As promised yesterday here is my review of It’s A Dance: Moving With The Holy Spirit, by Patrick Oden.

In a nutshell … I want to buy this book for all my friends and sit down and talk about it with them over coffee and Bishop’s Bread (my very favorite coffee cake – homemade). Of course, since they are spread out over four time zones this might be fairly difficult. I’m having a hard time writing a serious review that all of you will pay attention to, because really … the book just makes me grin and laugh and think all at the same time. It makes me want to dance again.

For everyone who needs experience with the Holy Spirit … get It’s A Dance. For those of you who are post-charismatic or charismissional … get It’s A Dance. It’s a must. Seriously (and now I feel slightly like a used car salesman … but … I really mean this).

Here are my favorite things about It’s A Dance …

First, it’s so holistic. It is complete and whole and yet within the warp and woof of the text I found room for my own story to weave in and out; making a new picture amongst the original.

When I was a child my dad used to play a silly game with me. He would put his hands together and put his fingers together in a certain manner and say, “Here is the church.” Then he’d change their position, “Here is the steeple.” Then he’d change the position again, “Open the door,” and he’d flip his hands around and waggle his fingers in the air at me, “and see all the people.”

So many books on theology and the church don’t have any place for the people. There are no people in the church or in theology. They are dry. When you flip them around and open them up, there’s nothing there to waggle. But It’s A Dance has room for people in it’s theology and in the church. I suspect each person reading this book will find a uniquely different story here, because they have a different story to weave in amongst it’s main threads.

Patrick also manages to deal with huge themes fairly thoroughly in a smallish book. He doesn’t do so completely, but he hits the high points and does so gracefully and thoroughly through the venue of conversational story-telling. We read about power, pride, church issues, giving, receiving, marriage, love, creativity, unity, leadership, following, going, staying, sacred and secular … among many other things.

Second, It’s A Dance really is a dance. One of the things I love is finding patterns that reveal further patterns. It’s one of the things I love about history. It’s also one of the things I love about quilting. So many quilts use fabric patterns and block patterns to reveal secondary, larger patterns going on. So you begin making one thing and end up making something entirely different. Patrick used the metaphor of a dance to describe the relationship of the Trinity to one another. He does so beautifully in this piece of conversation:

“Well, I know that God doesn’t seem too concerned if he doesn’t make sense, but I do think God works and exists in a way that can make sense to us, if only on some level. One basic way of understanding God’s interaction with himself is to think of his existence as a dance.”

“A dance?”

“Yeah, a dance. What happens when people are dancing?”

I pause for a moment, not quite sure what he’s asking. “Depends on the style I guess, but people move together following a specific rhythm.”

“Take ballroom dancing,” Nate says.

“I did, and lasted about half the class before falling too far behind.”

“It’s complicated,” he laughs. “Two people have to act in a concerted way to the music. Moving their whole bodies in intricate patterns together, always acting and reacting to what the other person is doing, always moving with each other even if they aren’t doing the same thing.”

“God is a dancer?”

“God is all the dancers, and the music, and everything. Think of the Trinity as interacting in this complicated and amazingly intricate dance. They are all moving as one, together, even as they are not the same person and even if they are doing different things in different ways.”

“God is not line dancing, is He?”

“No,” Nate laughs. “That’s everyone doing the same sort of thing together, all in a row. God is like a ballroom dancer, or even better, a ballet, with the whole show being this gathered collection of intricate steps and interactions. The dancers highlight each other, point to each other. They create this rhythmic flow out of their separate contributions.”

“The Trinity is that sort of dance?”

“That’s basically what the term perichoresis means. It’s a swirling together dance of the Trinitarian persons.” (p. 85-86)

Yet on a deeper level, It’s A Dance is also a dance between textbook, novel and Scripture. Patrick very adeptly uses the dance metaphor as a description and as an organizational tool to form the basis of the conversation that flows throughout this book. The conversation dances along, winding it’s way through scripture and text and story always leaving space for the reader to improvise a few steps of their own and find their own story within the larger story; to say, “Hey, I recognize that,” or “I remember when that happened and I …” or “Wow, that looks something like x in our community and I bet we could …”

Third, the historian in me was oh, so happy to discover that everything old really is new again. When I first read reviews of the book it was revealed that it is a novel written in conversation form. It takes place almost entirely in the form of conversations between Luke, a newspaper reporter, and Nate, a “pastor” (you’ll have to read the book to discover why I put quotes around that 😉 ) and several other people involved in Nate’s church. “Hmmm,” I thought. “Interesting approach.” But then I got to the end of the book and read (as I always do) the notes on the sources. Well, first I read the Bibliography. Before that I have to tell you that there are no footnotes in this book making it a wonderfully refreshing read. The bibliography is diverse and spread out … by which I mean I think there are books in this bibliography from all periods in Christian history. Indeed the final quote in the main body of the book comes from Tertullian … not entirely expected in a book on the Holy Spirit, but in the end, entirely apt. Then I read that the idea of writing the text in the format of a conversation came from, not something new and novel, but from an extremely old and ancient source … The Conferences, written by John Cassian in the 400’s AD. As Patrick writes (in his notes on sources):

The conversation breaks up the difficult considerations and allows for questions to be asked–questions that are often on the readers’ minds. It also makes the theology into a story. This is not a removed set of philosophical statements but instead people living the life God has called them to live. We remember the story, the characters, the conversation much better than we remember details and notes. (p. 266)

He’s right. We do remember stories and characters and conversations. Theology … not so much. But if it’s put into the context of story, we can remember it. More than that, we can embrace it and find it in our own story. And this last is why I think this book is so important. It allows the reader to approach and embrace some really important theology in a way that many other books on the subject do not. It brings lofty subjects down to street level … which is where God might just want them in the first place.

So … if you only get one book in November, let this be it. Or put it on your Christmas list. Just make sure you read it.

Fairly early on in my blogging career (such as it is), I stumbled across this little known blog called Present Matters. No one else that I knew followed this blog. I had a hard time finding the name of the person writing it. And for quite a long time I was convinced the author was a crusty old man. He sure sounded like it from his writing. He wrote dense, long posts about long dead monks and dusty old books that fascinated me for some reason. I would trudge through the posts which were always well written but sometimes I wondered why they were written. Certainly only a crusty old man would read such dusty old books alone as he was in the mountains of Southern California.

Then the author began to also post some photographs of his beautiful surroundings. I was further hooked. And I also began to post some comments here and there as I began to understand more and more of what he was posting about. I loved the photography and some of you may know that LightHusband is also a photographer (who supplies me with the photographs for this blog :D).

Pretty soon, though, I discovered that the author was NOT a crusty old man, but a lively young guy and younger than me! At first I was embarrassed. But then I realized that no one knew what I had been thinking all that time (until now of course). I was by this time really enjoying his writing and discovered that he was an author for real and not just a blog author. I tried to lure him out by linking to him in a couple of memes, but he was determined to remain quiet and in the backwater. I wanted more people to know about him and his writing because it is winsome and good, and above all I’ve learned so much from reading him.

Patrick draws from such a variety of sources when he writes that it is always refreshing and new. He uses modern (and by that I am referring to the era, not the method of thinking) writers, Reformation writers, Medieval writers and early Christian writers and he’ll use them all in the same piece. He is unafraid of history which makes for very holistic pieces.

So when Patrick announced that he had a book coming out this fall, I was thrilled. I was excited for him personally. After all, now I actually *know* an author. Someone who has a book which is published. That is thrilling in and of itself. I was excited for him because I know that it’s something he’s been working on. But I was selfishly glad for me too. A whole “Patrick Oden” book to read.

Here’s the thing … I know we’re not “supposed” to do this, but it seems that Patrick is drawn to many of the same spiritual streams that I am drawn to … Celtic Christianity, finding God in nature, reading about Him throughout history and the like. This is likely why I find Dual Ravens (as his blog is now known) so compelling. So when Patrick announced, “It’s A Dance: Moving With The Holy Spirit.” I was pretty thrilled and thought, “Dang. November 1 is a long way away.”

Then he invited me to read a pre-publication copy of the book. So I am one of the lucky few to be able to read this book *before* November 1. And, it is everything I hoped it would be. Tomorrow … a review of It’s A Dance, by Patrick Oden.

This is kinda funny … and if only my hair were really green. O wait … it could be!

(ht Kay)

It seemed like it might be a good time to have a lighter post.

Over at relevantblog, Mary asked: Quick: What were you doing ten, twenty and thirty years ago? … But I read about it at the center holds when Sherri asked the same question … and it’s intriguing to think about. So …

What were you doing ten, twenty and thirty years ago? Here’s what I was doing …

Ten Years Ago – (October 1997) LightGirl was three and LightBoy was 6 months + old. I was at my wits end with him. It’s pretty likely that he was screaming and I was crying. He was the world’s most miserable baby. I remember looking at him at about this point in his life and I told him that I was really mad at him for being so miserable because he was the last baby I was going to have. He stopped screaming every waking moment the instant he learned how to crawl. He’s been a happy guy ever since then. Those first 9 months were exceedingly difficult.

Twenty Years Ago – (October 1987) LightHusband and I had been married about two months and we were just moving into house in Arlington, Virginia with a housemate. All the wedding gifts meant we’d outgrown our apartment (also in Arlington) and we hated apartment living anyway. We loved that house; it had an enormous backyard, but it was at the end of a deadend street and we sometimes witnessed drug deals taking place across the street from our front porch. Our neighbors were a group house of people about our age and so we had a community garden with them. And we sometimes had joint parties and other joint activities between the houses. It was a blast.

Thirty Years Ago – (October 1977) I had just started my junior year of highschool. It would be the last year I was on the gymnastics team and the last year I was on the softball team. I was probably fretting about the PSATs. And not fretting about my grades. My father was chairman of the schoolboard. I was on the advanced track in math and science. I babysat to earn spending money. I did a lot of babysitting. The going rate was $0.75 per hour. On a really good night I’d earn $5.00.

Now -October 2007- I’m a homeschooling mom, managing a hockey team and cheering two hockey players, who does some art quilting on the side. Life certainly is strange.

So … here’s what Mary says for instructions …

It’s an experiment to see how many degrees we can separate (kind of like Kevin Bacon, only it’s relevantblog). Even if you’re not tagged, don’t be crabby, just take up the baton and run with it. Here’s what I ask: Have folks post their 10-20-30s, and then link back to the Mother Ship (www.relevantblog.blogspot.com) or write a comment here, saying where you heard about this experiment and sharing where you blog. This isn’t to build my empire, it’s to find out how far we can expand the blogosphere. After all this talk about blog tours, it got me thinking. How many people can one blog potentially reach?

Mary tagged people and told anyone to play. Sherri just told anyone to play along. I think I’m going tag some people and say that if you’ve read this far you’re also tagged … let me know that you played in comments. Let’s see how far this can go!!

Doug, Patrick, Julie, Erin, Che, and Paul

I’ve kept reminding myself to breath these last couple of days. Just breath. Just breath.

Smaug rolled again yesterday and snorted. He did it in the most unlikely of places too. Caught me completely unaware. I hate when that happens. I was happily reading blog posts and sipping my morning coffee. When Googlereader flashed a new post from Bro. M. entitled “Stockholm Syndrome.” “Ohhh … sure to be good,” I thought.  And just clicked on through.

I’d really recommend reading the whole post and comments for yourself. I know I always do that. You’re probably tired of it. I do that for a number of reasons. Primarily, I do it because words are a dicey form of communication. I interpret them slightly differently than you. So, you’ll read that post a little bit differently than I do … because your context is different from mine. Second, I’m sure to have missed some important point or other … so please go point that out to me. I always need the help. I can synopsize here … but you’re really better off reading it for yourself. Especially the comments, which are also good.

I spent the better part of yesterday and now this morning stewing over that post. It hit me hard. I don’t know if it was between the eyes or in the solar plexus. In either case, I spun away dizzy and hurt. Churning and emotionally stunned. It wasn’t that Bro. M. wrote anything particularly hurtful. It was that what he wrote stirred up the waters of a pond I have just recently brought to still. I tried several times throughout the day to write a coherent comment at his place and couldn’t. So, I’m writing here. In between breathing and taping the trim and painting.

Bro. M. likened some of the experiences in church and spiritual abuse to the experience that some kidnap victims have that is known as Stockholm Syndrome. “Stockholm syndrome is a psychological response sometimes seen in an abducted hostage, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger (or at least risk) in which the hostage has been placed.”

I’m not certain that I agree with Bro. M. that Stockholm Syndrome adequately describes the effect or the relationship between the parties in the relationship when spiritual abuse or bullying happens. I think that there are some aspects of it that are present. But here is where I think there is a significant difference between victims who are under the influence of Stockholm Syndrome and victims of spiritual abuse. Victims who are influenced by Stockholm Syndrome eventually come to realize that the things that they feared while under the influence of their kidnapper/protagonist were unreal, unreasonable and/or illegitimate fears. They were (in a word) made up, in many cases, by the kidnapper in order to hold sway over the victim.

Victims of spiritual abuse never have that realization. Their worst fears are all realized. They lose. They lose their friends. They lose their spiritual family. They lose their source of spiritual support. They lose everything. I can count on one hand the number of friends I have. One. There is hardly anyone to pray for me and mine in the brick and mortar world. We are alone. And it is lonely here. This walk is painful and dry and hungry. On my good days, I know that God is here. On my bad days (and they are frequent) even God is absent.

In January of 2006 I had a nervous breakdown that involved panic attacks and depression. My panic revolved around an unreasonable fear I had that people (policemen mostly) were going to accuse me of something I hadn’t done and the courts would not believe my testimony or any evidence I gave on my own behalf. I was fortunate to have a good counselor and psychiatrist who working together brought me out of that state in relatively short order. I learned how to deal with those fears and strange thoughts. The brain is an interesting organ. But imagine my dismay when it turned out to be some horrible foreshadowing. In January 2007 the people making the unfounded accusations were not the police, but some of my closest friends and no one would believe my testimony or any of the evidence I gave on my own behalf.

I’m no spring chicken. I’ve been around for a while now. One of the things that I’ve been involved with for a long, long time is the process of peace. Redemption. Reconciliation. Mediation. I first heard about it when I worked with the Neighborhood Justice Project to fulfill my community service requirement in college. This was a group that was devoted to mediating disputes between landlords and tenants in the town where I went to college. I heard about it next when I was interning for Senator Stafford. One of his assistants was involved in an initiative that would eventually become The Network of Peace and Conflict Studies at George Mason University. Both of those examples date back to the very early 1980’s and I could go on. My personal history is rife with such examples. I’m dipping into the deep past to say that I’ve been immersed in the issues of peace, redemption and reconciliation for a very long time and it pre-dates my journey with Jesus by a number of years. I know how to mediate and I know the cost involved in reconciliation. I’ve done both … and it’s painful. It’s hard. I am never good at it. I’m not certain anyone is.

So this morning I read this post at Jonathan Brink’s blog about the Mark Driscoll kerfuffle. I’m going to quote some of what he wrote. Not because I think MD has anything to do with this issue, but because Jonathan said some significant things about the process of reconciliation (or not) and redemption (or not) that we all highjack:

All of this makes me realize there might have been a deeper wisdom to Jesus inviting us to, “Turn the other cheek.” How many times have we read that verse assuming it was only our enemy. Maybe Jesus knew we’d need that verse for our own brothers (and sisters) too, for the one’s that hurt us within the church.

The reality is that my brother is going to miss the mark sometimes. But if I go to him in secret, holding his dignity in love, he’ll know I really am his brother. I can listen to why he thinks this or that and say, “Oh I get it…but have you thought about this.” It’s just between the two of us. Jesus knew that love was the only response that worked. In a mission of restoration and reconciliation, I can’t do that if there are blows thrown.

Maybe Jesus knew that the moment someone strikes us is the moment we are being invited to destroy ourselves by striking back or running away. When someone hit us was actually the most defining moment of our lives. It was in this moment that life was demanding an answer to who we really are. Are we really the children of a living God?

See … going to a brother in secret? Well, one sort of supposes that that conversation is kept in confidence. That is when redemption and reconciliation is possible. On the other hand, sometimes those conversations are used as artillery. When one discovers that the conversations have not been kept in confidence, but have been twisted and maimed; taken out of context and given to others. Then one is stuck between a rock and a hard place. I absolutely loved what Jonathan had to say … it’s beautiful and right and good and true. However, if you find that the brother or sister you’ve gone to is not trustworthy or is not playing the same game that you are. There is nothing else to do, but walk away. There is no reconciliation possible. You may over time forgive that person. But until they are ready to reconcile and play on an even field, redemption of the relationship cannot work.

And so I also found myself at odds with Bill Kinnon (it was a strange day indeed). He riffed on Bro. M.’s post writing about the responsibilities of the congregation under such brutal leadership. He said in part:

But there are congregations throughout the world that are, for want of a better word, stupid. For, as Forrest Gump is wont to say, “Stupid is as stupid does.”

Rather than exhibiting the power of collective intelligence*, they reflect the swamp of collective stupidity. Their senior pastors operate like potentates with management skills worthy of inclusion in Bob Sutton’s book or possibly one of Robert Hare’s – whilst these so-called leaders are busy self-identifying as Level 5 leaders. Yet the pew people stay loyal followers.

Sorry, Bill, I need to part ways with you on this. I don’t believe in collective stupidity. I do, however, believe in a state of collective fear. Or should I say … pack behavior. We are, after all, dogs. Or, in the words of Handel, sheep. No one wants to be excluded from the pack (herd). May I refer you to my (not so wonderful) post on the topic? The people in a church know exactly what happens to those who step out of line. The leadership make sure of it.

I was emotionally raped in front of my team by my leadership in my own livingroom. They did it on purpose. Guess who are their most ardent followers now? Those who saw up close and personal how savage the leaders could be. They know exactly what will happen if they step out of line. They know exactly when, where and how they will be outcast.

Those things are unspoken in any social construct. Every social entity has a gatekeeper. That gatekeeper lets people in and out. Is the keeper of the pack so to speak. That person is also the keeper of the unwritten and unspoken rules of that social entity. People will go to great lengths to keep that person happy without being aware of what they are doing … without that person even being aware of their own position in the group. People know what they have to do in order to “make” it in a group and so they do those things in order to get along and stay part of the herd. Because the root desire of most people’s heart is to belong. They want to belong to the larger group.

So, I don’t believe it is collective stupidity that drives people to suspend their good judgment in order to continue to belong to unhealthy groups/churches. I don’t believe it is Stockholm Syndrome. I don’t know what it is. I think there are some parts that want to continue doing and being what and where God calls us to be. We want to be part of the solution, not part of the problem. And most of all, nobody wants this … this long walk in a desert. Nobody chooses this. It’s much too hard, too lonely, and people will do almost anything to put it off. I know I did.

“… The brain is scattered on the ground.”He added: “I am shaking as I am trying to describe to you what happened. We are not able to eat. These were innocent people. Is it so natural for them to shoot innocent people?”  from The Washington Post two days ago.

I have restrained myself for months.  But I’m going to say it now.

I predicted this.  I said this was going to happen.  I said this from the very beginning.  I do not relish this at. all.  But I got into more than one argument over whether or not there were WMDs in Iraq.  There were not.  Or whether or not Al Qaeda was in Iraq.  It wasn’t.  Vindication does nothing now.  Because now Al Qaeda IS in Iraq.  We have created that which we feared.  And *that* is what I predicted.

Bigger, stronger, and harsher is not going to win this war.  If we do not learn that lesson quickly we will be trapped in that quagmire for decades on end.  Smarter, kinder, more loving is going to win the day.  Bullies never win and apparently they never learn either.

Our new bed arrived. It’s beautiful … as may be seen in the photo below. Of course, I think it’s enhanced by my “We Can Learn Alot From Geese” quilt that is gracing it. For those of you who like such things, that quilt is made with all pre-1900 reproduction fabrics. The greens are a so-called poison green which I love. The blocks came to me from a block exchange in the summer of 2005. I belong to a loosely defined group called the Historical Block Society. We make and exchange quilt blocks. That summer we made flying geese blocks that just about killed us. I asked for blocks that were set with poison greens. Others asked for blocks in blues, or reds, or yellows, etc. Everyone in the group looked askance when I asked for poison green. But now they all agree that I have the most striking quilt. Hah! It’s what you get for thinking outside the box.

So, Julie, I did clean our bathroom (before I read your comment and likely at a similar time as you 😉 ). It had also been … well … also a long, long time (I don’t want to think about how long). And it feels good to have a clean bedroom and bathroom again. Sherri, I think you’re right about being in the middle. I think I’m going to be in the middle for a long time … because now I/we are about to paint the bedroom and the family room (in no particular order) and I spent a good deal of yesterday ordering blinds for the masterbedroom, guestroom, and family room and fabric for new curtains in the family room. And Cindy, there must be something to your theory as well about home makeovers and grieving being similar. I wonder if we don’t grieve the old as we’re bringing about the new?

I did also get to spend a good deal of time yesterday with a good book … Patrick 😀

I’ve been honored to be a pre-publication recipient of Patrick Oden’s It’s A Dance. So I’ve been reading that lately. It’s really quite good … which is not a surprise to me, because I’m familiar with Patrick’s writing through his blog. Yet it is a surprise. It’s A Dance dips, sways and sashays through scripture and novel and textbook … not really one or the other and yet somehow all three. I’m not nearly finished yet, so I won’t do a proper review … but it’s quite good and I heartily suggest that you put in your pre-order now! I think it’s available here and here.

The LightKids have been on their own this week and it hasn’t been good. We need to get back into a learning routine, which will involve they and me cleaning out the school room. On the other hand, some learning takes place even when school is not in session … for instance:

Science sometimes happens out on the deck … when nature shows up.  In this case a praying mantis came calling.  LightBoy obliged and explored.  He tried eating and feeding the praying mantis.  I’ll leave you to determine which was more successful.

I don’t know.

The grand living room project won’t get finished. It made me angry at about the sixth coat of red. And I got tired. So now it’s waiting for the trim to be painted. I need to finish it.

The whole house is in shambles. It feels as though the monsters got out from under the beds and had a rumpus like the one in Where The Wild Things Are.

LightHusband’s parents, siblings and families are coming for Thanksgiving (40 some odd days from now). And the house is in shambles … rumpused, as it were.

Worse than that, I am rumpused. I am torn and lost and tattered by the events of the past year. Grief continues to assail me at the worst possible times. Smaug is generally quiet. I can do all the things a functioning adult is supposed to do. But I am sad and tired.

Every so often the thought of sneaking into the back of a church for a service crosses one of our minds. It would be good to be amongst the faithful again for a little while. But I cannot bear the rape of my soul that goes along with it.

So the droughth continues.

… or how Christians have gotten it wrong lately.

I was tagged by Julie (who was tagged by the eminent Bro. M.) in a new meme, based upon the book, unChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity… and Why It Matters. For some good thinking on the book and the meme, you should go to Bro.M’s post … he’s very thorough. Much more so than I.

Here is the gist of it … as few as 10 years ago Christianity had a good name. Now, not so much. For the meme we are to list three negatives of the Christian religion that is all too prevalent and then 1 positive of the faith that we wish were more abundant.

Negatives …

Christians are cherry-pickers. They pick and choose which parts of the Bible they’re going to pay attention to on any given day of the week. Ferinstance, they’re all for the right to life. When it’s in the womb. Once you’re out and breathing though, by god, you’d better take care of yourself. Welfare is for slackers and lie-a-beds. You want to kill all the killers too. Nuke the towelheads. The death penalty is our God-given right. There are consequences to sin and you’d better be prepared to pay ’em in this life and in the next.

Christians are always right and Right. Jesus is a Republican. Or he would be if were here today. Your salvation is in question if you vote Democrat. No lie. Christians should be involved in politics as long as those politics are conservative … make that reactionary. And you should always have an answer that is right, as in correct. Be able to answer every question, even those that are never asked. When you’re always right, no one can ever question you. Nice place to be, yeah? No conversation there …

Christians like to live in ivory towers, closeted away from the stains of the world. They listen to “Godly” music. They raise “Godly” children. They have “Godly” chatchkes. They have “Godly” friends. Their children marry “Godly” spouses. Can someone tell me what that means? Everything is carefully controlled and contrived. They have Harvest parties so their children won’t be tainted by Halloween … but it all looks the same, it just has a different name. We’re just fooling ourselves.

Here’s what I think … I think the three things I mentioned above stem from one thing. Fear. And Jesus came to set us free from fear. So here’s what I wish I would see in the Christian faith more abundantly … freedom.

I would love to see Christians living freely. Giving freely. Living with open hands in a closed fisted world. I would love to see those of us follow Jesus living in His freedom … smiling, laughing, dancing, giving, loving, and living openly, honestly. Being who we are without masks. Being Jesus to a frightened world. Imagine that for a moment. What a wonderful world it would be …

I’d love to hear the thoughts of Bill Kinnon, Erin Word, David Fisher, and Kay Paris on this subject.

Yesterday was hockey, hockey and more hockey.

Lightboy had practice from 7:20 to 8:50 a.m. at our home rink. Meanwhile LightGirl had a game that she needed to be at by 9:40 that was almost 2 hours away. Her team was playing a team that was 2 years older, but they had alluded to the fact that they would bench their older players and play some younger developmental players for this game.

I may have mentioned here that CoachWonderWoman is about the only woman coach that we face, she is certainly the only woman coach in our club. Her coaching style is different from the teams which we face each week. I’m never certain if this is her personal style or if it is in part based upon her gender. Yesterday, I discovered that at least some of the difference is gender.

I may have mentioned that this year I am the team manager for LightGirl’s hockey team. I’m enjoying this role thus far. It doesn’t require too much of me and I get to do some different things that I sorta like. One thing that I’m ambivalent about is that I see more e-mail traffic about scheduling games than the average parent. I don’t know that I need to see this traffic, but I do. In the case of the game we played this past Sunday, it was alluded to by the opposing coach that he would pull back his older, more experienced players for this (non-league) game. It would be a chance for both teams to get some competitive experience without the pressure of league play. All was good.

Our team is significantly smaller (in terms of numbers) than the other team. We had 10 or 11 players there and they had at least 15. This means that we only had 2 full lines and they had at least three. They were able to rotate more players on the ice than we could. I saw a bunch of their players before hand. Now … remember I’ve spent significant years in youth ministry. I know how girls faces and bodies mature. Many of these girls were not under 14. There were at least 5 of them who were nearly capable of driving themselves to the rink.

But … their coach was restrained. For the first two periods. He mixed things up and kept his less mature players on the ice with the more mature players. He did this for a long time. Until it became apparent that doing this might cost him the game.

Then.

All bets were off. He put his best players on a line together and kept them out on the ice for a good long while. His rastafarian hat that one of his players had dared him to wear, came off. He paced the bench. Things looked bleak for our team. But, CoachWonderWoman and AssistantCoachSuperMan never shifted gears. They continued in the same vein and told our girls to keep their wits about them and do their best. It turned out that their best was indeed good enough. They won the game!! 8 to 7. And one of those goals belonged to LightGirl.

It got me thinking, though, about the differences between men and women. Men and women process these sorts of things very differently. They *see* the playing field differently. Men have a deep-seated need to win … at all costs. To women it’s more important to play the game well and fairly AND win. How we play the game is at least as important as winning. Men seem to find winning the sole factor in the game.

I pulled back a little further and now I’m thinking about how this plays out in our culture and more importantly in church. In our male dominated culture and especially the male dominated church, where gamesmanship and winning become the goal of an institution (even when it’s unstated and underground) I think that is how we have come to have these huge megachurches and ministries that “win” more souls than the church around the corner each week.

This is why it’s so important to have both men and women equally involved in leadership … in church and in life.  It’s not just winning.  It’s how you play the game.