Thoughts

Recently I learned (from Tom Hodgkinson’s Idler newsletter) about a new project by the UN’s International Labour Organization training center. It’s a manifesto of sorts on the benefits of “slow learning.” From their website:

We live in an age of information overload, ever-accelerating technologies, and split-second learning. Citizens, learners, and workers today are required to continuously reskill, upskill, and newskill to keep up with this new pace. 

The Slow Food movement paved the way for a good, clean, fair future of food. And now, we’re putting on the brakes to learn at this new tempo. It’s time to praise questions over answers. It’s time to value observations over evaluations. It’s time to prioritize self-reflection over criticism.

This got me thinking about whether we could apply some of these same principles to discipleship and spiritual formation? What would “Slow Formation” or “Slow Discipleship” look like? In what ways have we in the church unconsciously absorbed the values of the fast-paced, profit-driven, novelty-obsessed culture around us? How might we reimagine discipleship at a slower pace that better aligns with how people actually grow in Christ?

The first part of the book is framed as a “Bill of Rights”, ten manifesto points for slow learners. Here they are, with a little explanation about each (written by Tom Hodgkinson, who contributed to the project).

(As a bill of rights, each item on the list is preceded by the statement: “You have a right to …”)

(Also, as you read these, think about how embracing this manifesto would change our approach to forming disciples of Jesus.)

1) Focus on direction, not destination.

Immerse yourself completely in the journey and you will reach your final goal gradually.

2. Raise your hand.

Asking questions is a fundamental human right.

3. Learn at your own pace.

Find your rhythm, find your flow. Don’t compare yourself to others.

4. Unplug.

You have the right to disconnect and move your attention towards what’s essential. Learn unplugged, far away from digital distractions.

5. Change your learning path (and mind).

Don’t get too comfortable in the habit zone and start with changing the aversion to change. Think differently and learn new things.

6. Take a break.

Micro-breaks, lunch breaks, and longer breaks will all improve your learning performance. You have the right to rest.

7. Make mistakes.

Don’t fall into despair but Fail Forward.

8. Leave it unfinished.

We live in a super busy, multi-tasking, results-oriented society. Step away from your long to-do list and enjoy once in a while the beauty of an unstructured day.

9. Unlearn and forget.

Harness the power of unlearning. Reboot your mind, abandon old knowledge, actions and behaviors to create space.

10. Slow down.

Sometimes slow and steady will win the learning race. Make haste slowly.

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I’m especially struck by #9 (Unlearn and forget). The Christian word for this is “repentance” I think, and it’s such an important aspect of our spiritual formation. We’re not merely gaining new knowledge and new habits in discipleship, but also abandoning old “knowledge” and behaviors, and learning to see the world in a completely new way.

We’re shifting our allegiance and trust to Jesus, which necessarily means leaving behind our old allegiances to principalities and powers that we’ve spent a lifetime trusting to tell us the truth and lead us into life. There’s a lot of unlearning and forgetting we all need to do as we follow Jesus.

I wonder what occurs to you as you read this list? How could we apply this slow learning manifesto to begin creating a Slow Discipleship Manifesto?

(breathing in) You’re the breath in my lungs;
(breathing out) You’re the heat on my skin.
(breathing in) All-Consuming Flame of Love:
(breathing out) Transform me from within.

Previously, I wrote a few provisional thoughts on the Asbury revival (or is it an outpouring? an awakening?), which has recently stopped its meetings on campus. I wanted to name a few more observations about the revival, as well as the responses I’ve seen to the revival on social media.

The revival itself seems to have been led well, especially in an era where “going viral” is often thought to be an assumed good. At every turn, the leaders, while being receptive to what seems to be a move of God’s Spirit, also seem to have chosen humility by resisting the impulse to capitalize on the attention by “hyping” the revival. The recent decision to wind down the revival services on campus is evidence of this.

In many responses to the revival I’ve seen on social media, I’ve noticed a resistance to exploring the complexity of this event (and revivals in general). A few people are upset that anyone would think God is involved in this at all (“This is nothing more than emotional manipulation!”). Others are upset that anyone would ask critical questions of a revival at all (“Why are you complaining about kids worshiping God?”).

Why is it difficult to recognize that things can be more than just one thing? Why is it difficult to simultaneously affirm that God may be genuinely meeting these kids in their sincere spiritual hunger, AND that we need to think critically and historically about the socio-cultural phenomenon of revivals, and the work they do “under the surface” that can actually undercut the stated theology of a revival?

Why is it so rare to find places where we can simultaneously repent of the ways that “revivals” have been used as entertaining distractions from engaging in the long, hard work of justice for the oppressed, AND rejoice in the simple beauty of thousands of kids longing for God?

I think I know why, actually. It has to do with our histories, our traumas, our survival mechanisms, our resistance to allowing an alternative perspective to change the stories we tell ourselves about events like these. We’re afraid of crossing a bridge that may lead to a place where we don’t have all the answers, where we have to rethink our histories, where we have to repent.

It’s complicated, though, because there are both personal traumas and social power dynamics at work in an event like this, and it’s important to take all of that into consideration as we process how God may be at work in this to draw us more fully into liberation, justice, and abundant life for all.

But repentance is where the life is, so let’s do it! (Plus it’s Lent.) Let’s explore the dynamics of these kinds of events with openness to being surprised and changed. Let’s be curious about our responses to the revival, and our responses to other people’s responses, what makes us upset and hopeful, angry and filled with joy.

Let’s listen especially to the perspectives of people of color, whose communities were so often left disappointed in wake of revival. Let’s open ourselves to discovering God at work in the most unlikely of places.

You’ve probably heard about the revival happening at Asbury University by now. It’s a pretty interesting phenomenon on a number of levels, both in terms of what’s happening and in terms of how people are responding to what’s happening.

It hasn’t even been happening for two weeks, and I’m not entirely sure what to make of it yet, so I’m hesitant to issue proclamations about it one way or another, but in case they’re helpful, and with great fear and trepidation, here are a few provisional, barely-edited thoughts I have about this:

1) I have no reason to doubt the Holy Spirit is at work in this.

I often have powerful experiences with God during worship at the church I co-pastor (they don’t look like Asbury, mind you). But people often comment that God was powerfully working during a worship service to bring comfort and consolation in Word and Sacrament. My call to ministry took place at an event much like this 29 years ago.

Perhaps it’s inaccurate or premature to call it a revival (Should we call it an outpouring? A glorious marathon worship service? A chapel service that hasn’t ended yet?), but just because we don’t see everything we might come to expect or hope from a “revival” doesn’t invalidate the experience these students are having.

2) God’s work isn’t a zero-sum game.

I also have no reason to doubt the Holy Spirit is also at work in many other places and in many other ways. It almost goes without saying, but God can work in more than one place and in more than one way.

God bringing conviction and consolation to a group of young people in Kentucky does not mean that God is ignoring the victims of the earthquake in Turkey and Syria, for example.

3) It’s well worth examining the socio-political dynamics of “revivals”.

My friend Seth Richardson (who runs Gravity Congregational Transformation) is particularly good at this . There is a kind of “one track mind” that can kick in for evangelicals when it comes to “revivals”, a collapsing of faith and hope into this one thing that’s happening in this one place that will make all our dreams come true and fix everything and bring America back to God! (See also the “He Gets Us” ad campaign, and The Passion of the Christ, and… and…)

For example, some people have driven for hours across state lines to be part of what’s happening at Asbury. Do they also drive for hours across state lines to stand in solidarity with marginalized and oppressed people in need? Why do we think of the sustained singing of a group in Wilmore to be a “revival” but don’t think of the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020 that demanded justice and accountability for police brutality to be a “revival”?

Again, it doesn’t invalidate what may be happening locally at Asbury, but it’s also an opportunity to reflect on the “under the surface” work that “revivals” do in the (white) American evangelical imagination: getting us “off the hook” for the deep repentance we need to do in, e.g., detangling our faith and practice from the toxic tendrils of racism, patriarchy, and mammon.

4) At the end of the day, the attention we’re giving it might ruin it.

So far it seems to just be a sustained, powerful worship service. Which is not to belittle it at all. I’ve been part of gatherings like this, and they can be wonderful experiences that change people’s lives!

But I’m not sure the national spotlight on this “revival” is helpful, because instead of just being an unusual extended experience of worship and prayer for a group of university students, all kinds of different people are now projecting their own expectations, experiences, and agendas onto it.

I fear that the immediate national news and social media coverage of the Asbury event may end up ruining what could have been a sustained, powerful worship experience for some kids at a Christian college in Kentucky.

I preached last Sunday (Feb 5, 2023), the Fifth Sunday After the Epiphany, using the texts from Rev. Dr. Wilda Gafney’s Women’s Lectionary: 2 Kings 5:1-4, 9-14; Psalm 30; Acts 16:16-24; and Matthew 9:18-26. The sermon text is below, and you can find the 17-minute sermon audio here.

[Read more…] about Finding Jesus at the End of Your Rope: An Epiphany Sermon