Kids across the country return to school this week, and it makes me sad.

Granted, there are tons of kids ready to go back, and just because I hated school for 17 years does not mean I am anti-education.

But what happened to the three-month summer? Today’s kids get out in late May, start pencil and scissor shopping in July and are tucked back behind a desk before August even gets going. When I was younger, June, July AND August were sacred, and were spent riding bikes, climbing trees, attending church camp, reading piles of books from the library, scrounging up quarters to pay the late fines, eating popsicles, cannonballing into the pool, sunburning shoulders, and pestering little brothers. Bliss.


Of course, not every child’s summer was so idyllic, and researchers now believe children without access to camps and libraries suffer “summer learning loss.” As a result, more schools, especially in lower-income areas, are extending semesters and school days and shortening summer breaks.

For instance, according to a recent Time magazine article, Cincinnati offered the 13 lowest-performing schools in the city an optional “fifth quarter,” or extra month of classes, this past June. This seems equivalent to offering Guantanamo prisoners an extra four weeks of waterboarding, but Governor Strickland hopes to eventually add the extension to every school in the state.

Others point out our country’s low achievement scores relative to Europe and Asia, and some believe sociological shifts support the extended day. “Our children are no longer working in the fields,” says US Education Secretary Arne Duncan in the same article. “And Mom isn’t waiting at home at 2:30 with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. That just doesn’t happen in American families anymore.”


This seems like a classic mistake of cause and effect.

For one thing, that mom (or dad) who’s not home to greet the children after work may also be too tired to give much help with homework or attend parent-teacher conferences. I’m not trying to open the whole should-women-work topic, because the issue is more complex—both moms and dads (when present) improve their kids’ academic performance by taking an active interest and involvement in the process. Keeping kids in school longer won’t make the parents less stressed or more on-task when the kids finally get home.

Second, many of our schools are already in crisis, with teachers struggling to manage huge classes and dwindling resources. Extending a child’s stay in some of them is about as productive as giving the mouse a bigger wheel to run. Some educators realize this, and are using the extended time as an opportunity to give extra attention to the kids who need it most. “Clearly, focusing on the students that are furthest behind is where it makes the most sense,” says Chris Gabrieli, chairman of Massachusetts 2020, which helped create an experimental extended day program in 26 low-performing schools throughout the state. “Middle-class kids, they get a lot more learning time outside of school—they get tutors, they get arts programs, they get music programs, they get summer camps.”


And so we return to my own memories of summer, three predictably wonderful months ending with predictably pathetic tears on Labor Day. Because I had the benefit of those enrichment activities, plus a good public school and involved parents, I graduated at the top of a big class and earned a 31 on my ACT. Although the meager bragging rights of that sentence are about the total good the ACT did me, neither did the long summers do me any harm.

A few more hours each week might help our students become more competitive, but our parents and schools also have a few things to learn. Let’s use the time we have more effectively before piling more onto little sunburned shoulders.

Filed under: life, opinions

Filed under: lists, opinions, things I don't understand Tagged: baby Gap, Katherine Hepburn, things i don't understand

You don’t have to be a long-time reader to know I’m frustrated with Christianity in this country.

I’m tired of expensive buildings and the capital campaigns to pay for them. I’m tired of huge staffs and routine services and “the church has left the building” (for one day) and maybe-effective programs like VBS (can I say that on a Standard blog?). I’m tired of people who claim to be Christians but have no idea what they believe or why.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me. Long-time readers also know I can overthink things and be critical. (It’s amazing any of you still read this blog, actually.)

Are my expectations too high? Is the church we have now what God intended? Does anyone else feel this way?

Apparently at least two others do, and I got to chat with them last week.



Ashley Wooldridge, executive pastor at Christ’s Church of the Valley, shared how CCV completely overhauled its structure by dividing up their entire area into neighborhoods and asking people to build relationships with other CCV attenders right on their street and in their subdivision instead of driving across town for a small group.

But the goal wasn’t more convenient Bible studies; group members are expected to get to know the neighbors around them and own the responsibility for service and outreach in that neighborhood. Groups work together to meet that specific neighborhood’s needs: they provide meals for new mothers and grieving families, help with home renovation projects, organize neighborhood picnics, give groceries to the unemployed, and even collect money for a neighbor’s medical bills or a rehab stay.

(Interesting side note: despite huge growth and a merge with another megachurch earlier this year, CCV’s benevolence budget has not increased.)


On the other side of the country, RiverTree Christian Church is revamping its strategy around “GoCos”–Go Communities ranging from 20 to 70 people, each one committed to reaching a different group. The church will launch 30 of these this fall, but already a few are gathering at the local country club and among the area’s itinerant Mexican farmers. Each group has a leader who’s trained and coached by RiverTree pastors, but each one is also encouraged to function as its own small part of the body and reproduce itself.

Senior pastor Greg Nettle sees this as the way to truly grow; the church recently passed up the opportunity to buy the huge plot of land and build the huge building to focus on this—a strategy that doesn’t require much meeting space and could potentially affect many more people. These folks may or may not ever attend worship at RiverTree, but worship attendance is (finally!) no longer the ultimate measure of success in reaching a community.


I’m not blogging about this to pick on church again; instead, I want to celebrate some churches willing to try different models. Both are more difficult, time-consuming and risky than church as usual. The results of both are harder to measure. And both challenge people to move from consumers of a weekly show to participants in the mission of the church.


Are these approaches a “better” way to do church? I don’t know. But they sure look more like the first church than what the rest of us are doing.

Filed under: people, RM, the church Tagged: Ashley Wooldridge, christ's church of the valley, Greg Nettle, missional, missional Christianity, RiverTree Christian

Before jumping into my list, we begin with some honorable mentions contributed by helpful readers after last week’s post.


Their picks for the worship song they just can’t sing included Famous One (for a number of reasons, including the line “For all you’ve done and yet to do”), Breathe (“The song just bugs me for some reason. Mainly I feel like we are suffocating”) and How He Loves (“you know, the Sloppy Wet Kiss song”).

Much ire was directed at I Could Sing of Your Love Forever. The whole song is about dancing with joy and it’s usually sung by “a bunch of stoic, middle-class white people, doing nothing that even remotely resembles dancing,” said one. Another person succinctly summed up my feelings when he said, “Why is this song always performed so it seems like it DOES go on forever?”


But the winner from last week’s comments was my college friend Tom who shared the verse from a song that, he said, “makes me want to shower each time I hear it.” Go check out the comments from part one.

And that leads us into today’s list…..


1. You Are My Passion

Objectionable lyric:

Now will You draw me close to You?
Gather me in Your arms.
Let me hear the beating of Your heart,
O my Jesus, O my Jesus.

You are my passion, Love of my life
Friend and companion,
My Lover.
All of my being longs for Your touch.
With all my heart I love You.

Why: If the example from Tom didn’t convince you (seriously, go read it), here’s another example of the “Jesus, my boyfriend with whom I apparently get very physical” genre. And we wonder why there are no men at church.

A good rule of thumb: If you would be too embarrassed to stand up with a microphone and speak the words to your spouse, please do not sing them to your Savior.


2. Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble?

Objectionable lyric:

Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
Songs that bring your hope
Songs that bring your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice

Why: How, exactly, does one dance upon injustice? Are special shoes required? And for that matter, why are we going so easy on injustice? Why aren’t we stomping on it? Or kicking it? Or giving it lots of paper cuts and then squeezing lemon juice on it?


3. Above All

Objectionable lyric:

Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all

Why: First, I’ve never connected with the image of a rose falling onto the ground and being walked on as a parallel for Jesus being beaten and nailed to wooden beams. Neither does “taking the fall” seem adequate (or even respectful).

But my bigger issue is that in typical American style we have made this song “above all” about us. Yes, Jesus laid down his life so we could know God, but the final chapters of each Gospel indicate he was focused on God’s glory, not Jennifer Taylor. Some worship leaders change “and thought of me” to “and now you reign.” It’s not a bad idea, folks.


4. Worthy is the Lamb

Objectionable lyric:

High and lifted up
Jesus, Son of God.
The darling of Heaven, crucified….
Worthy is the Lamb.

Why: It would only be worse if Jesus was called the sweetheart of heaven. “Honeybunch of heaven” has too many syllables. But “heartthrob of heaven” could work…….


5. Great is the Lord Almighty

Objectionable lyric:

Great is the Lord Almighty, He is Lord He is God indeed
Great is the Lord Almighty, He is God supreme

Why: Simply put, I cannot sing about “God supreme” without thinking of Taco Bell.


Okay, your turn again. Why the erotic subtext to so many Christian songs? Am I way off on “Above All”? And what would you do to injustice?

Filed under: lists, opinions, worship Tagged: above all, contemporary worship, worship chorus, worst worship song

I’m thinking about jealousy today.

Most of the time I’m quite content to be a behind-the-scenes person, using my skills to make other leaders and their projects more successful.

Most of the time.


Then there are days like yesterday when I see other people, much more well-known, praised for their abilities. Through a combination of luck and talent (because they are talented), these folks have risen to the top of their fields or the top of the best-seller lists or the top of the blogosphere, and for the most part they are doing good things with their platforms.

But sometimes I feel resentful because, if I’m honest, I think I’m just as talented and just as capable.


Maybe you can relate. Are you the pastor of a small, unknown church who regularly hits a home run with your sermons? Do you privately critique the messages preached by the megachurch guy down the street and resent his popularity and conference invites?

Maybe you work in an office where charisma is more valued than commitment and you see others receive credit for what you’ve done.

Or maybe, like me, you work hard and pay your dues plus some interest just to see others work less, make more money, receive more opportunities and get more pats on the back.


Self pity much? Just thinking this way seems childish, and I don’t like this about myself. I don’t like admitting it to you. But I’m probably not alone. So just in case any of you ever struggle with the same green-eyed monster, here’s what I try to remember when jealousy strikes:

I can’t know another person’s life. It’s easy to idealize someone else’s successes, but that person probably has physical, emotional, spiritual or relational struggles you know nothing about. Remember you’re only seeing one part of the picture.

Get real. It’s easy to feel cheated because I haven’t had the same opportunities, but if I’m honest I don’t have even the beginning of a book idea or a mission to share. Why fuss about not making the team when you haven’t learned the sport?

They feel jealous, too. Believe it or not, that “personality” you’re thinking of is measuring himself against someone else. There’s always someone with more money, more influence or more talent. Comparison doesn’t stop when you achieve a goal; if anything, it gets worse.

Those who need to know, know. The masses may not know my name, but the pastors, nonprofit leaders, authors, entrepreneurs and creatives I work with appreciate me and what I do. Having them as fans is more important to me than having Facebook fans.

There’s still ink in the pen. I’m in my 30s, not my 70s—there’s still time to have more adventures. Even if I was in my 70s, Grandma Moses proved you can begin an amazing career at any age. My story isn’t written yet.

Contentment is a choice. Today I get to see Andrew Peterson in concert (good grief, talk about an artist who should be better known), interview leaders in California and Florida for that Externally Focused project, brainstorm the new name for a midwest megachurch, write an iPhone app description for a church planting group, and connect with you on this blog. I’m healthy. My friends and family are wonderful. The lawnmower works again and there’s no “back to school” in my future. I have a pretty great life, and I need to remember it.


When do you feel jealous? How have you resisted the comparison game?

Filed under: life, work Tagged: jealous, jealousy