In his 1981 book Megatrends, John Naisbitt taught that the more “high tech” a society is, the more “high touch” it must become.  40 years later, this is truer than ever.  As I look at ministry in the trenches, I see “high touch” as the most critical ministry skill today.

These days you can’t make plans more than a week out.  Ask any educator preparing for the school year.  Things change daily, even by the hour.  This leaves life feeling chaotic and uncertain. 

So how do we go about our work?
Is it worth all the effort?
Should we make plans, or just throw up our hands?
 
I’ve been dwelling on Psalm 127.  “Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build labor in vain.  Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain.”  (Ps. 127:1)  This Psalm re-frames our perspective on work and planning when our work seems in vain. 

In response to Psalm 127, here are three practices that I think capture its spirit.  They put us in the posture of proper work and planning. 

This instruction is found in the Rule of St. Benedict (chapter 4) which provides direction for monastic communities of the Benedictine order.  Why so morbid?  Aren’t Christians to be hopeful? ​

Impeachment debate and acquittal.  
Coronavirus.
Kobe helicopter crash.
Super Bowl.
Iowa caucus (debacle).  
State of the Union Address.
Grammy awards.  

These are headlines from the last few days.  The volume of significant (and heavy) events invading our head (and heart) space is overwhelming.  The news cycle is like a carousel spinning out of control.  If our only reading material is the endlessly urgent front page, we are trapped in a myopic moment. 

I prefer the enduring over the instant.  A bit of marinated wisdom instead of a tweet vomited in a moment of impulse. 

Here's an actionable step.  Limit the reading of "headlines," the new, urgent, up-to-the-minute.  Make space to read what is "old," tested, and true.  There is C.S. Lewis's classic quote on reading old books:

I was sent to the grocery store for one thing.  Sweet and condensed milk.  (I'm not completely sure what it is, but I know it's in a can.)   I walked through the automatic door and saw bananas.  I accidentally grabbed organic bananas, so I went back to exchange them for "real" bananas.  

Then I saw blueberries on sale.  Then Frosted Mini-Wheats.  "Do I get the brand name or off brand?"  And then I realized we needed salsa.  There are 33 kinds of salsa!  Decision overload!  Then I noticed cute little bottles of Tito’s vodka for $1.89.  "Whoa!  That woman just put 50 little bottles of Tito’s in her cart.  Why not just get one big bottle?"    Then I paused, "I came here for one thing.  What was it?"

There’s so much in the store, you forget the one thing you came for.  Life is like this too.  There is so much in our lives, we forget the one thing.  In a world of "too much," we need the ancient Christian discipline of simplicity.  

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Last summer I stopped by St. John's Abbey in Collegeville, MN.  Like most monasteries, St. John's has a guesthouse that is open to any visitor, Catholic or otherwise.  In the entryway is a wall hanging of chapter 53 of The Rule of St. Benedict.
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"All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say, 'I was a stranger and you welcomed me.'"  

In this rule, Benedictines bind themselves to welcoming the stranger as a guest, as if Christ himself.   What would it look like for all Christians to adopt this rule, especially in the frenetic holiday season?

Kanye West, who released albums like Yeezus and My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, has now released an exclusively Christian album titled “Jesus is King.”  The same man who once rapped “I am God,” now sings on a song titled “Jesus is Lord”:   “Every knee shall bow and tongue confess, ‘Jesus is Lord.’” 
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There’s plenty of scuttle over the genuineness of his conversion.  Is it for real?  Is this true faith, or another ambitious career stunt?  Will he continue to confess his Christian faith in a year, or ten?  Is he making money off of his “Sunday Services”?  Where does the gospel fit in a world of celebrity, paparazzi, and Kardashians?  

Although he also traveled by water, walking was the primary mode of transportation for Jesus of Nazareth.  As a child, we know Jesus journeyed with his parents to Egypt.  Outside of that,  most of his life took place in a small territory in Palestine.  His public ministry spanned a region no further than 100 miles. 

I love these four words from John 9:1:  "As he passed by . . ."   A great many events in the gospels happened, “as he passed by,” along the way.  On the road.  In the marketplace.  Out in the countryside.  By the city gate.  On the shoreline, by the water.  In a home, at the dinner table.  Very little of Jesus' ministry took place "at church," in the temple.  Jesus’ ministry happened while he walked, “as he passed by.”  

Speed is an ultimate asset in our culture.  We have a lust for expediency.  Orders from Amazon come faster.  We eat fast food.  Microchips in computers and phones get exponentially faster.  (See Moore's Law.)    We want to make money faster, retire faster, finish a degree faster, get projects done faster.  Life is done in a rush.  We get to the end of a day and it’s a blur.  We think, “I did a lot today, but what did I do?” 

The reception desk was staffed with a team of bright, smiley 27-year-olds when I walked into Facebook headquarters in Menlo Park, CA.  They were hip, casual, and optimistic.   After receiving credentials, we met Alex, a friend of a friend, and our "in" to FB HQ.  

Accompanied by a small team from my church on a mission expedition to the San Francisco Bay Area, we followed Alex to a corral with rows of bikes.  To traverse the complex of buildings, we gleefully biked like kids, calling them "Mark's bikes," a shout out to CEO Zuckerberg.  

Like it's own city, the Menlo Park hub has everything, and it's all free.  An employee will find:

• Dry cleaning.
• A bike shop.
• A cafeteria.  Mexican?  Thai?  A burger?  They have it.
• Snack corners on every floor with racks of gum, candy bars, and bottled beverages.  We filled our pockets with packs of Orbitz gum , which for days we referred to as "Facebook gum."

A sense of optimism permeated the grounds.  There was a feeling that "we're changing the world."  It seemed less a company and more a cause, nearly religious in nature. 

Common reactions to the growing list of men accused of sexual misconduct, harassment, or abuse.  

"I'm so disappointed."
"They're dropping like flies."
"Disgusting." 
"I can't believe it.  I would never have guessed . . ." 
"Charlie Rose?"
"Who's next?  The Pope?  The Rock?"

We should all be saying that such behavior is unacceptable. 
We speak on behalf of the dignity of women. 
We work to break systems of lewd perversion and abuse of power. 
We press for a new transparency in workplace and society.  
We stand for those violated and look for ways to provide healing and support.  

While we certainly say all these things, I'm also looking for what no one else is saying.