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One of the interesting things about meeting in a coffee house is that we occasionally have people walk in during our gathering looking to buy a cup of coffee. Star Co. is usually closed on Sundays and the sign out front says so, but when people are walking down the street and see a room full of people drinking coffee, they make assumptions and come on in.

This has to be an odd experience for them. Imagine walking into your favorite coffee house and immediately having four or five people turn and greet you and say “We’re glad you’re here.” The look on their face usually tells us whether they’ve come for Cafe Fulcrum or for a cup of coffee. Some, when they learn they’ve stepped into an “event,” turn around and leave. Others, brave the awkward friendliness and step to the counter and place their order. One guy was standing at the counter and people kept chatting him up and finally he said, “I’m just here to get a latte for my wife.” We offered him a free breakfast taco to go with it.

It bothers me that we’re putting people in an awkward situation. (As an introvert, one of my personal core values is to avoid public embarrassment whenever possible.) We’re trying to address it with some additional signage that explains what we’re doing while inviting them to come on in an join us anyway. On the other hand, this is also one of the reasons I love having our gathering in a public space–we just never know who is going to walk in.

At the Cafe last Sunday, we had a couple walk into the world’s friendliest coffee house and order something to eat and drink. As they were waiting, they asked the barista what was going on. They also talked to a couple of Fulcrum people. They ended up staying for the entire gathering. They sat at the back and ate their food and drank their coffee and listened to what I had to say. Afterward, I got to meet them and invite them to the next Cafe. I love the idea that they came in for coffee and ended up hanging out with our community for almost an hour.

But that’s not all that happened on Sunday.

Another couple came in and never made it past the mat in front of the door. I was at the mic teaching and they quickly figured out what was going on. They immediately turned around and walked out. As they did, the man said to his companion, “F—ing church!” The guys at the back of the room thought it was hilarious.

This is exactly where our community needs to be: in between the seekers and the cynics. Some walk in for coffee and end up staying awhile. Others walk out cursing us before we can even offer them a free cup of coffee and breakfast taco. I’d like to believe that Jesus and his little band of followers experienced something similar when he was preaching in the marketplace.

By the way, I’ve heard people curse as they walk out of church before, but it’s usually after they hear my sermon, not before.

Yesterday we had a meeting of the team that is working to launch the Fulcrum Community. This a group of dedicated individuals and families who have committed to doing the necessary work to gather a new community of faith in the North Austin/Round Rock area. I love these people and I thank God for them every day.

As we were evaluating what we’ve been doing over the past few months, the consensus was that Cafe Fulcrum is the best thing we’ve done so far. We’ve had three of them, all of them at Star Co. Coffee, a coffee house in downtown Round Rock. The idea behind Cafe Fulcrum is to create a middle space kind of environment that is bigger than a small group, but smaller and more informal than a large group worship gathering. It’s a combination of food, live music, and short teachings about how the Fulcrum Community fits into God’s dream for the world.

It was initially designed to be a mixer. We invited all of our friends and contacts with the hope they’d come and meet each other and get more information about what Fulcrum is all about. Each one has gone really well. We’ve had new people join us every time and we’ve had people come back more than once. Both of these are huge wins for us. We’ve also had a few people who come to the Cafe end up in a Home Group, our weekly groups that meet in homes. Another win.

We’ve had people attend who have been going to a church most of their lives and we’ve had people join us who’ve never been a part of an organized community of faith. We’ve even got a few who are burned out on church as we know it, but still love Jesus and long for some spiritual community. The feedback from all of these different groups has been overwhelmingly positive. They are enjoying exploring spiritual issues and hearing more about the Kingdom of God without the formality of walking into a church building and sitting through a church service. As one person put it, “it’s not stuffy and preachy.” The emphasis at Cafe Fulcrum is definitely on building relationships, rather than putting on a “church show.” (I’m in no way throwing rocks at church buildings or services. I’m reporting the feedback I’m getting from people who aren’t in the habit of going to church services in church buildings or who are trying to get out of the habit of doing so.)

We’re discovering there is something wonderfully natural about walking into a coffee house on a Sunday morning, grabbing a cup of coffee and a breakfast taco, and connecting with others who are searching for something “more” in life.

After about 15 or 20 minutes of conversation, someone begins to play some music. The first time it was local artist, Grace Pettis. The last two times it’s been our new teammate, Patrick Jones. At the last Cafe, Patrick did an amazing job of transitioning us into a moment of worship when he invited us to sing with him a song he wrote. Turns out it was a song about God and we sang it together and it was worship. It was simple and beautiful and it gave me a vision of what Cafe Fulcrum can become. I got up after Patrick and did my best to summarize the storyline of the Bible in less than 15 minutes.

We’re going to do another Cafe this Sunday. I expect there to be hints of worship and glimpses of God’s glory in Star Co. when we gather. We’ll eat some food and meet some new people. Patrick will invite us to join him in singing some God songs. I’ll talk about Jesus. Only Gods knows what will happen after that.

I love it, and I hope God does too.

Come check it out if you’re in the area.

As the Cowboy game was finishing up on Sunday, I got an email from a friend I haven’t heard from in a while.

The subject line said: Ouch. In the body he wrote, “Reality hurts. Go Vikes.”

I immediately responded with, “This is an unacceptable email drop in. We haven’t been communicating regularly enough for you to send me the equivalent of a one ring rub in.” 

I don’t mind my friends busting my chops when my team loses if they’ve been a part of the conversation beforehand. Had we exchanged even one syllable of pre-game banter, then I’d have welcomed his email as a twisted display of friendship. But what he did was not appropriate, especially since I know that he has little interest in pro football and has no favorite team that he publicly supports. Which means there is no way I can send him a similar email in the future when his teams crashes and burns. He’s not playing fair.

He responded with, “Happy events make me think of you.  Anything bad happening to the Cowboys is a happy event indeed. ‘Unacceptable email drop in’ has a Bill Simmons like sound to it.  I like it…”

Which brings me to the point of this post. It was no surprise that my friend told me I sounded like Simmons. For the past two months I’ve been plowing through his latest volume, The Book of Basketball. At over 700 pages, this is by far the longest book I’ve read since I worked through Wright’s book on the Resurrection of Jesus.

Now that I think of it, both books have a lot in common. Like Wright, Simmons provides persuasive argumentation for the unprovable. I mean, how can you prove beyond a shadow of doubt that the 86 Celtics are the greatest team of all time? You can’t, but Simmons does his best to take away whatever objections you might might have and in the end you can’t dismiss the probability that he’s right (I agree with him by the way).

Both Wright and Simmons drop footnotes like crazy. Simmons’ footnotes are funnier than Wright’s though. Here’s my favorite:

Pete Maravich holds the white guy record for points (68); Jerry Lucas for rebounds (40); Mark Eaton for blocks (14); Dirk Nowitski/John Stockton for steals (9); and Dan Majerle/Rex Chapman for threes (9). Peja Stojakovic had 10 threes in a game but I don’t count the Euros as true white guys. Just a personal thing with me.

(Don’t buy this book and try to read it on a Kindle. They can be hard to track down on a Kindle and the footnotes alone are worth the price of the book.)

Both Wright and Simmons can dig into the minutia of a topic and pick it apart for pages. I don’t care how much time you’ve spent thinking about basketball, Simmons has spent more. You may think you know a lot about the game, but Simmons knows more. He proves it page after page after page after page. If you’ve read his column, then you know how long-winded he can be as he goes on quirky asides and throws around creative pop-culture references.  This book is like that times two.

Speaking of asides, I told my friend who sent me the email that I’d send him my copy of the book now that I’m done with it. Ever since his major breach of chop-busting etiquette on Sunday, I’m thinking about sending it “first class postage due.” With a book this size that will amount to a double digit fine.

Seems about right.

I remember preaching a New Year’s sermon to a group of beaten down people when I was in my mid-twenties. I started off by asking how many of them had made at least one resolution for the new year. I was unprepared for the lackluster response. Only a few hands went up. I thought that maybe the rest were just being shy so I pressed them a bit, but quickly found out that they hadn’t made any resolutions. I remember thinking how sad it was to see people give up on changing something about their lives.

Now that I’m a decade older I think I understand why most of them had stopped making resolutions. Experience had taught them that 99% of New Year’s resolutions “don’t mean nothing” come February. After awhile, we get tired of setting ourselves up for disappointment and failure. It’s easier to resolve to do nothing new or different than it is to make a commitment and then wind up with the same results as those who made no resolutions at all.

Most resolutions fail because they’re actually more wishes than commitments. A resolution without a clearly defined goal that is supported with a realistic strategy, and empowered by an encouraging community is nothing more than an opportunity to be disappointed in yourself. If you’re not willing to do the strategic work behind the resolution then don’t torture yourself by making yet another list of wishes that have no chance of coming true.

Over the last decade, I’ve made my share of dead-end resolutions and I’ve let a few January’s come and go without setting any goals for myself. I’ve found myself stuck in a moment that I can’t get out of more times than I’m comfortable admitting. I shudder to think that at times I’ve been well on my way to being one of those who has simply given up and resigned myself to living the life that is, rather than the life that could be.

That’s why before I made any resolutions this year, I had to make a declaration: I don’t ever want to believe that change is impossible. I don’t ever want to be the kind of person who looks at some area of mediocrity in my life and decides that this is as good as it’s going to get. I always want to believe that things can get better, that I can be better, that I don’t have to be stuck where I am.

Change is possible!

I believe this.

What about you?

Here’s an advent post from several years ago. Seems appropriate to bring it back to the top of the pile.

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Psalm 13:1-2 (NIV)

How long O Lord?

It’s a gut-wrenching question that keeps turning up throughout the Scriptures, if not always explicitly, at least in spirit.

It’s the cry of Abraham and Sarah as they wait for 25 years for the child God has promised them.

It’s the cry of Israel in Egypt after Pharoah turns the people into slaves and forces them to chomp down on the bitter dust of oppression.

It’s the cry of Israel during the time of the Judges as they are pestered by the Philistines.

It’s the cry of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1 as she sits at the tabernacle, brokenhearted because she is childless while her husband’s other wife is more fertile than the Amazon rain forest.

How long O Lord?

It’s a question of desperation, a cry of frustration, a plea to a God who has made a promise to be faithful. It’s asked by those who have reached their breaking point and can’t stand it any longer.

In the Scriptures, God repeatedly answers the question “How long O Lord?” by taking action at just the right moment. Usually this action is somehow related to the birth of a special baby who will grow up to do special things.

A child named Isaac is born to Abraham and Sarah. He’s living proof that God keeps his promises.

A child named Moses is born in Egypt. He’ll lead his people out of bondage.

A child named Samson is born in Israel. From his enemies he’ll take no sass, he’ll whip the Philistines with the jawbone of an . . .(nevermind).

A child named Samuel is born to Hannah. He’ll grow up to be a mighty prophet of God and a maker and breaker of kings.

One of the great tragedies of the holiday season is that we get so caught up in what has been dubbed by some as “McChristmas”–a rushed, commercialized, mutation of the Christmas celebration-that we forget that Jesus was God’s answer to the question “How Long O Lord?”

For Centuries, Israel had been waiting for God to fully deliver them from their exile and to restore them to glory. How long would God allow their land to be occupied by pagan idol-worshippers whose king was named Caesar, instead of Messiah?

At precisely the right moment God took action. I love the way Paul puts it in Galatians 4:4-5:

But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children. (NLT)

God had been preparing his people for this moment for centuries, when the time was right, He entered history as Jesus of Nazerath, the Christ, and in doing so addressed all the evils that had inspired or would ever inspire the question “How long O Lord?”

As we look forward to the coming of Christ, let us look around and name the evil we see and let us pray, “How long O Lord?”

In Matthew 6: 31-34 Jesus says, “So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Jesus puts his credibility, and our faith, on the line with this teaching. For many of us, it’s easier to trust Jesus with our future resurrection than with our daily bread. Here, what Jesus says is so practical, so everyday, that he forces us to decide whether or not we really believe he knows what he’s talking about.

Is this really the way the world works? If so, then how does God go about dispensing food, drink, and clothes to those who have made his kingdom a number one priority?

When we read this teaching as individuals, it seems impossible. But if we read it as a community, a group of people gathering around Jesus, then maybe it’s not so unrealistic.

Could it be that the reason Jesus is able to makes such a bold promise is that he expects his followers to take care of each other in their time of need? Could one of the benefits of being a part of a community of faith be that we no longer have to worry about the things loners do?

In uncertain economic times like these, could members of a community of faith say to each other, “Don’t worry about losing your job. Don’t worry about going hungry. Don’t worry about keeping your kids in warm clothes this winter. We will take care of you in your time of need.

Maybe Jesus is right. If we’re seeking first the kingdom of God, which includes living in community with others, then what do we have to worry about?

In my last post, I listed two principles that are at work behind the scenes as we launch Fulcrum. I’m not claiming these are high-minded or theologically sound. I’m just saying they’re a part of the conversation. Unless a person has a strong gift for cross-cultural missionary work, they will probably always be a part of the conversation.

I think it’s important that I help start a community of faith of which I want to be a part (See, I can write this out in a grammatically correct fashion). Why? Because in the last nine months I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that if I weren’t a professional minister, I would have a hard time being a part of most churches.

If I weren’t the guy who gets to stand up each week and talk for 30 minutes, I don’t know that I would “go to church” very often. I’ve never really liked church very much. If God hadn’t called me to preach and given me the gift of teaching, I’m not sure how involved in church life I’d be.

In so many ways, I’m a typical guy who would rather stay up late on Saturday night, sleep in on Sunday mornings, and then ease into my Sunday football watching chair and stay there all day long. It’s never been my ambition to be on a committee of any kind. Small groups are hard for me. It’s probably the social environment in which I’m least comfortable, unless I’m the leader of the group, then I’m ok because I feel in control of my environment. (I have issues. I know this. My wife knows this. Now you know this.)

So when I say I want to help start a church that I want to be a part of, I’m not saying that I want to start a church that only a preacher would want to be a part of. Rather, I want to start a church that I would want to be a part of even if I weren’t a preacher. What would such a church look like?  Well, here are three things that are important to me:

1. I want to be challenged intellectually. I want to have my comfortable assumptions poked and prodded. I want to be surprised, even unsettled, by a new insight. I want to have a strong reaction to what I’m hearing so that I’m either inspired to run through a brick wall for the cause or go back and rethink what I thought I already knew. I want to hear hot-button issues addressed in a way that incites discussion and deeper learning. I want to see the God revealed in scripture from every imaginable angle. I want  to have my worldview broadened. I want to be encouraged to put my doubts out on the table. I want to be a part of a church that lets me love God with my mind, all of it, not just the parts that already agree with what is being said. I never, ever want to leave a teaching session feeling ambivalent about what I just heard.

2. I want to experience a deep kind of community with a small group of people whom I believe will have my back in all situations. I’m not looking for a bunch of shallow friendships. I want to draw close to a handful of people and share my life with them. I want to know them and I want them to know me. I want us to work on some big projects together that are just as likely to fail as succeed. I want us to take big risks together. I want to know that if something happens to me, I don’t have to worry about who will be there for my family. I want to have a few guys on speed dial that I can call at 3 AM when my life has just fallen apart. I want to have a few friends in my life who will tell me the truth, no matter what. I want to be a part of a church that facilitates the formation of these kind of relationships.

3. I want to see tangible personal transformation in myself and others that both serves as a witness to outsiders and encourages insiders to keep following Jesus down the path. I like to set goals and achieve them. When I’m not working toward a tangible goal, I tend to flounder. That’s why I love crossfit so much. Everything is tangible. How fast did you go? How much did you lift? How much did you improve over your last effort? I want to be a part of a church that measures personal transformation in such a way that we can point to the difference Jesus is making in our lives. I want to be encouraged to set some spiritual goals. I want to be in an environment that encourages me to reach my goals, and questions me when I don’t. I want to be able to point to any number of Christ-followers around me and say to an outsider, “See, this stuff works!”

This is the kind of church I want to be a part of. What about you, would you want to be a part of this kind of church?

In a recent conversation with someone about starting a new church, I articulated two principles that are shaping what we’re doing at Fulcrum. If you’re looking for theological depth or piercing missionary insight, you’ll probably be disappointed.

1. I want to start a church that I’m excited to be a part of. (Larry Osborne gave me this basic principle at a conference earlier this year.)
2. I want to start a church that I’m comfortable inviting my friends to be a part of as well.

These aren’t the only principles shaping our activity of course, but they are an important part of the conversation.

What do you think about these?