Mark Scandrette

It was an exceptionally warm spring day– and walking home from my last appointment yesterday I could sense that there would be a lot of activity in the neighborhood over the weekend. You can feel it in the air and pick up the vibe from the energy of the people you walk by. One of the clues for me was a man I saw sitting up in a tree wearing a clown suit and roller skates and sipping champagne. The Mission District is such a vibrant neighborhood with a lot of energy—both positive and playful and negative and violent.

When I got home I called the family together to discuss our plans for the evening. We were sitting in our front room, deciding to have a quiet evening at home, when I heard the gunshot and ran to the window. A young thin man wearing a red hat and a large young woman ran toward our front steps and then doubled back in the other direction. I saw blood and rushed to call 911. When I got off the phone we began to hear the sirens. Out of respect for Lisa, I’ve learned to wait a few minutes after the gunshots to go outside to look. I walked out the door and found the young woman lying face down on the corner—now surrounded by police and paramedics. She had been shot in the chest, but was still conscious. The police began asking me questions as other officers searched for bullets and taped off the area. I stood with a young Latin man, who had blood on his hands and pants. He was walking to the subway listening to his headphones when he discovered the young woman lying facedown on the pavement. He held her in his arms trying to keep her awake until the paramedics arrived. The police questioned him suspiciously and accused him of being intoxicated—which he wasn’t. He had just been in the wrong place at the right time.

The paramedics went to work on the young woman, stripping her shirt, wrapping her in blankets and placing an oxygen mask over her face. After they loaded her into the ambulance I went back inside to tell the family what I’d seen. In our neighborhood, if you don’t go outside to look, you would never know what happened. The eight police cars, three rescue vehicles and two fire trucks and all the police-line-do-not-cross tape were gone in fifteen minutes. I talked with the family and we prayed for the young girl. We didn’t even know her name. We asked that she would survive, recover and discover a new way of life apart from the gangs.  The phone rang. It was a police officer with more questions and information. The gun was found on the next block. It wasn’t a drive-by like I’d thought. Someone fired and then quickly ran away, blending into the crowd.

Unfortunately one of the signs of spring in our district is the sound of gunshots interspersed with the chirping of birds. Although we think our Barrio Libre initiative has been helpful this event makes us wonder how we can relate to fatherless children in a more tangible way.

Last Friday night while Lisa and I were dining at the bar in our favorite Italian restaurant, a young man sat down next to us and promptly initiated a conversation,
“So, what do the two of you do for a living?,” he asks. I explain that I am a writer and teacher with an organization working to help people integrate the message of Jesus into their everyday lives, and then add:
“We are fascinated with what Jesus and his message can offer—as distinct from what many people expect through their experience with organized religion.”
I hope to say more, but he quickly interjects:
“I grew up Catholic and I have no respect for the church. When I was seventeen a priest paid me six hundred dollars to [perform oral sex on him].”

He goes on to tell about a conversation he had in a London hotel with some Christian college students:
“I found them to be very close-minded and judgmental,.” he says. I reply,
“Their intentions were likely noble–they probably just had limited life experience and would become more generous and understanding with age and maturity. In my experience, people who are the most judgmental often struggle with the same issues they condemn in others.”

Then he launches into a sordid tale about his time at prestigious Christian college–where he was on a four-year scholarship. The bar tender leans in to listen.

“So, my freshman year at this college I worked as a male stripper at a gay club. I wasn’t gay—just crazy rebellious. Well, fast-forward three years. I met this girl who was a senior and we started having sex in her dorm room. Her roommates secretly reported this to the administration and we were separately called into a review by the adminis-tration. She had her meeting first and they expelled her from the school. It was against school policy for students to have sex on campus. I was freaking out! I started calling friends all over the country trying to figure out how to get into another school to graduate my senior year. So when I walked into the meeting with the administration and a peer review board the school official behind the desk saw me was suddenly startled. He nervously rechecked the incident report and asked, ‘So, you’re Daniel Flannagan?’ It turned out that the guy was a frequent patron of the strip club where I had worked– and regularly shoved dollar bills down my shorts. He quickly dismissed the charges and reinstated my girlfriend as a student so she could graduate. The students on the peer review board had to have been so confused— no one ever brought up the incident again.”

“What did this experience make you think about faith?” I ask. He replies, “People can talk all they want about morality and ethics, but it’s how you really live that matters.”

“That’s exactly what our organization tries to help people do,” I say. Changing the subject I ask, “How do you spend your time?”
“Well, to be quite frank, the past seven months I’ve been nursing quite a drinking problem. That’s why I’m starting with beer and Sprite tonight. I work as a bartender at an upscale restaurant and get hammered every night.

“Is this something you hope to change?,” I ask.

“My girlfriend is a radiologist and the other day she did a sonogram of my liver. She thought it would be trashed– but was shocked that it appears to be fine. It must be my Irish blood. I can pass out drinking every night and still get up and go running or work-out the next morning.”

I respond with a story: “I have a friend who is a recovering alcoholic and he says that for him it was never about the drinking– the addiction was just a way he chose to mask to deeper problems. Do you find that to be true for you?”

He answers: “It is definitely deeper than the drinking. It used to be worse when it was about sex. Sometimes I would leave my friends at a social event just because I had to go have sex.”
“How serious are you about dealing with these issues?, I asked.

“My drinking is definitely beginning to affect my relationship with my girlfriend—and she and her kids mean a lot to me. I need to find a day job that doesn’t involve serving alcohol. The sex thing is getting better—I’ve stayed with one person for nearly a year now—that is a major achievement for me.”

He offers to buy us each a drink and we politely decline. Lisa has been nudging my knee for some time to remind me that we are out on a date. We exchange contact information and wish each other well and I settle our bill. When we walk outside the air is dusky warm—and I feel energized by this serendipitous and feel the lingering surprise of this intense conversation. When we got home I typed a quick note:

Daniel, You were pretty honest and vulnerable about issues in your life—including alcohol dependency. If I wasn’t on a date with my wife, I would have loved to have stayed to talk longer. One of the things I do is spiritual direction and life coaching for friends and clients. If you ever need someone to talk to about changes you are hoping to make in your life, I’d be glad to listen and offer support—not for pay, just as a friend.”

He quickly replied to my note, “Great to meet you as well. Nice to bump into people that see a different, maybe bigger inter-connected picture than most. I appreciate the life- coaching offer. I can never have too many friends, especially smart ones. I’ll stay in touch and am sure to see you guys again.

I can only imagine how God may be orchestrating a series of chance encounters in Daniel’s life with a chorus of characters who can help him along in his journey toward grace.

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In the mail I recently received a couple of copies of An Emergent Manifesto of Hope, a book that I contributed to and edited by my friends Tony Jones and Doug Pagitt. I think it is the best and most diverse compilation of writings by people considered to be part of the emerging church. Tony and Doug introduce the chapter sections in a helpful and friendly way. The articles contributed by 25 emerging church voices provide cautions, encouragements and challenges to us as we imagine and work toward a different and better future. Here’s an excerpt from my chapter entitled: The Messy and Fertile Process of Becoming:

Some among us, like the animals of the forest, have sensed a storm on the horizon, an intuition and murmuring of the torrent of change affecting the general culture and the church–shifts in social consciousness, globlization, economics, increasing mobility, plurality and societal fragmentation. These are examples of the many changes that determine the landscape of our journey to navigate faithfulness in the way of Jesus in the world we live in–changes that are coming and have now come.

People seem to be affected by these shifts in varying intensity dependent on region, personality and social location. A common result is a great desire for conversation with people who are also struggling to make sense of things. The emerging church is a place where people have felt the freedom to explore questions and experiment with new forms of lifestyle and corporate practice. Often these questions have been about the essence of the Christ-message, vocation, the nature and form of the church, cultural and philosophical analysis and the present agenda of God in the world.

We resonate with the story of two friends walking along the road to Emmaus, discussing the significance of the life and teachings of Jesus. During their conversation they were met by a stranger, and in the presence of a stranger their hearts were strangely warmed. Many of us have felt the presence of Jesus in the midst of our conversations with one another. For people in our time, conversation may be the first step toward entering the way. Conversation is also a path towards a greater sense of authentic relationship than some have experienced in more formal structures. Whatever the emerging church becomes, it began as a generative friendship among younger entrepreneurial leaders and seekers—an improvised support system for people desperate for connections with others experimenting with new ideas on faith and community.
We should acknowledge that for many of us the door was opened to reimagine faith and the church through pain, disappointment, failure, fatique, burn-out, public or private humiliation, or a sense of personal alienation. It can be argued that any social movement attracts anomalies, extremists and crazies— and the emergent phenomenon is no exception. We have brought along our peculiarities, unhealthy pathologies and shadow sides. Explorations into emerging faith have caused conflict in marriages. In isolated cases the emerging church community has been the stage on which people have played out their personal disintegration.

At times I’m fearful that permission to be deconstructive has attracted personalities that are prone to criticism, angst and melancholy. Some of us seem to avoid our unresolved personality issues, organic depressive tendencies and relational difficulties by transference to a perceived “spiritual crisis.” Some among us need encouragement and support to face our personal difficulties more directly rather than attributing so much of our struggles to ecclesiological or philosophical issues.

Even healthy rethinking of faith can still produce a profound sense of disequilibrium. My friend Craig Burnett suggests that deconstruction and reconstruction are regular rhythms in a life of apprenticeship to Jesus. We should not be too quick to dismiss or expect people to just “get over” their deconstruction– as if to graduate sequentially onto reconstruction. But concurrently we should encourage one another to imagine and enact proactive communal solutions and reconstructions.

Evan Howard suggests that spiritual conversion, rather than being a singular event is more accurately a series of distinctive epiphanies (ie. a conversion to the role of the Spirit, a conversion to social justice, a conversion to contemplative practices, etc). These are not conversions from one system to another, but represent the gradual complimentary and holistic renewal of the soul. These progressive awakenings can sometimes create a sense of grief and regret. For anyone not in a space of liminality, criticism, doubt and risky exploration may seem pessimistic and deconstructive. When we experience the deconstruction of our faith we are in good company with many of the characters of ancient scripture, whose expectations of what it meant to follow God were constantly being challenged and subverted. Our constructions of faith and practice are dismantled and at times, destroyed, so that we can approximate a more coherent and integrative orthopraxis.

Next week we are heading to Washington, D.C. for a family learning trip and book promotion. We are also looking forward to seeing friends. We thought that before we venture to Europe together we should stop by this nation’s capitol to study U.S. government and history. I will also be visiting Emergent cohorts in D.C. and Baltimore, promoting SOUL GRAFFITI. Here are the details, in case you live in the area:

Monday April 9: The D.C. Emergent Cohort at The Harp and Fiddle in Bethesda, MD 7-9 P.M.
Tuesday April 10: Baltimore Emergent Cohort at The Bare Bones Grill Ellicot City, MD 7-9 P.M.

We returned yesterday from our second annual silent retreat in Kirkwood. Since I generally talk 16 hours a day, it was quite refreshing to be forced into silence and a bit of solitude. The weekend was a good time to refocus and reflect on my priorities and goals. Somehow this year I would like to live with a greater sense of center, even when I am active and life is full. Here’s a poem I wrote about an experience I had this weekend:

Cautiously I step
onto the frozen crust
of deep packed snow.

Once or twice I hesitate
falling through up to my waste
Slowly learning to plant my feet
like stairs along the slope.

Past the fur trees I ascend
climbing a wall up toward the sky
on a path that goes on endlessly
My heart pounds
and my lungs labor
in the thin Sierra Nevada air.

At the top of the ridge
the wind howls through the stone crevaces
as I inch my way up towards the pinnacle
clawing through the snow
my hands scrape against the jagged ledge

I stop to catch my breath and notice
that I am at the top of the world!
with a three-hundred-sixty degree view
of surrounding mountains
stretching out in every direction
along the horizon.

I make my bed in the black lava
slowly removing my clothes
pressing my body against the warm ancient flow.

A top this perch I lay amidst snowdrifts
exposed to the sky
the sun beating down on my face
–and to shield my eyes from the brightness
I turn my head
gazing toward the mesa
on the far side of the valley

Hours pass like minutes
Nothing visible changes
until a cloud rolls by
veiling the mountain in cold blue shadows
that make my skin prickle

I look up at the swirling mist dancing above me
and wonder, “How long has it been?”
“Months? Years? A decade?”

This afternoon I will be still
sitting in silence, watching,
Remembering how small I am
in the vast expanse
of earth, sky and eternity
Bathed in the tempermental radiance of your wild.

There is a rapidly approaching event near San Francisco you may want to participate in. I think it has the potential to strengthen relationships among those of us in the Bay Area who long for a more holistic and integrated practice of faith and mission.

My friend Brian McLaren and Rene Padilla will be the key note speakers at the Integral Mission Conference in San Jose, March 30-31. There will also be workshops by local leaders, including myself.  The event addresses key questions:  What does a well-formed disciple look like? How does mission fuel discipleship? AND How does discipleship fuel mission?

For more information and registration, go to  www.integral-mission.org

Best wishes!

–mark