In the last decade, mainline churches have been trying out/trying on a variety of styles of worship labeled “Emergent.” I’m not really interested in what is/what isn’t emergent. Quite frankly, I don’t think anyone around Humble Walk cares. It seems to me, Emergent is another stupid church word. Well, that’s putting it ungraciously. Perhaps more kindly, it’s a way to describe or interpret something that is bubbling up. Emerging, if you will.

In the beginning, emergent meant lighting some candles in worship. Like, beyond the altar candles. Another big trend was to have someone paint or draw during worship. I know–I get it. We are all trying to bust out of the box and think about doing church differently. But often these attempts made me roll my eyes and think, “Of course you are. So Emergent!” Snark, snark, snark.

Now, look at me. Eating humble pie. Because in the month of January, we did both candle-lit worship AND had an artist paint.

How we arrived at So Emergent!

Advent/Christmas is exhausting. My community was tired. I was tired. So, when I thought about putting aside liturgy and intense intentional interaction for two weeks…I felt a sense of restfulness. Like, the pressure on all of could be lifted. We didn’t have to work (liturgy meaning “the work of the people”)…it didn’t matter how many people were there. We could just sit. In a quiet space. Without expectation. And listen. After all the noise of Christmas, who wouldn’t want that?

Then, I started thinking about what visual people we are–and how at HW, we focus so much on audio. Songwriters, singing, music, talking, talking, talking. Plus, Matt is us. He isn’t imported. It would sinful not to acknowledge what he brings to the community or negate his vocation.

We just completed a three-week run with Matthew GG Holm at the helm of our art world. Matt filled the walls of Acme Academy of Arts with his abstracts. He painted, we painted, there was paint, and it was messy and good. I would also like to add that Matt did a tremendous amount of work for us–in prep, in hauling, in hanging, in risking, in taking down, in hauling, in putting himself out there for us. We are filled with gratitude for this work.

Want to jump the shark and import Matt? You can. For a price. (Contact him directly).

We are halfway through Advent. This Sunday, we light the third candle. John the Witness visits…pointing us to Jesus. We are on our way.

We may have to delay Christmas, however. Seriously. I know we have been waiting, with an appropriate level of expectancy. We are prayfully observing this season. We are tending to our relationships and bodies with homemade soup and bread (hello, incarnation). But how can Jesus really come if we don’t have a baby for the dramatic reading on Christmas Eve?

Once again, the good folks at Christ on the Capitol are loaning us their amazing fleet of costumes. We have a lovely, low-key worship service in the works. There will be candles to hold, Silent Night to sing, a manger to hold the Christ-child…and you can play the role of Mary or Cow or Sheep or Angel or Shepherd.

Well, truth be told, the baby in our reading might be Big Baby (on loan from Elsa). Even so, Jesus will slip into the world and once again, transform the whole thing.

We are still getting used to our new worship location and we have learned a few things. We know our new landlords show us wonderful hospitality: our place is nicely warmed, the floors are buffed, the bathroom has ample TP and the bins we store are always, always where we leave them.

We know that when the Vikings are playing, lots of people will gather at Joe and Stan’s  (next door) to watch the game. And they will likely take all of the closest parking spots. Sports!

We know that there is ample foot traffic in front of our building. People pause at our window–noses press to the glass–as they pass by. (“What the heck are they doing in there?”) We know that if communion bread is missing, the kind manager at nearby Subway will sell us a couple of uncut loaves for a buck.

For this season of Advent, we put our bike-parts thurible outside our door, on the sidewalk. About fifteen minutes before worship begins, we light the coal and pile on some frankincense and myrrh incense. The smoke pours out–and both our eyes and noses experience a call to worship.

I especially love that when I go outside to light it, there is a group of smokers huddled together outside Joe and Stan’s. I laugh and light it up.

Man, church is weird.

You know why I love Thanksgiving? Because it means that the church season of Advent is only a few days away. It’s awfully nerdy, this love I have of the church seasons. But admit it–you have your own little nerd corner that you rule. Maybe it’s fantasy football or mowing the lawn a particular way or maybe it’s something you won’t even cop to in certain social circles. Not me–I’m putting it out there for all seven of you readers. I love the drama of the church calendar…and Advent reigns supreme.

Advent marks the four weeks leading up to Christmas. For four Sundays, we surround ourselves with blue altar cloths. We light candles in the Advent wreath. We huddle together in the growing darkness. We sing songs about expectant, hope-filled longing. And we wait.

All of that is set against another story we might be living. And that story might include: addiction, incredibly messy family systems, weariness, unemployment, life-sucking employment, loneliness, depression, grief, eating disorders. Did you read that list and think, “Oh, those poor folks. I am so glad I don’t have to deal with any of those things.” Okay, then how about the onslaught of consumerism? If you breathe, you can’t help but be swept up into the Black Friday, early Black Friday, post Black Friday buy! buy! buy! It seeps into all the cracks and tells us how to have a Holly Jolly Christmas (read: spend your money on this product or experience).

A few weeks ago, a pilot group of Humble folks gathered for a simple meal and talked about what Advent offers. We listened to one another talk about the pressure we feel…to provide a “good” Christmas for our people…all the while being aware of the reality of our broken lives. What I heard was a strong voice to keep our community and worship life simple. Humble, if you will. We don’t want to do more or add more. Mostly, we want to be intentional with the relationships we have with one another.

Then, a few folks offered to make and provide soup and bread for the community. And a new 2011 Advent discipline was born. You are invited to sit with us. To sing songs of hope. To wait. To light candles. To hear the words of the prophets and that reckless Messiah. Then, if you are hungry, stick around for a bowl of soup and some bread.

I am sure it is not news to you that Humble Walk is not a bricks and mortar church. We are a church without walls. When we need walls or a place to gather, we rely on the assets of the community. Bars, parks, storefronts, alleys, your lawn, coffee shops. You get the idea. Two public spaces that have become quite important to us this month are Acme Scenic Art (where we worship) and Claddagh Coffee (where is seems that we do most everything else).

If you haven’t been to worship on Sunday since we moved into Acme, you are missing out. While it takes a bit of poking to find us (park across the street at Best Pawn and look for our icon in the window), it is worth your trouble. It’s spacious and beautiful. One person told me, “This space feels different. It feels holy.” Another said, “It feels a bit more grown up. In a good way. Maybe more serious?” There is room for mystery and you and your questions. Come and try it on.

Claddagh Coffee is down the road a bit (still on W 7th) towards downtown. It’s another gorgeous space. The staff is kind and helpful…they give you the impression that they actually want you there. The drinks and food are great. But what I love, love, love is the community that is being built inside their walls. One time, Mayor Coleman sat at the table next to us. Yesterday, I witnessed one of the owners wait on a man who was intoxicated and told the room, “I am black and I am homeless. Will you still serve me?” He was served–and the owner met him with dignity and care.  And I thought to myself, “This space feels different. It feels holy.”

Guess what? We have a created an event where you can try out both of these spaces on the same day. On Sunday, Oct. 2, kids get to be dropped off at Acme at 3PM for their own dreaming and playing (with supervision, of course). Adults and teens gather in the lower level reserved area at Claddagh. We’ll have coffee waiting for you. And we will do some reflecting and dreaming together. Then, we’ll all meet up at Acme for our Feast worship (meal provided by Heavenly Day Cafe. Word.)

“Hope has two beautiful daughters: their names are anger and courage. Anger that things are the way they are. Courage to make them the way they ought to be.” -Saint Augustine

This week, we take up the story of Abraham, Sarah and Isaac. It is an old, old story with themes of waiting, promises, pain and hope.  One some level, there are things that we have all given up on. A life we thought we would be living. Meeting the right person. Taking up an instrument. Finishing a degree. Having enough money in savings to breathe a bit easier. Being good at soccer.  Mending a relationship that seem irreparable. What is it that you have given up on?

From the beginning of HW, we have tried to put our most vulnerable population out front and let them set the pace. Most often, this is our kids. Allowing them to lead had continually shaped how we are together as a community. It just occurred to me that it’s happened again. Here is how…

Early yesterday morning, I was preparing for text study. (Yes, I study before gathering with others to study…this way I have something to contribute AND I look way smart. Which is the goal.) Anyway, I started to think about an alternative lectionary that is now circulating around preacher’s corners. Sidenote: the lectionary is the cycle of texts from the Bible that we hear/preach each week. Anyway, I read through the fall narrative lectionary and saw Abraham and Sarah, Joseph in Egypt, Ruth (RUTH!!), Soloman, Elijah…and a whole bunch of others.  It’s a whole trip through the Old Testament…leading up to Jesus’ birth on Christmas (thus, “narrative”). It’s the story that has shaped our ancestors. It is our story. Do you want to learn it together?

What does this have to do with kids? Well…they tasted, listened, felt, saw and smelled their way through the whole narrative during Wild Week in August. Totally trumped by the youngsters! Oh, those kids and their new fangled old ideas.

So, come and hear these stories. Try them on. See what they have for you and your life.

Well folks. I know you have all enjoyed our time at Highland Park picnic area…buuuuuut, this is the final Sunday in the park. I know, I know. You will miss the hotdogs and steamy 105 degree temps. (Seriously, the weather was perfect our first week in July…and then it exploded). We have been shaped by the experience. We have been patience.  And now…we are entering into a one-month trial with Acme Scenic Arts on West 7th. Read about them (fascinating) http://www.acmescenicarts.com/about.html.

What you need to know is that space is beautiful…spacious, warm and bright. One very exciting thing we gain in this move is a sink for filling our water/coffee pots. Score! No more hauling water jugs to and from the space. Thank you, Jesus. Plus…tall, tall ceilings. And it’s right on our main drag. This gallery is connected to an AA meeting house, a bar and another gallery and a tea house. A little something for everyone. And now, a little Humble Walk.

If the courtship goes well (they like us, we like them…), we will sign on for six more months.  We will have limited chairs for the trial month, so we would love you to bring a camp chair or two when you come. And you will come. And you will bring everyone you know. And it will be awesome.

What do you all think? Do we have your blessing to sign up for this dating service?

Check out this baptismal font. Yeah, baby! Since our exodus from the Pilney Building, we have been gathering in Highland Park on Sundays. It looks, feels, tastes, smells and sounds differently. We are at picnic tables. Some folks sit on the grass. Others bring camping chairs. Last week, our community included three dogs and an uncle from California.

Babies crawl around on blankets. Small people run and run and run in the green space. Prayers are spoken. Wine is poured into plastic cups. Word is read, chewed and responded to. There are always too many hotdogs. Friends who come to the park to play (with no intention of going to church) are invited in to eat. And suddenly, we are there together, breaking bread.

Last Sunday, it was swampy hot. Someone commented on facebook that we should probably be worried about the pull of Highland Pool…so tantalizingly close to us….just across the street. We responded that we will just claim the pool as the biggest baptismal font ever. If you get pulled over to the pool, we will rejoice with you. That’s the thing about how the Holy Spirit seems to work–drawing us in, closer to the water. And if you spend enough time by that water–you are eventually going to get wet.

Come and see.

This Sunday, we will gather for the last time in the Pilney Building. We don’t have our next home in place. Well, we know where we are going to be in July:  Highland Park…like the actual park, park…on Montreal across from the pool. But, beyond July (or possibly August)…we are still homeless.

We own a few Rubbermaids full of stuff. Cups, plates, coffeemaking supplies, altar clothes, etc. It’s not a lot…but more than any one person would want to store.

So, on Sunday, we gathered all our physical assets into  two piles. One pile was the stuff we want to be free of…large pillar candles, cocoa mix, etc. These were free for the taking. Even mobile churches with few assets can stand to downsize.

The second pile contained items looking for foster care. We asked folks to take home an item or two, store them and then bring them back in a month or two when we find a new place. Out the door went the Paschal candle and stand, the Goodwill collection of coffee mugs, the art supplies.

We are down to the very basics: our altar stuff (baptismal bowl, cross, chalice, plate, offering can). With any move, you get to see your stuff…right there, all laid out and then decide what you really need. For the next month or two–we need one Rubbermaid.