I love blogging. It’s such a good way to give my friends an update on what is going on. There’s far too many of them to call individually or even write a letter to. So, unlike the cartoon, I’m not avoiding people contact. I’m just trying to provide a timely update to the church plant.

Six degrees of separation is the theory that anyone on earth can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of acquaintances that has no more than five intermediaries. The theory was first proposed in 1929 by the Hungarian writer Frigyes Karinthy in a short story called Chains.

Various people have tested Karinthy’s theory, and generally agree that this is, indeed, a small world that we live in. And we all have our own “small world” stories to tell.

I’ve become interested in the webs of relationships that we all live in because of my work as a church planter. Someone knows someone who knows someone. The first someone may not be the person who can help you, but the someone two or three connections down the line may be.

I’ve quit discounting the help that anyone might give me. They may be radically different in theology, philosophy, lifestyle, or interests yet because of their connections they may be of great assistance. I am finding that, approached correctly, most people are quite interested or helpful with respect to my project.

Human relationships are like a giant spider web. We’re all connected in one way or another. Respecting that is a first step to great accomplishment.

I’m a Baby Boomer. My cohort grew up with the Vietnam War, Haight Ashbury, Janice Joplin, and free love. We are a huge group of people with incredible power and appetites.

Maybe that is one of the reasons that our children are asking for something different. Relationships instead of cocooning. Community service and compassion rather than the “me generation.” And ancient practices rather than the often shallow entertainment inclination we have.

One of the terms that is used to describe the younger generation is “postmodern.” When this generation was growing up it learned that the promises of modernism were often shallow and unreached. Science, politics, and humanism were incapable of doing what they promised.

Someone defined insanity as “doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results.” Churches, businesses, schools and other institutions that are effective today, realize that new approaches are called for in this new world. Otherwise they doom themselves to escalating failure as they attempt to impose “modern” methods on a postmodern world. Insanity.

You can see some neat things if you’re observant. Today I noticed an elderly man sitting by himself in a local business. He was reading a newspaper and minding his own business.

I got a table for myself and set up shop. Then a middle-aged man came in, and the elderly man greeted him. The middle-aged man joined him at a table, and they began to talk. A bit later a woman came in.

I loved the conversation that occurred. It was loud enough that those sitting around could hear it without evesdropping. The three talked about food and life. Mostly, the two younger people laughed, talked, asked questions, and listened.

I guessed that they were his children because the conversation flowed like warm honey. They finally finished their coffee and left.

I think that the reason I paid so much attention to the conversation is that the old man reminded me of my father. My dad walked like him, told stories like him, and enjoyed just being around his children.

I left the coffee shop wishing I could call my father and have a cuppa with him.

We arrived at the retreat location about 1 PM. I can’t tell you the location because I’d have to kill you.

There were nearly 20 of us that spent 28 hours together. The retreat began with a road race. This was a neat opportunity to test our team building skills.

Our facilitator made the retreat interesting with lots of interactive exercises. She was a college dean with wonderful insights and skills to share.

Sometimes people say, “Couldn’t we do the retreat in our hometown and go every night to our homes?” The answer is always, “not if you want to accomplish the same level of awareness and experience.” Not having the distraction of family, traffic, phones, and television is important to the retreat experience.

We started the retreat with polite handshakes. When we separated on Sunday, there were hugs all around. I’d say it was an extremely valuable experience.

I can’t express how dear my friends are to me. I just got off the phone with a particularly good friend of mine. He’s the sort of person your can pour out your joys and frustrations to without fear.

When you have a friend like that you don’t have to worry about anything being repeated. You can feel completely free and unafraid. Words that are unrefined or negative are lovingly taken and put through a filter.

I can’t say that is true of everyone I know. Sometimes words have to be guarded because they will be repeated or distorted. These are not true friends and cannot be trusted.

I think that the primary difference between a friend and anybody else is that your friend knows you from the inside out. Acquaintenances only know you from the outside and can never be expected to know you any better. This tremendously limits their ability to relate to you in any meaningful way.

I pulled the little cardboard tag out of my post office box that said, “You have a package,” and I went happily to the counter. I expected it would either be the pens I had ordered or the cellophane bags.

We ordered the pens and the bags for the purpose of advertising, and I’ve eagerly awaited the opportunity to spread the word. So I opened the box and grabbed a pen to look at the imprint. No! It had a misspelling. 500 pens with the wrong information on them.

I couldn’t wait to check my e-mail order to see if it was my fault. I typed out the information on an imaginary keyboard. How could I type an “i” instead of a “u” I wondered. http://www.lifespringchirch.com would never work.

I found the order. Relief! It was not my fault. I could call the company and request a corrected order. They were very polite and helpful. “The new delivery date is January 19,” she said.

But what am I going to do with the misprinted pens? The lady told me I could give them away or donate them to an agency. It is my choice.

Now that I’ve got the mystery solved, I’m struck with the humor or sadness of this. If I give these away, 500 people will be frustrated by the fact that the web address printed on the pens leads them to a dead end.

Which is like a lot of other “information” that is handed out today. Dead end.

I’ve been told that church planting is an occupation with extreme highs and lows, and I am coming to believe it. But I’m not complaining.

I’d much rather put up with the occasional low point than monotony. Monotony in an emotional lobotomy. Everything becomes a level plain. Monotony makes everything predictable and familiar, but it also removes the exhileration that comes when you experience the heights.

The emotional lows make the mountaintops all the more scenic and exciting. I’ve seen the truth of that in the past few days. Today a man pulled up a chair next to me and asked, without prompting, “what do you do for a living?” I felt a rush as I gave him an “ask” brochure that invites participation in our plant.

Later in the afternoon I got a post from a community contact I had been praying about. I now have an appointment with him in a few weeks.

I don’t know what the result of all this will be, however, I believe that this is headed in a direction that God has set. That’s an experience you can’t have on the prarie. It only occurs in the mountain heights.

This reminds me of what the grandmother says in Parenthood. She said she’d rather ride the roller coaster than the ferris wheel because of the monotony of the ferris wheel. Amen.

A friend of mine used to talk about the fog in California. I visualized it as the fog I had experienced growing up in Arkansas. A bit here. A bit there. Always very localized. I thought that was what she was talking about.

She said that sometimes the California fog lasted for days and that some people suffered depression because of it. California fog is like a blanket that covers the land and blacks out the light. It sometimes causes multi-car wrecks.

Tonight, in the comfort of our neighborhood, we crept home in the fog. I turned on the wrong street because I couldn’t see our own street. The fog blocked the light, covered the signs, and created confusion. The fog made the light and warmth of our home comfortable and pleasant.

I most hate the fog that fills the mind. Fog that comes from being tired, or unprepared, or indifferent. That fog only leaves when the light of truth shines on it.

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg

“My wife really likes that drink.” That’s what I said as an icebreaker to the person sitting near me in a local coffee shop.

We talked for nearly an hour about life, church, art, travel, and children. I found out a lot about this person in that short while, and it makes me feel like I’ve touched something holy.

Being allowed to step into somone’s life in that way is an incredible experience. One moment she was a complete stranger to me and the next I knew her name and a bit about her life. What a gift that is!

It was a delightful hour, and she was bright and interesting. But she said that at a young age she was diagnosed as being retarded. She’s not! It reconfirmed for me how dangerous it is to make snap judgments about people. You may be wrong.