Living the Vision - a proposed spiritual community in N. Michigan

Well, I finally did it. I took the plunge, jumped off the cliff, took the proverbial leap of faith. I have resigned my position at the Presbyterian Church after 7 challenging years, and am setting out to found a new kind of Christian community right here in Northern Michigan. It’s not going to be a church, nor will it have any denominational affiliation or support. What it is, more than anything else, is an experiment, an experiment in community, in being connected to others, to the earth, and to the Creator in some ways I’ve always wanted to try.

Throughout my career as a pastor/theologian/teacher/writer/musician, I’ve identified seven principles that make sense to me for how a group of people might go about living in the way that Jesus lived. I make no claim of originality when it comes to these principles. In fact, I’ve visited other alternative communities who embody some of these principles already. What may be original, however, is my forthcoming attempt to set up a community that, from its beginning, seeks to faithfully live out all seven of these principles.

The first principle I think will be essential for thriving spiritual communities in the years to come is an open approach to theology. Most religious communities operate out of a closed theological system. They’ve already decided what “right belief” is and they form their community around those commonly held beliefs. But some emerging communities are learning to unite around their friendship and their common quest or search rather than some proscribed destination. I want to be a part of a community that, while it is rooted in the person and work of Jesus, is still trying to understand larger truths and is still respecting the Mystery that lies beyond even our best human language and our most time-tested religious constructs. I want to be involved in a community that asks questions – tough questions – but doesn't seek uniformity on the answers. I want to be a part of a seeking spiritual community that has rediscovered humility and has no real interest in having it all figured out where God and creation are concerned. I want to read and study the Christian New Testament and the teachings of Jesus alongside the Koran and the Hebrew Scriptures, the Gita, and the Upanishads. I want respectful, mutually edifying dialogue with folks from other religions. Would anyone care to join me?

Second, I want to live a life that is compelling to others. I want my life to speak so that my words don’t have to. This is what Jesus did, as far as I can tell. Sure he preached and taught, but the only reason huge crowds would listen to him is that he lived a life that challenged the lives of others. He lived a life of simplicity, service, compassion, and self-sacrifice, a life that made others think about and alter their own lives. People chose to become Jesus’ disciples, and a disciple, as Dallas Willard says, is an apprentice, someone who wants to be with the master in order to become like him/her. I want to be a part of a community of disciples, people who together are trying to actually do the stuff that Jesus did. There are plenty of churches and communities that get together to talk about and discuss the things that Jesus did. What I’m seeking is a group of folks who will help each other LIVE like Jesus lived. Would you care to join me?

Next, I want the rest of my life to be filled with adventure and risk. I have lived a very conventional life, going to the right schools, getting the right jobs on the path to success. And I’ve done all this while trying to live a “good, Christian life.” But there have been times when I’ve sat in my church and wondered if somewhere along the line I – and a whole lot of other people – had somehow confused Christianity with politeness and good manners. Since when did “nice” become the best word to describe Jesus? Did the people who followed him back in the day concern themselves most with manners and with not rocking the boat? It seems to me that Jesus and those who hung out with him were huge risk takers – leaving their homes and families, going out on small boats in big storms, taking journeys with no extra clothes and no money, entering lands that their religion told them to avoid, gathering with the very people society despised and rejected. As Kate Layzer wrote in a recent Christian Century article, “It’s not a tame Jesus that people are craving. They want the genuine undomesticated Savior, the One who loves fiercely and speaks sharply, who looks us in the eye and speaks of God’s uncompromising love, who startles us with more forgiveness than we think we deserve, who challenges us to extend the same to others. They want the Jesus who commands us to love enemies, serve the poor and see ourselves in the stranger.” That’s the Jesus I want too, and his way is the way I want to live. But the problem is, on my own I can be a real wimp. I need a community of risk-takers to nudge me along and challenge me to step outside my comfort zone more frequently. I’m not talking about bungee jumping or sky-diving here; I’m talking about welcoming strangers into my home, spending time with prisoners, aids patients, and lonely widows. I’m talking about caring for creation, lessening my environmental footprint, and integrating my spiritual life with the life I live every single day. I’m talking about living with the unpredictable spontaneity of Jesus, and I need some other folks around me who are seeking to do the same thing. Anyone interested in joining me?

Fourth, I’m ready to be a part of a community that truly is open to all. Countless communities say that they want this or that they already are open to all, but my experience tells me that most every religious community excludes somebody, whether intentionally or unintentionally. I had the chance during my recent sabbatical to visit a community called Glide in San Francisco, and my week there was an overwhelming experience of being with a totally inclusive community. Everyone was welcome at Glide, and I mean everyone. Even at their Sunday worship celebrations there were homeless people, addicted people (including addicts who are still using and, in some cases, under the influence right then and there!) gay, lesbian, straight, bisexual, transgender people, black, white, yellow, brown, and red people, and everybody else - Glide welcomed all of them. I was changed by my week at Glide, stretched by my time there. I felt more alive there than I have felt in years. I couldn’t get over the fact that the homeless from the Tenderloin district felt comfortable enough to hang out in and around the Glide facility day or night, seven days a week. I couldn’t help thinking, “this is as it should be in a community that claims to serve Jesus.” Now I know that Northern Michigan isn’t exactly San Francisco when it comes to cultural, ethnic, and religious diversity. But I still want to find out what it would look like for a community to welcome and include anyone and everyone at its events and gatherings. I’m especially excited about having theological discussions where no viewpoint or religious perspective is shunned or considered inferior. Would you care to join me?

Fifth, I have been waiting a long time to be a part of an organization that exists not for itself but for others. One of the things I loved my Presbyterian heritage is that its constitution says, “The church is called to undertake Christ's mission even at the risk of losing its life.” What I take this to mean is that Christian communities are supposed to do the things Jesus did, even and especially when doing so could bring about their own demise. The problem is, I have yet to see a church, Presbyterian or otherwise, that is truly willing to live up to that high calling. Most of the decisions I saw the churches I was a part of make started with the question “can we afford to do this?” From there, deliberations turned to the all-important church budget, where the non-negotiables of building expenses, endowment fund balances, and personnel expenses were bowed to. In the end, the work that Jesus did, that “mission” the Presbyterian Constitution spoke of, was lucky to get the leftovers of a congregation's money and energy. What I'm curious to find out is what might happen if a spiritual community had no building expenses or personnel costs…ever? What if the only money and energy that ever changed hands in a community of disciples was going outside the community toward people in genuine need? Principles six and seven will address this more concretely, but for now, I simply invite you to consider what it could look like and feel like to be a part of a community that, from the outset, existed for the benefit of others. As my friend Doug Pagitt, the founding pastor of Solomon's Porch, puts it, “We only exist to bless the world. When we’re no longer doing that, there’s no point to our existence.” Would you care to join me in forming a community that will exist for others?

My sixth principle is that I want the community I'm a part of to avoid the real estate business at all costs. Buildings have become the tail wagging the dog of well-intentioned Christian communities for centuries. The average church budget in this country puts the vast majority of its dollars into paying for, maintaining, and improving its building. Obviously, this makes it very difficult for that community to have much left to do the things Jesus wanted done. Biblically speaking, the earliest followers of Jesus never had a building in which to worship or gather. For three hundred years they made due with homes, public gathering places, and beaches. I see no reason why Christ-followers today can’t do the same, particularly when we have free, available meeting places like the top of Boyne Highlands, Petoskey State Park, Thornswift, Church Beach, and the trails in the Bay View woods right here in our own backyard. And speaking of our own backyard, my family and I live on four acres of farmland that we're preparing to farm. We’d like this land to be used as one dimension of this new community. Perhaps we could offer it as a cooperative farm for folks not yet involved in one, and we could focus on generating fresh produce that could go to area food pantries. Who knows, maybe we could bring in a couple dozen chickens, some goats, and a pig or two. It just seems that our faith ought to affect the way we use land and the way we produce, consume, and recycle. The world doesn't need another building that's only used once or twice a week. So we're excited to see all the creative ways this community will come up with for using existing resources in a way that the Creator would appreciate. Would you care to join us?

Seventh and finally, I've gradually come to believe that pastors and leaders of Christian communities should no longer be paid by the communities we serve. Don’t get me wrong: getting paid is nice. I’ve made decent money serving traditional churches for years and the pension plan wasn’t too shabby either. But every year at budget time, when I would look at our church budget and see the huge percentage of church offerings that were going to my salary and benefits – not to mention the salaries and benefits of my fellow staff – I felt like I was keeping the community from doing the things Jesus asked his disciples to do. At the time I left my most recent church, 93% of its budget was going toward nothing but building and personnel costs! And this was an extremely generous and missional congregation. They raised thousands of dollars outside the budget to do wonderful things for others. But even so, budgets are moral documents, as Jim Wallis of Sojourners has so often said. So I want to try leading a community without ever taking a dime from the participants. I would like to experiment by becoming what used to be called tentmaking, making my living by some other means than my ministry with a community. The Apostle Paul literally made tents to earn his living. I will probably do a mix of part-time things ranging from music gigs to teaching and painting. I will also continue to write, speak, and lead retreats.

If you put principles six and seven together, you’ll see that the community I’m proposing will have no overhead. Participants will never be asked to pony up for a building or for my living expenses. If any money changes hands, it will either be because of the community’s decision to support someone or something outside of ourselves, or to contribute to our cooperative farming operation, much of which will serve local food banks. What all this also means is that numbers will never be important to this community. If only four families want to come on board to help live out this vision, that’s just fine. We won’t have some number of participants we’re shooting for to help pay the mortgage or my salary. We’re not going to spend a single cent on advertising either. If our lives and our community's story don’t compel others to join us, then why should some slick advertising campaign?

So there you have it – the broad strokes of my vision for a new kind of spiritual community in Northern Michigan. I’m not promising utopia, and I’m definitely not promising some perfected form of church. This community will be a very different animal with its own unique struggles and hurdles, not to mention its share of difficult decisions along the way. Let's remember that the kingdom Jesus talked about with his disciples was supposed to be built right here on earth, little by little, by ordinary people. It was a messy enterprise too. The Kingdom of God was so hard for folks to get their minds around that Jesus had to use parables just to try and describe it.

I’m so excited about getting this experiment in community going! All I need are some people who want to give this a try with me, people willing to roll up their sleeves, get a little dirty, take some risks together, and see what happens.Who knows - we might be starting something that could become a model for spiritual communities everywhere! Why not get in on the ground floor and grow with us?

If you’re wondering when we’ll meet or what we’ll do, those are things that the people who take this leap with me will figure out as we go. Maybe that’s why I’ve been calling this project “The Living Vision.” It’s a living, breathing, evolving experiment in community based on a clear and compelling vision that God has placed upon my heart. If my vision happens to resonate with your soul and spirit, stay tuned to this blog and leave me your comments. I look forward to continuing this conversation.

Grace & Peace – Toby Jones