NECPAC

Playing the Spoons and Personal Branding

2011-01-09T18:38:00.000-08:00

Identity theft happens to as many as 10 million Americans a year, but I think there is a more insidious crime that is committed by many more Americans each day. Thanks to the accessibility of social media platforms which empower us to create our own "personal branding" for everything from our careers to our social lives, we have the ability to create whatever identity we want - the only limit is our imagination and creativity. There is no verification that the information we're presenting to the world is authentic. We can become whoever we want in this on-line universe.

While I am a fan and user of Facebook and I tweet everyday on Twitter, (Why don't they call it twittering? Is tweeting the plural of twittering?) I wonder if we're losing sight of something important to our humanity, important to our own personal integrity.

My grandfather was a tall, strong, stereotypical New England Yankee. He was a man of few words. With nothing beyond a highschool diploma, he provided wonderfully for his family. He could track a deer, play the spoons, and he loved babies. He was authentic. As a child, I learned to read his often stoic face as different individuals would stop by to talk with him. He had little patience for "chatterboxes" as he would call them. My grandfather measured a man not by his words, but by his life.

When I think of the leaders who have influenced me the most, I realize that one thing they all had in common was they were authentic, they were real, they were true to themselves and to their own ideologies. I know they were authentic because I interacted with them...in real life...not just on tweets and blogs and status posts. I saw them when life was good and I watched how they responded when life was hard and unfair.

I have also known leaders whose lives were so far from the identity they presented in public, and on facebook and in their blogs and in their books. Perhaps the greatest crime is when we lose the ability to discern authenticity not only in others, but more importantly, in ourselves. Inauthentic leadership is damaging and wounding to everyone it touches.

So, today, I am going to spend more time in real, face to face conversations. I am going to try to listen more than I talk. I am going to try my best to be sure that whatever "personal brand" I create on-line, it is genuine. I can guarantee it won't be perfect; but the best I can offer is that it will be real, it will be authentic and hopefully it will encourage someone else to do the same.

Sticks & Stones: The Church & Divorce

2011-01-06T05:11:00.000-08:00

Her cheek lay pressed into the cool, dampness of the dirt. Their angry threats and insults were drowned out by the panicked beating of her own heart. She could barely breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, every muscle tensed, waiting...waiting for the pain...waiting for her own death. Then his voice cut through the angry mob. He spoke with a quiet authority she had never heard before. The jeers, the insults of the crowd were silenced with one statement from this man. The crowd slowly dispersed, one at a time, each wordlessly dropping their stone of condemnation as they turned and walked away..until it was just the two of them. She was alone with Jesus. Then, as he gently lifted her from the dirt, he said the words she would remember for the rest of her life: "Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more."

Just some random thoughts on a story that is rich with cultural applications and theological implications:

According to Barna Research Group statistics, divorce within the church is just as prevalent as divorce outside the church. The SBC (Southern Baptist Convention) recently garnered favor from the Liberal Left Press for publicly acknowledging their failure to address the pandemic of divorce among its members. Their admission is laudable. However, their response to this hemorraghing of marriages was simply to issue a strongly worded condemnation of divorce.

The last time I checked, condemnation was not high on the list of most effective motivators to stay married. If condemnations were effective, we probably could have wrapped it all up with the Ten Commandments. After 2,000 plus years, I think we can safely infer that condemnation is not the most effective form of mentoring or discipleship.

Perhaps the SBC (and other protestant denominations suffering the same divorce statistics) should start by asking hard questions rather than issuing blanket condemnations. Since statistics also show that two-thirds of the time, divorce is initiated by women, perhaps church leadership should begin by asking women for their insight into this problem. While I realize yet another blanket condemnation, something along the lines of "it all started with Eve" and "this is yet another reason why women shouldn't be allowed in leadership", etc., etc. would perhaps be the easiest response, (and historically, has often been the response) I am holding out hope that the predominantly male church leadership will do more than simply throw a stone of condemnation at the most vulnerable of its members.

Divorce is a tragedy of pandemic proportions that is as contagious inside the church as outside. We can stick our heads in the sand and deny it. We can pick up a stone of condemnation and throw it, or we can stand with Christ and offer compassion, hope and a second chance.

Cracked Pepper, Beef Stroganoff and Breaking The Silence

2011-01-03T19:34:00.000-08:00

His voice was apologetic, almost embarrassed and I had to strain to be sure I was hearing him correctly. I truly thought I must have misunderstood, so I politely asked for clarification: "So, your company helps authors self-publish?" "Yes, that's right." "and that means that basically the author pays for most, if not all, of the publishing costs?" "Yes, that's right." "and, you're telling me that even if I did that, your company would not allow me to self-publish because why?" "Ummm, well, because you are writing about women in ministry and because you are a licensed or ordained minister who is a woman and that contradicts our statement of beliefs."

As I stood in my kitchen, stirring the beef stroganoff, my mind struggled to understand his words - it was all just too surreal. I was being told by a Christian publisher, that because I was a woman, they would not consider a book proposal supporting women in ministry. Neither would they consider book proposals from women who were licensed or ordained - on any subject. As he was stumbling through a half-hearted attempt at explaining his company's doctrinal position, I stood, still stirring my beef stroganoff, and wondering: okay so what types of books, written by Christian women, does that make acceptable? cookbooks? romance novels? children's stories?

He was very kind and even recommended another Christian publisher to me, and so I politely thanked him and quietly hung up the phone (while still stirring my beef stroganoff). That was when two thoughts shot through my mind: 1) Someone should be handing me a medal for self-control and self-restraint right now! 2) I think I just put way too much cracked pepper in the beef stroganoff!

There is a time for silence. Early in the morning, while the rest of the world is still asleep, silence is a hushed and holy companion. There is a time for silence. In the heat of the moment, when tempers are flaring, silence can create the space for understanding and reconciliation. There is a time for silence. When life shattering grief overtakes a friend, our silent embrace is more healing than words trying to make sense of the tragically senseless.

There is a time for silence...and there is a time for the silence to be broken. Oppression can not be defeated by silence. The problem is I did not want to be the one to have to speak. I did not want to be the one who would be labeled and branded. I did not want to be the revolutionary or the martyr. I wanted to write a book, and sip iced tea on the porch in the Summer while having wonderful, intellectual discussions on art and Spirituality in a post-modern culture. I did not want to be the one dismissively labeled as an "angry woman" (as if that invalidates the cause) Has anyone ever righted a grievous wrong who wasn't angry? Jesus in the temple? Martin Luther? Joan of Arc? (sigh) They were all angry at injustice, at oppression, at the malignant manipulation of truth. They all refused to stay silent in spite of the personal cost.

The publisher's "statement of beliefs" condemned me to silence as a woman who believes that God doesn't put limits on our callings and giftings. I could perhaps, live with that, or at least, work around it or walk away from it, but what continued to bother me as I finished making dinner was the thought of my daughter having to live with that, or at some point my granddaughter. What would my keeping silent cost them? That is a price I realized I am not willing to pay.

So...I am breaking the silence. I will not accept oppressive discrimination disguised as theological dogma. I will "speak the truth in love." I will write the truth. I will dance the truth. I will do my best to live the truth. I will pray that the truth will one day shatter the oppression of silence that is holding far too many hostage under the guise of doctrinal dogma.

As we sat down to our beef stroganoff for dinner, I realized that I had put far too much cracked pepper in the sauce. Hmmm, maybe I should call that publisher back? I'm sure he must have some wonderful cookbooks written by Christian women...as long as they're not licensed ministers that is!

The Dance Begins

2010-11-08T05:12:00.001-08:00

When I was 13 years old and wanted to enter a worship dance in a church talent competition, I was told by the church leaders that dancing was "not acceptable." I was forced to choose between my commitment to Christ and my passion for dance.

Today, decades later, I am privileged to see how God is using the arts to usher a culture that has rejected much of evangelical Christianity into the Holy of Holies. The arts, have the power to transcend our cultural and personal biases and prejudices and communicate the awe, the wonder, the majesty, the beauty of a Creator longing to be reunited with His creation.

This was written years ago, but may it encourage any of you who are struggling with the artists compulsion to create, to paint, to dance, to sing, to compose, to write...to not listen to the voices of discouragement, but rather, listen to the "still,small voice" within - the Creator calling His creation to create.

THE DANCE BEGINS

She has danced the dance
that sings of dying
that strips her strength
and leaves her crying

Alone, backstage
with her fears and doubts
she waits for music...
the silence shouts

its empty lies
of failure and doom
hope held prisoner
in a barren womb

The rope is wrapped
around her heart
too paralyzed to try
to dance her part

She cries a
silent symphony
behind the curtain
where no one can see

She tries to drown
the agony
by refusing to let
the dance run free

She sings a song of mediocrity
a boring mold
of monotony

Compromise is
her company -
murder,
in the first degree

But deep within
the depths of her
the dancers song
begins to stir

She struggles to
deny the song
But it floods inside
loud and strong

Suddenly,
the silence is shattered
by the music within
the curtains are opened;
the dance,
begins.

"Make It Dance" : When God Speaks Through Art

2010-05-02T09:59:00.000-07:00

He walked out onto the dimly lit stage in levi jeans and a flannel shirt, without any shoes, just dark wool socks. He said nothing, but simply sat down at the baby grand piano in the center of the stage and stretched his arms out. The audience seemed to be holding a collective breath. There was a pregnant anticipation that lasted until the artist put his fingers on the keys, and the music exploded into our souls, carrying us to a place that only great art and great artists can take us. It wasn't until I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks, that I actually realized I was crying.

That was over 20 years ago, and yet I still vividly remember that experience. The artist was George Winston. The concert was in a performance hall in Northampton, MA. The music was instrumental, there were no words. It wasn't "religious" or "Christian" necessarily and yet it was divine. It cut through all the facades, the justifications, the walls that we typically learn to construct to manage our adult lives and it spoke directly to my heart, to my soul. Great art has the power to move us, to inspire us, to transform us.

I have a phrase that I use when I teach. After a class has been rehearsing and drilling on technique, synchronization, the mechanics that are necessary; I will often turn to the students and say: "Now make it dance" My students have come to learn what this means. I mean now put your heart and soul into it. I mean, now let the dance touch you and show me how it has touched you. I mean, now let God speak through you as you dance.

After all, isn't that the essence of great art? It has to move the artist before it can move the audience. It has to speak to the soul of the dancer, before it can speak to the people watching. How do we make "great art?" It is difficult to define, impossible to fake, and yet unmistakable to recognize.

I remember years ago, when we were rehearsing a piece that was a tribute to the victims of the Holocaust. I had spent weeks of heartbreaking research on the atrocities that were inflicted on innocent men, women and children. I was choreographing a piece with my senior company dancers and I was getting frustrated because they weren't grasping the enormity of what they were dancing. They were chatting and giggling and just being teenagers. I knew they hadn't yet discovered how to make this piece "dance".

So, I told them a story that I had read in my research that haunts me to this day. It was about a young Jewish boy who was executed with his Father. I couldn't hold back the tears as I told the students that their dancing was giving a voice to this little boy who had been so cruelly silenced. We finished choreographing that day holding back the sobs and I don't know if they were ever able to dance it again without tears running down their faces.

It happened again this past Saturday. We were rehearsing a company piece and we were choreographing the story of the Prodigal Son. There were only 3 dancers that I was working with in a room full of over 20 students. The music was instrumental and soft. Yet as I knelt on the dance floor and began choreographing the opening movements of that story - I felt a strange silence fill the room, all chatter stopped, I felt almost a heaviness and I realized as I danced that tears were flowing. We were "making it dance" and God was speaking through the art.

This week, let me encourage you to "make it dance." Refuse to simply go through the motions or put on a performance. Make time to listen to what life, to what God is speaking to you. Allow the music to touch your soul and whatever you do, may it come from that place deep inside of you where "deep calls unto deep." You were created by a master Artist who is calling you to "make it dance" so His love can transform a hurting world.

Basketball and Ballerinas: When You Don't Think You Can

2010-04-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

It was humiliating. It was embarrassing. It was ugly. It was me...trying to play basketball. I tried to tell the college girls basketball coach that just because I was tall, I was not coordinated enough to shoot hoops. He wouldn't be dissuaded. He insisted that since I was tall and I could dance and do gymnastics, then it stood to reason I had to be a potentially good b-ball player...until I showed up at the girls basketball practice. It was funny at first, good natured teasing as I automatically did an arabesque everytime I took a shot. But as the practice wore on, it became painfully obvious - I could not shoot hoops. Not a single shot went in the net. It was pathetic. I think the coach even apologized to me by the end of the night.

Granted, that was not a traumatic, life de-railing experience. Fortunately, my self-esteem, while battered and beaten, was still intact. You see I had told myself all my life that I was not athletic. Sure, I could dance, but I wasn't an athlete and in fact, I was horrible at most sports. That night at practice just proved what I had been telling myself all along - I can't do this.

But recently, a very strange thing happened. I shot ten foul line baskets in a row. Ten. Without missing. It was just a whim; a gorgeous Spring day with a Chuck E Cheese basketball and a hoop that was tied upright with rope to a towering Maple Tree. I was thunderstruck. Incredulous. I was doing what I had told myself (and everyone else) for over two decades I couldn't do. Unbelievable. (For me, at least)

As great as that historic event felt at the time, it also made me wonder: how many wonderful experiences had I robbed myself of because I had told myself "I can't do this." How many limits had I put on myself, on my dreams, on God's plans for me because somewhere inside I had said "I can't do this."

One of my very favorite children's stories is "The Little Engine That Could" I have always loved this story and it's message. It's part of the reason why, as a dance teacher, one of the cardinal rules in NECPAC dance classes is that students are absolutely not allowed to say the words: "I can't do this." A good teacher understands that it takes alot of failures to get to success as a dancer. Whether a student is working on a single pirouette or six fouettes, it is a process and mentally the attitude has to be the same as the Little Engine in the story. Through each failure, each time the move isn't executed correctly, over and over and over - we have to keep telling ourselves: "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can" and all the while we are telling ourselves that, we are picking ourselves back up off the floor and we are doing it again, and again and again. Until one day, we realize, we are doing it! That perfectly executed pirouette, that switch split, those blasted fouette turns - we are doing it!

You see, Jesus especially loved telling people to do things they didn't think they could do. To the man who had been crippled for years he said: "Rise, take up your mat and walk." To his friend who had been lying dead in a tomb for 3 days he said: "Lazarus, come forth!" To his disciple Peter, who had betrayed him 3 times and didn't think he would ever again be counted worthy, he said: "Feed my sheep."

What have you been telling yourself you "can't" do? Perhaps it's time to take a lesson from the "Little Engine that Could." Maybe it's time to quiet that voice that has been saying "I can't do this" and listen for the still, small voice that is saying: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

We serve a great God who has great plans and purposes for your life. Whether it's shooting hoops, mastering fouette turns, or earning a PhD and changing the world - it all starts with trusting the one who loves you unconditionally. It doesn't matter how many times you've failed - don't label yourself a failure. God is calling you to dream great dreams, to live a big life, to make a huge difference in a hurting world.

Do you hear it? I do. It's the echo of millions of voices marching forward..."I think I can, I think I can, I think I can." It's the sound of hope. It's the sound of dreams. It's the sound that will change our world. Join the chorus.

Patience and Pointe Shoes: When Life Doesn't Move Fast Enough

2010-04-20T06:12:00.000-07:00

It was a traumatic experience. I was terrified. I was certain I was going to be lost in the sewer system forever if I wasn't rescued in time. I was three years old and I had...well...I thought I was grown up enough and didn't want to use the training seat...so I had...fallen into...the toilet! I remember screaming for help and my mom running in only to sit down on the floor laughing hysterically at my predicament and toddler trauma!

Humbling story, but true. There are times when life just doesn't move fast enough and we rush ahead trying to do something we're not quite ready for - kind of like the proverbial bull in the china shop and usually with the same results: chaos and devastation!

I see this often as a dance teacher, especially when it comes to students wanting to dance on pointe. It's so hard to say "not yet" to students who ask me if they can go on pointe. But as a dancer and teacher, I know the danger of allowing them to go on pointe before they have developed the muscle strength and control they need. If I let them dance on pointe before they are ready, it can and will create lifelong muscular and skeletal issues and injuries.

We live in a culture where everyone seems to be in a rush. Seven year olds are dressing like teenagers, teenagers are jumping into sexual relationships, adults are rushing through life fueled by Dunkin Donuts drive-thru caffeine shots. A world stuck on fast forward. Yet in the middle of all of this commotion, underneath all of the noise and chaos, a voice is whispering: "Be still and know that I am God" "Wait on the Lord and He will strengthen your heart" (Ps 27:14)

In the original Hebrew, the word for "wait" doesn't mean sitting idly, doing nothing. It has the sense of waiting on the Lord almost the way a waiter or waitress in a restaurant waits on a customer. How can we actually "wait" on God? He doesn't really need anything from us right? I mean, hey - He's God - Creator of the Universe, parting the Red Sea, all that. What could He possibly need from us?

Perhaps, He needs what only we can give - our hearts, our undivided attention, a few quiet moments where we simply focus our thoughts on Him. Some time where we shut off the itunes, close the laptop, turn off the TV, silence the cell phone and simply sit in His presence - quiet and listening. Some time where we stop trying to hurry our lives up and simply listen to what life, to what God may be trying to speak to us.

Last Saturday, after almost three and a half hours of intense dance rehearsals, one of my NECPAC teachers and the company dancers chose to give God some time. In the middle of the frantic race to get pieces "production ready" they chose to slow down and simply "wait" on the Lord by dancing only for Him. I wasn't even there to see it - but I heard about it - I heard about the tears that came as God's presence transformed a basement dance room into the Holy of holies. It was powerful, it was beautiful, it was the presence of God communicating His love to a handful of dancers who took the time to "wait" on Him.

So, thank you Kaitlyn and thank you NECPAC dancers, for reminding me to stop trying to make life move faster and instead; to be still, to listen, to wait on the Lord for what He is speaking to my heart.

Bunheads and Bandaids: When Life Hurts

2010-04-14T14:03:00.000-07:00

She was wearing a pale pink leotard with a chiffon tutu, baggy pink tights and pink ballet shoes. She wrinkled her face and said, "but this hurts!" in her tiny 5 yr old voice as she struggled to touch her nose to her knees.

I smiled as I thought of over 20 years of dance students who had come to realize that pain is a part of the process. As a dancer, you have to learn how to handle pain, in fact the lessons of pain in the dance class often apply to the lessons of pain in our day to day lives.

As I thought about how I handle pain as a dancer (Hey, you are talking to someone who once finished a dance on stage, on pointe with two broken ribs!) (It's a long story - we tried to teach a professional boxer how to be a ballet partner in 3 months) (Yes- boxing is easier than ballet!) I realized the lessons I learned in dance class have served me well in navigating seasons of personal pain in my own life.

1. Expect it - pain is a part of the process of becoming better, of progressing
2. Listen to it - determine whether the pain is potentially injurious or just a sign that you are developing/stretching to new levels
3. Embrace it -See the pain as a sign of your own determination to be better
3. Push past it - develop the inner strength to refuse to quit when it hurts
4. Know it won't last forever - eventually you will win out over the pain and be stronger for it

So; for all you bunheads with toes wrapped in bandaids, you probably already know these lessons, but if you are going through a difficult time, maybe a reminder will encourage you to keep stretching, keep reaching, keep growing, keep dancing to the music in your soul.