All posts written by Joe Boyd

Jesus: The Blind Man?

March 22, 2012 in church, early church, gospel, Jesus, justice, kingdom of god, life change, storytelling, theology, Uncategorized with 2 Comments

This past weekend I was honored to guest speak at Southbrook Christian Church, just south of Dayton. I was assigned the following text from Luke 22:

 63 The men who were guarding Jesus began mocking and beating him. 64 They blindfolded him and demanded, “Prophesy! Who hit you?” 65 And they said many other insulting things to him.

What struck me in the passage was that Jesus was blinded. The one who brought sight to so many loses his own in the end. The one who brought freedom is enslaved. The one who brought dignity to the poor is stripped naked and humiliated. I believe the blinding of Jesus runs concurrent with a theme in the book of Luke. If you are interested in more, you can watch the teaching below.

 

If the embedded video isn’t working with your browser, you can find it here.

Reflections on Stability: Part 2 [Dave Nixon, Guest Blogger]

March 19, 2012 in church, cincinnati, community, culture, gospel, Jesus, kingdom of god, love, passion, stability, storytelling with 3 Comments

This is a guest post as part of an ongoing series from my friend Dave Nixon of Sustainable Faith. You can read his first article here.

Reflections on Stability: Part 2
By Dave Nixon

I don’t remember the exact year this occurred — maybe 1997 or ’98, but maybe it was long enough ago that I can now tell the story without being prosecuted.

A year or so after taking our vow of stability we had a difficult summer. It was exceptionally hot and humid, so without AC, sleeping at night was often hard, but it was made harder by the emergence of a drug house on our corner. Each day the dealers would begin their business in the afternoon and wouldn’t stop until about 4:00 a.m. And because of two facts — our windows were always open for ventilation and the acoustics of the corner made it sound as if their activities were right outside our window — we were subjected to a constant stream of cars, profanity, raucous laughter, shouting, and beer bottles breaking.

We confronted them. We prayed for them. We called the police on them. Through it all nothing changed. Because the dealers had scanners in their apartment, they always knew when the police were on the way. Within seconds the corner would become a ghost town. Then gradually they’d return when the coast was clear.

As the summer dragged on into the swelter of August, I became more and more sleep-deprived and angry. If God and the police wouldn’t do anything, then I sure as hell would! (I think I started occasionally cussing then.)

So one night, after Jody had gone to bed, I reset our alarm for 4:00 a.m., turned the volume way down, placed it near my pillow, and fell asleep like a kid before Christmas. When it rang several hours later I instantly shut it off, slid ever-so-gently out of the bed, and went to the closet where the night before, in addition to my clothes, I had set out a trench coat, a ski cap and some gloves. I put the ensemble on as quietly as possible and slipped out of the room. I then made my way via the back door into the garage where I grabbed a boltcutter, slid it up my sleeve, and then made my way to the corner.

It was sprinkling lightly that night, and I remember the remarkable calm. So still, so very still. Peace had descended over the neighborhood, and I saw no sign of life. And right across from me on the opposing corner, less than 20 yards away, was the supreme object of my attention — the payphone.

The linchpin of the dealers’s operation was this corner payphone. It was how they arranged their meetings. For me it was the motherlode. So without any hesitation I walked directly to it, let the boltcutter slip from my sleeve, grabbed the handles, and in one deft move severed the receiver and cord from the booth. I then wound the cord around the receiver, shoved the bundle into my trenchcoat pocket, pushed the bolt cutter back up my left sleeve, and walked home … via a circuitous route so that in case I was seen, I’d be reported as going in the opposite direction from where I lived. Along the way I threw the receiver into a trash can.

And then I went home and slept. Very well.

The next day, shortly after lunch while I was working in my office, I heard from that corner one of the loudest F-bombs I’ve ever heard. It was from the ringleader. And then I heard it again, and again, and again. Admittedly, an intoxicating thrill of glee shot through me with each outburst. Mission accomplished.

A few days later the phone company replaced the receiver. And a few days later I repeated my crime. A few days later the phone company came again, but this time they removed the payphone.

Fall came, windows closed, the little drug cartel imploded, and life became more bearable.

In one sense it’s a comical story — the vigilante Vineyard pastor dressed up in a trenchcoat and wielding boltcutters in the dead of night. And sometimes in the telling, the story elicits, I suspect, a certain admiration — how daring he was!

But here’s the real truth: I was no different inside than, say, the zealot who shoots the abortion doctor. Whatever makes a person like that snap made me snap. I was “righteously pissed,” was fed up with waiting on God, and had by that time lost the capacity to engage the enemy in a communal, creative, forceful yet loving way.

The vow of stability had been “for better or worse,” but it became clear to me in the wake of my petty crime that I only wanted better … and that I was capable of doing things I never imagined in order to get there.

I was a long way from doing my work patiently and hopefully, and because these two things were lacking, I was unable to do my work faithfully and lovingly. But choosing to stay put for nearly two decades, and doing this as a kind of spiritual exercise, has been changing both me and our community of faith. Our hope is that we can in time learn to be present, faithful and loving in the days we are given, not those we imagine having, even if those days feel difficult, trivial and hidden.

Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; do not fret when people succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. (Psalm 37.7)

The Real St. Patrick

March 16, 2012 in church, early church, evangelism, gospel, prayer, storytelling with 0 Comments

In case you have any desire to know who you are drinking green beer in honor of tomorrow…

Around 405 A.D. the 16-year old grandson of a priest in Wales was kidnapped by foreign raiders. The boy, by his own admission, was not interested in God or religion at any level until that day. Stolen from his family, he was forced into herding sheep in Ireland – a culture far from his own. It was in these six years of slavery and solitude that Patrick called out to the God of his father and grandfather. God has always had a thing for shepherds. We are all, after all, like sheep going astray until he finds us. He found Patrick in Ireland.

At 22, according to his own letters, in his prayers he began to hear God say that he would soon return home. Then one night he clearly heard, “leave for a ship is waiting for you.” On that night he escaped and began a journey of 200 miles to a port where he boarded a ship for Britain.

Upon his return home, Patrick never felt at home. In a dream he saw a man named Victorious from Ireland pleading with him to “come and walk among us.”

So he left for Ireland.

The slave returning to set others free. The freedman enslaving himself to Christ. The shepherd seeking his lost sheep.

If we look closely into history, Patrick wasn’t the first Christian missionary to Ireland. But he sparked something. He ushered in a communal grace-centered expression of Christianity that swept through the culture like wildfire. He probably didn’t drive out snakes or teach life lessons with shamrocks, but he did something more significant.

He loved his enemies.

So much so that he is remembered today as one of them.

Patrick died 1,551 years ago tomorrow – on March 17, 461.

That is the day the church (and pent-up Americans looking for an excuse to party) celebrate his life.

It’s probably one worth celebrating.

Cheers.

Reflections on Stability: Part 1 [Dave Nixon, Guest Blogger]

March 12, 2012 in cincinnati, gospel, Jesus, kingdom of god, love, meaning, prayer, progressive christianity, stability, vineyard with 4 Comments

Dave Nixon has a loud voice in my life. A fact that is ironic because he’s never actually very loud. We are wired similarly, but whenever I meet with him I can’t help but think (on my worst days) that he is a far better version of me. Or (on my good days) that he is simply years ahead of me on the journey. Either way, there is no more trusted voice in my life.

Dave Nixon of Sustainable Faith

At our last lunch, I asked Dave to consider writing a series as a guest blogger here. As he normally does, he took his time to think about it. I’m happy to say that he accepted. Dave and his wife Jody live, what I would call, a protestant urban monastic lifestyle in Norwood, Ohio – just outside of Cincinnati. He is a spiritual director. (My spiritual director when I actually remember to show up and learn from him.) He is the director of Sustainable Faith and fosters spiritual retreats for leaders and pastors in his home, a re-converted Catholic convent house.

I’m proud to present Dave’s first guest post in his series called Reflections on Stability:

It was the middle of the night and cold outside when I woke up from a dead sleep to the sound of someone shouting outside and banging loudly on something. “Am I hearing what I think I’m hearing?” I stumbled to the second floor window of our bedroom and peered through the window to see if I could spot the source of noise. I couldn’t, but the lamentation and pounding persisted, so I opened the window to hear it better. “Yo bitch! Let me in! You know I love ya! Yo bitch, c’mon, let me in! You know I love you! C’mon bitch, don’t do this to me! I love you!” Across the street, pounding on the front door of a house, was a young man who had apparently been cast into outer darkness for some infraction against his dear bitch. All he could do was wail, beat on the door, and offer up terms of endearment to show his remorse. I was thinking to myself, “Seriously? I don’t know what world he lives in, but in mine there are no women who come running into a guy’s arms at the word ‘bitch.’ “ I simply couldn’t wrap my brain around it. “Should I go give him a short lesson in etiquette, offer a little coaching?” I figured at the time it probably wouldn’t help, and besides, I don’t think I could have pulled it off without a smirk. So I went back to bed.

Almost seventeen years ago my wife and I took a vow of stability. Together we decided to bind ourselves for the remainder of our lives to a particular place and to a life within that place. We would live and work in our neighborhood (Norwood, Ohio) until the day we died. This wasn’t a decision we made lightly. For me in particular, it was a sobering choice, but we made it gladly and were confident that God had guided us toward it, so we embraced the invitation, come what may.

Despite our decidedly non-Catholic upbringing and complete unfamiliarity with monastic life, we weren’t total strangers to vows. After all, we’d been married for nearly 21 years at the time. Without the promises which we’d made to each other, the vows we had exchanged “in the presence of God and many witnesses,” neither of us think we would’ve made it through some very dark times. There are many truths about wedlock, but one that you can bank on is that the person you think you’re marrying will be very unlike the person sleeping next to you years down the road. (That’s why there’s all that “for better or worse” stuff.) And if there was one thing we’ve learned about life, it’s that it rarely turns out as you imagine it will. So on the front end of this decision we were necessarily clueless.

But who ever knows? No one, really. In the end, we’re all completely ignorant of what’s around the corner. Completely. So a vow of stability was the proverbial but real step of faith. We hoped for better, for richer, for health, but what if worse, poorer and sickness came? If the neighborhood tanked economically and socially, turning over time into a crime-ridden hell-hole that threatened our safety and sanity, our prior vow would still mean staying. If it turned into some sterile, polite, gentrified repository of upper-middle class American values — God spare us all! — we’d still be rooted there. If it slowly blended with the near exclusively black neighborhood just to the south and, as a consequence, the aging white population fled to keep one step ahead, well, there we’d be — visually very distinct.

Within days we began sharing this with our young, emerging church, telling them, “You might leave, but we won’t. For us there are no longer any greener pastures. If we’re going to see the kingdom of God come, for us it will be here or nowhere else.”

What I’d like to share with you in this and the next few posts are a few of the outcomes of our decision, ways in which it has challenged, shaped and surprised us.

One of deepest invitations to us has been to learn about a world very different from one we would have chosen for ourselves. Jody and I grew up in upper middle class homes where decorum, propriety, looking good, and self-improvement were all the rage. If our lives had gone the normal route, we would’ve ended up surrounded by people just like us. I’m convinced we would have ended our days staring in the mirror, seeing nothing more than our own reflections.

The thing that struck me most about the incident mentioned above was that this young guy, unlike me, had no apparent shame. He was “acting out” in public. Who does this sort of thing? (Of course, maybe he was three sheets to the wind and had lost all inhibitions.) But maybe a better way of seeing it is that he actually felt deep remorse and was expressing it demonstratively in the only language he knew to someone he loved . (He just needed a little help.)

In Christian circles we talk a lot about God and the need for relational transparency, about “being who we really are,” taking off masks, etc. Here it often seems that people don’t talk much about God but they have no problem being exactly who they are, even when it’s not flattering. A part of me thinks that’s because they’ve already lost so much in life that the thought of putting up a front would just appear a silly gesture. I on the other hand still care far too much about my image, believing that I have lots to lose. My neighbors can teach me in this respect. But without a vow of stability, we would’ve run away a long time ago and kept our first and false impressions of those around us, who are a gift to us as much as anything else.

Learn more about Dave’s work at www.sustainablefaith.com. 

5 Lessons From The Kony 2012 Movement

March 9, 2012 in culture, filmmaking, independent films, justice, kingdom of god, leadership, meaning, passion, progressive christianity, technology, Twitter with 1 Comment

#konysurrender

Yesterday’s post on Kony 2012 was my most-viewed post ever in ten years of blogging. It speaks to the current interest generated on the topic.

As a follow-up, here are 5 lessons I have learned reflecting on the movement.

1. Most People Want a Better World.

In a jaded, cynical, fatalistic society it is sometimes easy to forget that almost all of us want a better world. All religions, races, nationalities, sexual preferences, generations – we want to see children protected and evil-doers silenced. Sure, we are all also selfish with personal agendas. Sure a few of us are evil psychopaths. But most all of us at least want to be better.

2. Most People Want to Be Told What To Do.

I believe one of the most positive things about Kony 2012 is that it gives simple, direct instructions as to how to join the movement. Someone has taken the time to propose a plan that will make Kony famous. Most videos that attempt to raise awareness are 95% inspiration. This one spends a huge amount of time explaining the plan, why it will work, and how to join it. Generally people already know how to feel about this sort of thing, we just don’t know what to do.

3. Most People Want to Be Invited Into Something.

If Invisible Children had not already had a community rallied around this cause, the video wouldn’t have worked. I don’t think you can start a movement with a video. But you can spark a committed, attractive, causal community into a movement with one. That’s what happened. The video was a perfectly timed catalyst to expand something that was already defined and working.

4. Seeing Real Change Usually Means Living in the Gray.

I still don’t understand enough to know all of the issues surrounding the governmental agencies (foreign and domestic) that will benefit from this effort. I am sure of one thing – they will be corrupt. Both foreign and domestic. I have yet to see any form of government that is not corrupted at some level. Of course, some are worse that others. The Ugandan military seems like a rather corrupt system. This is always a tension in geo-politics. Most Americans favored partnering with Pakistan to find Bin Laden, for instance. That’s kind of like befriending Darth Vader to capture the Emperor. It’s worth it, but just barely. This feels similar in many ways.

5. Begin With the End in Mind.

My team is currently in the very early stages of brainstorming a similar movie-tied-to-mission project. Seeing the negative reactions these guys have endured, I would never make a movie like this through a non-profit organization. Fund the movie through a for-profit company – and fund the mission through a non-profit. They got a ton of grief for only using 32% of the donated funds for boots-on-the-ground work. Imagine if they were a for-profit and gave 32% of their income away. That would have generated the exact opposite reaction. Now, I don’t know if that business model would have allowed them to raise the money they needed to do what they have done. But that’s a personal lesson I have taken from this for our next project.

#konysurrender

Is Kony 2012 a Good Thing? A Christian Response.

March 8, 2012 in creativity, filmmaking, gospel, Jesus, justice, kingdom of god, love, movies, passion, prayer, progressive christianity, storytelling, technology with 12 Comments

If you’ve been on Facebook or Twitter over the last 24 hours, you have probably seen people talking about the efforts to stop Joseph Kony from the organization called Invisible Children.

Here’s my response after watching the 30-minute film.

Let me start as a filmmaker. It’s an amazing piece of art. Propaganda maybe…but the best kind of propaganda there can be. For those who say the media of film and video can’t actually change the world, this will prove them wrong. This little movie will change national and international policy – and likely bring a tyrant to justice. It is always dangerous to overstate things, but I think this movie is no flash in the pan. It will make it into the history books.

Now as a Christian. The Kingdom come must include justice. Nothing is closer to God’s heart and Jesus’ mission than rescuing the powerless from the hands of oppressors. I have no idea if the filmmakers are Christians, and it really doesn’t matter to me. The passion of their call to action smells of Kingdom come. For that reason, I love it.

The backlash? Shortly after going viral yesterday, the organization behind the video received criticism.

Largely on two fronts:

1.) A perceived lack of integrity with their finances, with many noting that just over 30% of the donations go directly to help those in need. Read the company’s latest financial report here.

2.) The company’s support of the Ugandan military which has a questionable human rights history. Read an article here.

In response to these criticisms, Invisible Children released this statement today.

So, what are we to do? I propose the following:

1. Watch the movie.

It’s a masterpiece regardless of where you land in the end.

2. Do something.

If we trust the filmmaker, that is his ultimate goal – to move you to action. Resolve in this moment that you will do something to come to the aid of children in the world who are being oppressed.

3. Research Invisible Children.

Do your own homework. If you feel comfortable, support them.

4. Donate.

If you are not comfortable with Invisible Children, you can still donate to others who can help. I currently support both Compassion International and Destiny Rescue.

5. Pray for Invisible Children.

If you elect to not support the Kony 2012 movement, you can still pray for justice to be done through their efforts. If nothing else, they have pulled our attention away from ourselves this week. That’s a miracle itself these days.

For me, I hope the movement keeps growing.

And that Joseph Kony is stopped.

5 Questions to Ask Before Saying “Yes” to a New Idea

March 6, 2012 in acting, creativity, culture, leadership, life change, meaning, passion, storytelling with 2 Comments

I love new ideas.

Nothing is beter. They are like crack for my soul.

Historically, the problem for me has been seeing a new idea through to conclusion.

The main reason I do not finish a new idea is because I stumble upon a newer, shinier idea.

As I age, I am getting better at evaluating opportunities. I still love new ideas, but now I’m learning to not abandon them for other ideas in process. I’ve done this by asking some intentional evaluative questions.

Here are five questions I ask when I encounter a new idea:

1. Is this new idea consistent with my story?

The older I get, the more clear my purpose becomes. I want to partner with others to tell stories that put a dent in the universe. Some new ideas sound fun, but they don’t help me get there. I may still indulge in a new idea that is “off mission,” but with the realization that it probably won’t last when more important ideas come around. It’s the conceptional equivalent of a one-night stand.

2. Can this new idea be absorbed into a current idea?

Some new ideas fit perfectly into something I am already doing or dreaming about. If a new idea fits into a current idea it jumps way up the list of possibilites for me. At that point it is less of a new idea and more of an answer to prayer.

3. Will I be frustrated if this idea is wildly successful?

I have learned to say no to new ideas that only seem interesting if they aren’t successful. A good example is that I recently turned down an audition for a series regular role on a TV series. I would have gladly read for a guest starring role in this show, but if I had gotten a regular role it would have disrupted everything good in my life now. It would have been a massive distraction.

4. Who do I know who could better serve this idea than me?

I used to think, “Who do I know who can help me do this idea?”

Now I think more about gifting the idea to someone who can bring it to life with my help. Usually both of us end up a lot happier this way.

5. Will I regret not doing this idea?

The projection of a future state of regret is a defining factor in how I make decisions. It is a problem if I look into my future and know that I will constantly be asking, “Why didn’t I pursue that idea?”  I would have regretted not moving to Vegas, L.A. or Cincinnati. Those were big, scary new ideas. But I had to do them. I’ve written about regret before. It’s a big deal to me to minimize regrets in my life.

St. Valentine, Geico Cavemen and General Hospital?

March 2, 2012 in blogging, culture, gospel, Jesus, religion with 0 Comments

In case you missed them, here are the five most popular articles from my blog in the month of February.

1. The Real St. Valentine Exposed.

2. Confessions of a Post-Modern Narrative Christian.

3. Meet the Geico Caveman.

4. 5 Lessons of a Soap Opera Actor.

5. King Jesus Gospel Book Club: Week One.

Follow your dreams? What if you can’t even find them?

March 1, 2012 in acting, creativity, culture, life change, meaning, passion, storytelling, writing with 5 Comments

Sometimes our dreams and desires are set aside. There are often good, reasonable grown-up reasons for this. Maybe you get married or have a baby and things need re-prioritized. Maybe a crisis occurs and it’s all-hands-on-deck to just survive and get well. Maybe our dreams are just not working for us and we need free from them for a bit.

I'm still infatuated with Banksy

All of these have been true for me. But…a real dream never dies. It just gets buried under the stuff of life. There comes a time – as the marriage settles in, the baby grows, the crisis abates – when you will try to remember where you left that dream. It won’t be there. Like the victim of an Arabian sandstorm it will be covered up with the dust and dirt of life. You may not even remember where you left…or what the dream even was. Unless you start digging.

Here are five exercises to recover dreams long forgotten. The first time I did this, I remembered dreams that I had as far back as eight years old! They had been buried a long time. So take 15 minutes now and write down the answers to these questions. Don’t over-think them – just write.

1. List five hobbies that sound fun.

2. List five classes that sound fun.

3. List five things you would never personally do that sound fun.

4. List five things you used to enjoy doing.

5. List five silly things you would like to try once.

I first made these lists in my journal in 2003. Back then, 0ne of the things I would never do that sounded fun (#3) was, “move to Los Angeles and pursue acting.”

I was doing that thing I would never do about 18 months after writing it down.

The great thing about this exercise is that it stands alone. You don’t have to trail it with a list of action items and strategies to meet your goals. Because these aren’t goals – at least not yet. These are dreams. If you uncover something that really is a buried dream, you won’t be able to lose it again. It will find a way into your life. And it might even sneak onto your to-do list someday soon.

*I first discovered these five questions in The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron.

Do Movies Matter?

February 28, 2012 in acting, filmmaking, life change, meaning, movies, rebel pilgrim productions, storytelling, television with 3 Comments

On the heels of The Academy Awards, I am struck as a filmmaker by a question I often ask myself.

Can a movie change someone?

I’m not sure.

Most movies certainly have an agenda. You’ve seen Avatar, right?

But how much does the agenda of a movie actually equate to action in a person?

I think of The Blind Side. A lot of people liked it. Sandy Bullock won the Academy Award. (I met her 8 years ago. She asked me to call her Sandy…so, yeah, we’re pretty tight. We just haven’t talked since the day we met. To be fair, she’s been busy.)

The movie was entertaining, but I wonder if The Blind Side actually inspired anyone to foster a kid? Surely it did for someone…

I have this theory that the most a movie can do is spark something inside of us that is already there, but has been pushed down or ignored. A good story can jar a person out of  his or her normal thinking just long enough to make the decision to pursue a change.

I wonder if this has ever happened to you?

Has a movie or TV show ever sparked you to take some sort of meaningful action?

If so, I’d love to hear that story.

We’d like our movies to provide space for that to happen, even if it is only for a few people.

Page 3 of 98«12345»102030...Last »
%d bloggers like this: