This blog will no longer be a blog in a few days, but don’t fret. The action has simply moved over to
CreativeTheology.com
Head over there, meet my daughter, and join the party.
Of course I am sure there will be plenty of proud dad moments on the blog, but the topic of discussion will revolve around…
We are entering the last few days before our baby is due to come on the scene. I’m going to be taking the next week or so to step away and unplug. When I return, it will be to formally announce CreativeTheology.com and way more importantly, Baby Mahlstadt!
In the mean time, if you have any parenting advice, or well wishes for Baby and Mom, I’d love for you to leave them in the comments section. Be well and see you soon!
Sam
The other day I wrote a brief post highlighting some great collaborative projects, and my desire for the church to pick up the need for artistic collaboration among creatives.
The producer generation has limitless connections, and it seems like six degrees of separation has become more like two or three with the networks of Facebook, Twitter, and the like. This generation values and understands the necessity of collaboration. We have a deep desire for community, and the humble (although many times this gets overshadowed by insecurity) sense that we can’t do it alone.
If the church can embrace and empower artistic collaboration as a new generation explores past the boundaries the previous generation placed on our faith, the possibilities are endless.
Our faith will take on new dimensions, our understanding of God will be stretched and deepened and our communities will become stronger. Even our Bibles will embrace a more holistic view of the faith that would have seemed heretical in the previous generation.
You can sample The Voice by downloading the Gospel of John, here.
I often write about the church and how it intersects with the culture in which we live. Part of that is disgruntled, frustrated responses to how the church is missing it.
Allow me to make a few personal comments:
At times, I may write about topics from a seemingly annoyed or impatient place. That’s because I believe in the potential of the church, and I hate to see it wasted away fussing over things that don’t carry eternal weight.
At times, I may seem to flippantly disregard traditions of the faith. That’s because if it is a dead tradition, I believe we should move on. There are certain traditions of the faith that come through mandates – such as communion and baptism – but the others that surfaced through what worked hundreds (or even 10) years ago need to be treated as such.
I desire to be a voice that spurs on the saints of this generation. I desire to stand on the shoulders of those who have come before me, and keep my eyes forward, sensitive to what God is doing now. I want to join in the work of the Spirit, and that requires growth, movement and a decision that I won’t settle (but also not neglect) what I know, where I’ve been and what I am comfortable with.
I don’t want to be a hater. I want to be a catalyst.
If we think about the storyline of our faith it is relatively easy to see our place in the falling action of the epic.
The falling action often serves to tie up loose ends, and provide the author a way to close any unresolved or unresolvable issues. All too often, the falling action is where a story slips away from the reader, coasting to a stop devoid of much impact. The falling action of a story can quite simply kill the entire book if not done well. It can lessen the impact of the protagonist, it can create emotional distance between the story and the reader and it can cause you to feel as though you’ve wasted your time.
I love these online networks that embrace community and encourage progress. I pray we learn how to do this in the Church, as a new generation is creating and producing incredible work.
Mine is actually a bi-vocation. I would love to write books that stretch and deepen people’s understanding of God, while leading a local faith community (not sure what that part looks like yet).
I can’t be any more excited to announce the death of this blog. While it may seem strange, I truly feel that this blog must die in order to make room for what’s ahead. And what’s ahead just so happens to be CreativeTheology.com. If you have been reading this blog for long, you’ve seen the progression of my content (hopefully) and a sharper focus on issues of faith and creativity. A blog subtitle just wasn’t cutting it, so with the help of Samwell Creative, you will soon get to see the brand new CreativeTheology.com.
In the mean time, there are a few things you can do:
Head over and sign up for the RSS FEED or sign up to receive blogs posts through email. You’ll never miss a thing. Once you’ve done that, feel free to tell all your friends :)
I’m the American Church, and I suffer from a fear of commitment. Don’t get me wrong, there are some days where a part of me wants to follow in the footsteps of the Rabbi with everything I’ve got. But most days, I react like a ragged and confused Peter, standing over a fire, weighing my options.
It’s easier to just get caught up in programming, and projects and productions. It’s not easy to catch the eye of Jesus as the cock crows for the final time. I certainly don’t deny the Christ as Peter did, but I do one worse; profess with my mouth and bear no fruit.
It all stems from my deep fear of commitment. I have a hard time loosening my grip on my things. My money, my time, my doctrine, my dogma. It’s all too comfortable to give up, even when I feel like that’s the only option left.
But please don’t give up on me, because there are moments of glory. Moments when I gaze into the heavens, moments when I share my bread and moments when I trust whole-heartedly. I’m trying to sort this out, asking questions I haven’t been allowed to ask for generations.
Don’t give up on me yet. I have fears and shortcomings and dark parts in my heart, but I cling to a great Hope. I believe a great promise. I worship a great king.
I read a great article on the tendency to get selfish (and ineffective) when the going gets rough from MSNBC Business.
Here is the bottom line: when you turn inward, whether in glory or defeat, the team suffers. Always. There is no room for selfishness on a team. I’d even go as far as to say that a team with selfish members (or even one member ) can be successful outwardly, and all the while, the team is crumbling internally.It’s not sustainable.
And how about selfishness when it comes to the personal victories and defeats of people of faith? When we turn inward, rather than recognize the One who spoke this whole thing into being, things can get pretty ugly, pretty fast. The tendency to focus on ourselves creates distance between ourselves and the one who desires to dwell amongst us.
Just a reminder: This isn’t about you. Lift your eyes, friends.