something I long for. I want to grow into a frame of mind where every moment is holy, and I no longer see the work of God as separate from my daily tasks. This is what the Daily Office helps us do. “At each Office I give up control and trust God to run this world without me.”

Sabbath

To observe the Sabbath is not to rest our bodies in hope we will accomplish more in the long run. Sabbath is choosing to stop being productive, a rest where we lay down our work and trust our Father to provide what we need.

So what are we allowed to do on Sunday? Scazzero says, “Whatever delights and replenishes you.” Sabbath is about trusting God enough to stop being productive and taking time to delight. “Sabbath delight invites us to healthy play. ” After all, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27)

It’s also important to note that not everyone’s day of rest can be on the same day of the week. So we don’t have to feel guilty about forcing others to work. That is between them and God. Paul says, “One man considers one day more sacred than another; another man considers every day alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. He who regards one day as special, does so to the Lord.” (Romans 14:5-6).

I love how Scazzero compares Sabbath to a snow day. In the south, we get about one snow day every year. Everything stops – school is cancelled – work is cancelled – the plans you had are cancelled. And what do you do? You do whatever you want. You go out for a late breakfast with friends. You make a muddy snowman. You lay on the ground like a child and make angles. God offers us a snow day every week, even if July, if we’re up for it. It’s up to us to lean into to the concept, and it’s hard because the rest of the world never stops.

A snow day is a free day. There aren’t lists of things you cannot do. So I say, imitate your heavenly father. He moved from six days of work to enthronement and rest. Likewise, take a day to enthrone yourself on the ole armchair and put down the good work you’ve been doing. The snow soon melts, and Monday always comes around.

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