“Come on Punky Brewster, let’s go! We need to finish this!” I yelled those words quietly but angrily at our dog this last weekend. We were finishing up a walk, and she thought that would be the best time to stop and smell everything we walked by, and even to roll in some unknown goodies in the grass by the sidewalk. It was like she could sense my hurry, and was just pushing my buttons, trying to get me to slow down.  By the later half of the walk, I was annoyed. I was on a mission to finish this walk now, and Punky Brewster was going to listen and stop dragging her paws. Or so help me God...

This story would be nothing more than a little amusing, if not for the fact that this wasn’t just an everyday walk, but a journey on one of the neighborhood labyrinth’s that our church-in-formation has started practicing. These were something my wife and co-pastor Rebecca created, as we talked with those around us about what it would look like to begin spiritual practice that is focused on our neighborhood. Rebecca had inspiration for this idea for the neighborhood labyrinth walk after reading a children’s book to some kids in our neighborhood. The story she was reading was about talking an older dog for a walk, and how the person walking the dog was forced to slow down because the dog couldn’t move as fast as it once did. But in slowing down, the dog’s owner was able to notice things they had not noticed before in their neighborhood.  Rebecca loved the idea of slowing down on a walk, for the purpose of seeing, listening, and noticing things we may have missed in our neighborhood.

So there I was. Annoyed at our dog. For causing me to slow down, which is one of the main purposes of the walk I was on. An act that mirrored the very story this spiritual practice was inspired by. The reality of that hit me not long after the walk was finished.

You see, I am not always good at slowing down. At taking the time during a busy week to take a deep breath and truly listen to my neighborhood. To see what God is up to in unexpected places. To see beauty in my community that I might otherwise miss. To notice pain and injustice that I might have overlooked.

It is so easy for me to let that spiritual practice of listening become simply another task to accomplish. Something that needs to be done in pursuit of something else. A means to an end. Rather than a way of life. A practice that helps me live out the gospel of God’s love and justice in our world.

Labyrinths have traditionally been a place where one could slow down. Where one could re-center themselves on the sacred. Labyrinths are by their very nature a spiritual practice in not taking the most efficient path, but rather seeing that the journey to the center can be long and winding. They are also a place to slow down our minds and to listen. To the Spirit. To the sacred. 

As our community continues to practice these neighborhood labyrinths, I pray that I might build into my life a rhythm of listening and being present in the physical space in which I dwell, Bayside neighborhood in Everett. I want to see our church-in-formation not simply survive, but be a presence of love and justice in our community, seeking the good of our neighborhood.

And slowing down and listening is a good place to start.


*We will be walking these Neighborhood Labyrinths every month, in each of the five neighborhoods in North Everett. Come and join us! Here is the next one coming up.

I have a confession to make. I am a "do gooder." I want to do good in the world, and see good done to those around me. I think most of us want to see good done in the world. This central to how I see the gospel of Jesus.

It is funny to me that I hear this term used sometimes as an insult, or at least as a way to critique people who are trying to do good things in their community. I have been called a do gooder in regards to my work at HOMEpdx with folks who live outside in Portland, at best by people who just didn’t understand our relationally-focused work with those living outside, and at worst by those who saw our work as disrupting their safe and secure middle-class existence. I took these small jabs in stride, even seeing them as a badge of honor. After all, I had been called worse, and my friends outside get called worse every day.

But I also came to realize that there is a better reason to be wary of being a do gooder. I came to see that in my effort to do good for those around me, for those in my community, I can actually end up hurting them. That my efforts to go good can end up doing bad.  My friend and mentor Ken Loyd often talks about do gooders. About how the church is often full of do gooders. And how this is a good thing! But, he says, in our efforts to do good, we so often end up hurting those we are trying to love and serve.

At the end of the day, I think most churches and individuals who desire to love and serve those living outside would want their work to do good and not harm. Yet it is amazing how defensive people and churches can be when you point out the harm that can come from certain ways of giving and serving. When people have brought food, gifts, or other items that my friends outside don’t want or need, and I kindly let them know a better thing to bring next time, I have been told things like, “Well, at least we are giving," or “Hey, giving something is better than nothing.”  And I do understand. Here you are, trying to help, and your efforts are met with criticism, however kindly it is communicated. But if we want to take serious the idea that in our desire to do good we can end up doing bad, then we can’t take these criticisms personally. Because it is not about us.  It is not about our intentions, however noble they might be. 

It is about my friends who live outside.

Which brings us to what I think is the main reason we inadvertently hurt poor people we want to help: We don’t know them. Which makes it harder to listen to them.  So much of the harm that comes from efforts to do good for the poor might be done away with if those who desire to give and serve would take a pause before doing so in order to listen and know those they wish to serve. Then they might see why a meal devoid of protein isn’t the best thing to serve. Or why certain clothing items are not needed as much as other ones.  And the simple fact of knowing another person makes it less likely that we will assume anything about their needs and wants.

This is why I truly believe that if the church wants to love and serve the poor, the church must know those who are poor.  I know this isn’t easy. And I also know this won’t fix all the harm that comes from good intentions. I mean, I have spent the last three years trying to listen to my friends who live outside, and I still fail sometimes at causing harm when I try and do good. But if we want to truly love and serve our neighbors who live outside, we must listen. We must learn. We must be willing to leave our comfort zones.

Because at the end of the day, us do gooders might not only find betters ways of doing good. We might also meet some new friends in the process.

"God hates visionary dreaming; it makes the dreamer proud and pretensions. The man who fashions a visionary ideal of community demands that it be realized by God, by others and by himself. He enters the community of Christians with his demands, sets up his own laws, and judges that brethren and God Himself accordingly. He stands adamant, a living reproach to all others in the circle of brethren. He acts as if he is the creator of the Christian community, as if his dream binds men together. When things do not go his way, he calls the effort a failure. When his ideal picture is destroyed, he sees the community going to smash. So he becomes, first an accuser of his brethren, then an accuser of God, and finally the despairing accuser of himself."

-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together


Rebecca and I have frequently repeated this quote over the last year of discerning about starting a new church. When we were called to move to Everett, we put this quote on the back of our "all things church" binder, where it remains today. This quote not only resonated deeply with us, but has become central to our new journey in Everett.

Now, do I think dreaming is bad when it comes to the church? No. But hear me out.

When I hear this quote, I hear in it the temptation to look at this new church community we are exploring as the place where all of my critique of church can finally be put down. I see a community living up to my ideal of what church should be. I see a place where all that I hate about the church is left in the past, and where all that is right and just in the church is lived out perfectly. This church I envision becomes a projection, a way to deal with all that I see wrong in the modern church.

It would be a church created in the image of all that I hate, dislike, and critique about the church.

It would be a church created in my image.

This is where dreaming gets dangerous: when it becomes about me. As a straight white male, my ideals of what church should be is intimately affected by my place of privilege in our culture.*  My thoughts and dreams and critiques about the church come from this place.  And, while a church built on dreams like this might be the answer to my middle-class angst, it will likely become a difficult place to live out the justice and love of God in our community.

So this is why I want to dream. And why I can't dream alone.

I want to dream with those who have been pushed to the margins, listening to them about what church should be, not just inviting them to church.

I want to dream with people who are not white, not straight, and not male, even if the ideas about church that emerge are not my ideals.

I want to dream with the indigenous voices of the land I am on, who were here long before people that looked like me arrived.

I want to dream with those experiencing poverty and houselessness, asking what church would look like outside of a comfortable, middle-class experience.

I want to dream alongside my neighbors, whether or not they even come to church or even call themselves Christian.

I want to dream about what church would look like if we honestly listen to all of these voices.

So yes, I want to dream. But that will mean realizing that true dreaming about the church and the gospel of God's love and justice in this world will often mean laying down my own dreams and listening to the dreams of others.


*It should be noted that my wife Rebecca is going to be the lead pastor of this new church we are dreaming of. She is an amazing woman and a gifted pastor and artist, and you can read more from her here!  http://www.rebeccasumner.com/

As I write this today, I am sitting here in the midst of transition. For the first time in my life, I am no longer a resident of the great state of Oregon, where I was born and raised. I no longer live in Portland, which was my home for the last 5 years. And last Sunday was my last day with HOMEpdx, the community in downtown Portland that I have been blessed to be a part of for the last three years. So why all this transition?  On January first my wife Rebecca and myself begin the wonderful and daunting task of helping to begin a new church community in Everett, Washington. This is not something either of us are jumping into lightly, and something that comes after a long time of discernment. We both feel that this move, and this new endeavor, are what we are supposed to be doing in this next season of life.

This is something that we are not supposed to do alone. Obviously, the new church cannot be done alone. We are excited to meet new people, continue the conversations we have already been having, and see who else might feel called to join us in the crazy new adventure  It is our hope that this church will be a place of love, a place of justice, a place where a diversity of voices are not only heard but are called to lead and serve, and a place where all people are welcome. And this will require the wisdom of others who will join us on this journey. 

We also hope to learn from those who might not be able to join us, or who are already practicing church, whatever that looks like, in their own respective traditions and locations. This is one big reason why I finally decided to have a website (Rebecca, my crazy talented wife, actually made the website, because she is awesome).  I hope that this is a space where you not only can keep us with us on this new part of our journey, but also where you can join in and wrestle with the questions that come up as we ask what church should look like in 2015. One beautiful thing the internet has provided is the ability to collaborate across distance. So our church-in-formation, which will be embedded in the location and context of downtown Everett, can learn from your church and the context you are in.  With all that is going on in the world, we need to be able to listen to others, outside of our location and context, as to how we as a new church can practice the gospel of God’s love and justice in our community.

With all of that, welcome to my website. I am not the best at regularly writing on a blog, though I do hope to get better at that practice as part of my new routine.  I am also horrible at promoting myself, even when I should, though eventually there may be some of that here as well.  This will be an evolving space, as this journey moves Rebecca and myself in uncharted waters.

If any of this connects with you, you can follow along this journey here. And If the idea of this new church intrigues you, you can read more about that here.  I look forward to connecting with friends new and old, and I wish you the best this holiday season.