glenn packiam's blog

A Widget to Share With Your Friends on "Secondhand Jesus"

What Creative People Never Tell You About Creativity

There is a myth about creativity that will surface in almost every conversation about the subject. It may not be expressed in quite the same way; it isn't even always said. But at the bottom of almost every discussion on creativity is the belief that creativity is about authenticity, it is about being unique, being different, being an individual. When a person does "what no one has ever done before", she is being creative. When a person copies or incorporates ideas or methods that have been used before, he is being dull and uncreative. 

But here are three things that every artist knows but is reluctant to admit...three reasons why the confusion of creativity with authenticity is misleading:

1. Only God Creates Out Of Nothing

Ex nihilo is the Latin phrase the Church used to explain that when God made the world, He didn't have any starting materials. He made it all from scratch. Out of nothing.

Every creative person thereafter has been building with His lumber. We are, as it were, painting with a fixed palette. All our so-called inventors are not making new things; they are taking existing things and combining them in such a way as to bring new possibilities to our world. A musician is working with a finite amount of notes. In Western composition, 12 to be exact. In Eastern melodies, intervals "within the cracks of the piano keys" are acceptable, but even then, the possibilities run out. Every dye ever made reflects a color God first sprayed in our universe. Even in our most creative work, when we join with God to co-create life, we are not creating something out of nothing. The building blocks of art are ancient.

2. Imitation is an important part of creativity.

OK, so not much room for disagreement on the first point. But here's is where things get a little dicey. No one who truly aspires to be creative cares to admit the amount of imitation they've engaged in. I recently went with my wife and Rob and Sarah Stennett to hear the award-winning short story writer Tobias Wolff do some readings at Colorado College. He talked about how in virtually every field of art imitation was an acceptable form of learning. Painters might begin by sitting in front of a Monet and trying to recreate it. Musicians will mimic riffs from Hendrix or Armstrong or Coltrain. But writers are somehow disdained for writing stories that imitate Hemingway or Fitzgerald. 

Why the double standard? Why not come out and admit that imitation is how we learn to create, in all fields? Imitation places us inside the head of an artist, making us see the notes they chose and the ones they ignored, the colors they blended and the combinations they used. It lets us peer at the world through their eyes as we try to re-create their "creation". Since none of us are making new "materials", we can learn about how to rightly combine these materials from the works of others. We learn to talk, to put words together, by being spoken to; we learn to pray by praying the prayers of Scripture; and we learn to create by re-creating the works of others.

3. Creativity is a combination of "theme" and "variation".

OK, so if we're not creating ex nihilo, and if imitation is part of the creative process, then where is the individuality, the uniqueness? It is in the way we reference the "theme" and the way we vary from it. What this means, then, is that the unwillingness to include any part of "theme" or a norm in our work means that we've lost any point of reference for others. It may be "creative", but it is isolated and esoteric. Let's think of it this way: a language that is truly unique is also utterly useless; it is a language known and understood only by you. It is gibberish. So, any art that refuses the inclusion of "theme" or even fragments of a template is an art that is individualized to the extreme. No one else can participate in it or benefit from it or be inspired by it. But if what we create is to have some sort of "public service" to it (the word "liturgy" comes from a Greek word that means a civic or public service)-- and not all art has to-- it must be willing to submit to "theme and variation."

If you think about it, human beings are unique not in an absolute sense, but we are unique in the way themes and variations of those themes combine in us. We all have themes of God's image in us; we are sullied by the familiar stains of sin. Yet there are infinite (?) variations of God's nature and sin's defacement in each of us. And it is those combinations that make us unique. This may be disappointing to have to admit that we are more like each other than we had supposed, that no one is truly all that different. Even more deflating is the realization that if we all sought to be "extraordinary", no one would be extraordinary since extraordinary would then be the new "ordinary." We find ourselves, then, pursuing creativity like a teenager wanting to be different: we want to be different, just like everyone else. And so we are forced finally to admit that we are all more similar than different. We are living displays of theme and variation. And so is everything we make.

Two Sides of the Same Coin: Why I Recorded a Solo Album

I have always felt that at my core I am a teacher. It shows up in everything I try to do. This has often come with some unwelcome baggage. I find myself turning simple conversations into a soapbox pontifications; friends who simply want to vent are forced to endure my "teaching moments". Music for me has always been a tool to teach-- a lovely, moving, beautiful tool, but still, a tool. I have never considered myself a "true musician", one who loves the art for the art itself. I have been a worship leader because I love calling people's attention to God. And music is an elegant and potent way to communicate that call. In some ways, I stumbled into being a worship leader vocationally, always knowing that some day that would pass. So, when I stepped out of the Desperation Band last summer, it was not to "go solo". I had no intentions then, nor do I now, of being a "solo artist". I left so I could make room in my life for more speaking and writing. When I made the decision in April (it didn't become official until the summer), I hadn't signed a contract with David C. Cook, though conversations were in process. Still, I had no idea how things would play out.

After spending the summer writing Secondhand Jesus and much of the Fall re-writing sections, a friend who used to work for Integrity Music and is now a free-lance producer called. He asked if I would be interested in making a studio solo record. He would recruit the musicians and fund the project, and if we sold it to a label, he would reap the full benefit of his investment. 

Faced with that unexpected opportunity, I realized something: I'm not done with music yet. It is still a huge part of my life. I had written some new songs that I believed in and had used at theMILL (New Life's college ministry where I led every week). The thought of being able to record them and to also give new artistic life into a handful of previously recorded songs was exciting to me. I had to make my peace with the fact that, for now, speaking and worship leading, writing and songwriting, are two sides of the same coin: they are part of who I am and how I teach. 

So I spent a week in Mobile with a bunch of incredible musicians making the album. As it took shape, I couldn't believe how good it sounded-- and it had nothing to do with me! Then Integrity Music said they were interested in picking it up. I made it clear that I would never be a career artist or spend my life on the road. They said there were many ways of making a deal work. And this is why I'm so thankful for them, this is what makes them true ministry partners and not simply a record label: they got it; they understood me and how the Lord is at work. We found a quick, low-pressure way of making this album theirs.

In the process of choosing songs for the project, I realized that in many ways this would be a sort of companion piece to Secondhand Jesus. The book and the CD are twin expressions of the same journey. They have been a kind of soundtrack for my walk. In fact, many of the songs unintentionally correspond with the themes of certain chapters. It makes sense; after all, both were written in the same time in my life. For example:

Track 7 "Without You" works well with the themes of Chapters 3 and 4; 

Track 1 "This Is Our God" seems to correspond with Chapters 5 and 6; 

and Track 4 "For Love I Sing" captures the heart of Chapters 7 and 8. 

Maybe the most obvious correlation is Track 3 "Burning in Me" with Chapters 9 and 10 because of the pre-chorus: 

"I have only heard the whispers of Your majesty,

All I've known were only rumors, 

Now my eyes have seen Your glory, God." 

Anyway, I hope that helps explain what's going on in my life. I can't see what's around the bend all that clearly. But for now, music and writing are two sides of the same coin. They are faithful vehicles for me to express what God is doing in my life, and I hope both can be of some usefulness to you. 

"Rumors and Revelations" releases June 23. To hear tracks and to get chord charts, visit the brand new www.glennpackiam.com.

Rumors and Revelations

In Defense of the "Institutional Church"

Before we begin, it's important that we get our terms right. When some people say "institutional church", what they really mean is the "corporation church"-- the church-as-a-business that operates for profit and self-preservation. I would offer no defense for such a church. But I would suggest a caution to you: while there may be pastors who have become more like shopkeepers than shepherds, I want you to understand the seriousness of the allegation you are making when you denounce a church as being nothing more than a corporation. You are making a claim that cuts to the heart and motives of pastors and people you may not know, suggesting that they are mercenaries who care nothing for God and His work. There may be cases where that is true, but you cannot know for sure. Which leads me to another point of clarification: it is impossible to deal honestly in generalities. I could not possibly defend every church, nor could you condemn every church that fits a particular bill (too large, too small, too stagnant, etc.). 

That being said, let's begin. Here are four reasons to defend the so-called "institutional church":

1. Place Matters

There is this saying that the church is not a building. Of course, we understand the point-- that WE, the redeemed, the "called out ones", are the Church. But this over-emphasized distinction can seem a little foolish. It's like lecturing your kids about how your family is not a home. Certainly a family can survive without a home and a family is still a family even when children go away to college or are displaced by trouble and hardship. But a home is part of the fabric of a family. It is where the family gathers after work and school; it is where they cook and eat, carry out their chores, sit and talk, and, for better or worse, make memories. In fact, if you've had the good fortune of growing up in the same home, you understand that over time the distinction between "home" and "family" becomes academic. If you've been away from home and you return for a holiday or for the summer, the familiarity of furniture and rooms and aromas remind you of everything about your family. Home is not just where the heart is; it's where the family lives. 

Jesus frequently pointed people to the Temple after interacting with them. The Apostles of the Early Church met with Jewish believers on Solomon's Porch, the East wing of the Temple. When Paul traveled, he often made a bee line for the synagogue, knowing he could find God-worshippers there. Why? Place matters. A church without a place is like a family without a home: it can be done, but the two are better together. The Church is not a building, but what is the "gathering of the called out ones" without a gathering place?

2. Ritual Matters

For all the knocks on "dead tradition" and boring ritual, rituals make up our everyday life; they are what keep our teeth from falling out, our personal hygiene in tact, and our oil changed roughly every 3000 miles. Life is full of things we do out of habit because we believe in the long term value of an activity. Ritual is a way to reinforce desire.

Ritual is also a way to preserve meaning. We celebrate birthdays to remind ourselves how precious life is and how quickly it passes. We celebrate when two people pledge their lives to one another in holy matrimony. And we pass out on the couch after stuffing ourselves with turkey and mashed potatoes, while the Detroit Lions lose another Thanksgiving Day game. (Not sure about the meaning that preserves, but it's a fabulous ritual!) For the ancient Jews, their year was full of festivals and special days that God ordained as a way of preserving meaning, of reminding them of who He was and what He had done for them and what He wanted them to be. 

And so we do the same in church. The Early Church quickly fell into rhythm and Luke records the ritual they practiced: breaking bread, prayer, eating meals in each others' homes, of which the Eucharist was a part. Secular historical records describe the early Christians as a strange group who gathered before sunrise on Sunday to "sing hymns to Christ as if to a god."

3. Creed Matters

It feels good to say that you're not against anybody and anything, that you define your life simply by the things you are "for", but it doesn't have any practical meaning. If you're for Jesus, you're against your own selfish ways. If you're for the Divinity of Christ, you're against anything that says he was just a man. To say one, all-encompassing "Yes" is to say a thousand smaller "No"s. 

Interestingly enough, Paul, John, and Peter spent a fair amount of space in their letters addressing false teachers. You would think they had enough problems on their hands with persecution from the Romans and castigation from the Jews. You would think they would take the warmth of friendship wherever they could find it. But no. Some are to be cast out of the church, shunned from homes, disassociated with. This flies in the face of that popular yet naive defense many a modern writer or author has offered when his doctrine is scrutinized: "People are dying without Jesus, and you're questioning my doctrine?" The Apostles would answer, "Yes, as a matter of fact, we are."

It's good and fine to start with an informal gathering of believers, but soon enough you'll have to decide what you believe and come to terms with it. Creed matters. And it mattered as early as Acts 2, where they followed in "the Apostles doctrine." The Church, from the outset, had some things they held onto unswervingly.

4. Structure Matters

Whether the authority is forced or relationally granted, all things on earth have structure. Having said that, I should say that all structures are flawed. The Church is not exempt. Instead of living to demonstrate (in N.T. Wright's phrase) the power of love, we persist in the love of power. Nevertheless, structure formed quickly in the 1st Century Church. Early in the Book of Acts, Deacons are appointed to help with their service project. On numerous occasions, Paul defends his apostleship because his leadership mattered. He also wrote to Timothy about how to appoint Elders and Deacons. While we are not completely sure of how the structure worked, we know that it was loosely in place. Paul also wrote of the necessity of order within a church service, and gave detailed criteria to Timothy on how to determine which widows should get assistance from the church. Sounds like systems and structures to me. Flawed as they are, structures are like the banks of a river: the are designed to protect the life of the church. Certainly they can get in the way and end up choking the life out of it. But then it is time to reform the structures not to try to do without them.

In conclusion...

So, if you have a place, a ritual, a creed, and a structure, you are part of an institutional church. It may be exclusive or open to the public. It may be informal or a suit and tie affair. It may be in a home or in a large hall. But if it is a gathering of God's people in a place, with ritual and creed and structure, you are the institutional church, and to speak against it is to cut off your nose to spite your face.

Now, there are some that have been busy writing books and blogs decrying the evils of the "Institutional Church", and the critique is tired and old. It reeks a little of adolescence. And if you won't hear it from me, then listen to the words of a seasoned old man that I have used before:

“What other church is there besides institutional? There’s nobody who doesn’t have problems with the church, because there’s sin in the church. But there’s no other place to be a Christian except the church...I really don’t understand this naïve criticism of the institution. I really don’t get it. Frederick von Hugel said the institution of the church is like the bark on the tree. There’s no life in the bark. It’s dead wood. But it protects the life of the tree within. And the tree grows and grows. If you take the bark off, it’s prone to disease, dehydration, death. So, yes, the church is dead but it protects something alive. And when you try to have a church without bark, it doesn’t last long. It disappears, gets sick, and it’s prone to all kinds of disease, heresy, and narcissism.” -Eugene Peterson

What I Wish I Knew About Worship Leading...10 Years Ago

Last month marked 10 years since I graduated from college. It also marked 10 years of leading worship in a full-time, vocational capacity. I was 21 when I started and I thought I had it figured out. I was a theology major in college and had led worship in chapel services and traveled all around the world with teams from our university, leading worship and teaching churches how to do it just like we did. I knew how to run auditions, put a set-list together, and make worship flow like a river. 

But I was clueless. I had no idea the way I would be drawn aside by own ego, fooled by opportunities and so-called fame. I was not prepared me for the hidden dangers that threaten the modern worship leader. If I could time-travel and talk to Glenn circa 1999, this is what I would say to him:

1. Don't be fooled by popular worship CDs/DVDs.

Almost every worship CD-- including ours-- begins with the roar of a crowd. I have yet to see a worship DVD filmed in front of a handful of people. The more time you spend with worship CDs and DVDs, the more you subconsciously believe that a worship service is about the euphoria of a crowd, the adrenaline rush of taking the stage. More people aspire to be worship leaders now because of what a cool profession it has become. It's sickening to sit with young worship leaders and watch a U2 or Coldplay DVD and see their eyes light up as mine once did as they think of ways to incorporate those elements at their church. Why wouldn't they? There is little difference between today's worship services and rock band show.

And yet, lights and smoke are not the fall guys. Crowds and electric guitars and not evil. The problem is much more subtle-- and more sinister. It is what is happening in our hearts: the subtle confusion between showmanship and leadership that comes from paying too much attention to recordings of people on a stage. Speaking of the stage...

2. Beware of the stage.

The stage is a dangerous place. The sooner we admit it and stop hiding behind cliches about a "platform God has given us" or an "opportunity to make God famous", the better we will be. Then we can be honest about how tempted we are to work for the praises of men. The stage makes us talk in funny voices, prone to melodrama, careful with how we report the facts. It makes us less honest versions of ourselves, and, in the worst cases, reduces us to a persona and no longer a person.

Confession is the path to healing. Psalm 90 is a confession of how temporal life is, how fleeting our best efforts are, and what limited, time-bound creatures we are. The Psalm is attributed to Moses, the leader and heroic deliverer of, quite likely, millions of people. Moses knew that standing in front of people who could one day be an adoring crowd and the next day be a riotous mob would tempt the best leaders to attempt more than they can really achieve, to inflate themselves to be larger than life. So, confess your limitations. Ration your time on stage. Remind yourself and others how replaceable you are by involving other leaders. In Moses' words, "teach us to number our days."

3. Learn to love a congregation not work a crowd.

The more I traveled with the Desperation Band, the more I longed for my church. At first, it was fun to be at festivals and conferences, to share green rooms with other celebrity artists enjoying their vapor of influence. We had always made the commitment to be at our church far more than we were gone. In fact, on average we were leading worship here three times more than we were leading worship anywhere else. 

But still, time in front of large crowds can make you do funny things. I've sprayed water from a bottle onto "worshippers" on the front row, I've crowd surfed in a packed room, and kicked beach balls from the stage. All in the name of having fun in church. None of these things are hideously evil, but they are deceptively destructive. They destroy the sacredness of the priestly vocation-- and the worship leader is priest before he is anything else. The worship leader is not a priest who mediates on behalf of the people; he is a priest who stands among a congregation of priests, calling attention to God. He is, as a priest is, one of the people. He shares their bloodline, their heritage, their history. He knows their stories. Today's worship leader is trained to be a performer working the crowd, instead of a priest lovingly standing among the people of God. 

4. Worship is more than our response.

Much has been made about how worship is our response to a revelation of who God is. That is true. But what is often left unsaid is that even our response is the result of God at work in us. Grace is not God doing something for us and then leaving us to respond. Grace is God working is us to become and do what He has called us to be and do. Grace is God doing FOR us what we COULD NOT and it is God doing IN us what we CANNOT. 

So worship, then, is more than a grateful, whole-hearted response to God; it is God Himself at work in us causing us to see Him, leading us to surrender, making our offering pleasing and perfect. Here, the whole Trinity is at work. God the Spirit, at work in our hearts, revealing Christ and drawing us to the Father; God the Son, through Whom our sacrifice is made perfect because His was, the One in Whom the Father is well-pleased and so when we are in Him, the Father is well-pleased with us; and God the Father who is glorified forever. 

That takes all the pressure off the worship leader. You are not responsible for how the people respond. That is God's work. You are there to be attentive to God at work in you and in the congregation, and to call attention to God among the people.

There. This is what I wish I knew 10 years ago. Perhaps it can save some of you from shipwreck.

Church Planters Beware: What Prometheus Would Tell Pastors

Three conversations made me think of church planters this past week. This first was an unexpected encounter with an old friend who has been leading worship for a church-plant. He was, at once, exhilarated and exhausted by the work of setting up a mobile church service every week and watching it grow to well over a thousand people in a little over a year. The second was a lunch I had with a worship leader in town that same day who told me that he had considered planting a church in the future but was intimidated by the enormous pressure and work that comes with planting. I listened to both wondering if church planting was doomed to be a herculean task.

The third conversation came a few days later, though it was not truly a conversation for I was only the listener. I heard a speaker introduced as the pastor of the "fastest growing church in America", a man whose church has increased on average by more than a thousand people a year over the past eight years. It is a remarkable accomplishment and a tribute to his leadership. He is a rare breed.

Then the three conversations on church planting wove together: Maybe some church planters are exhausted because they're trying to be the next mega-church. Here, I must confess my ignorance. It very well could be that church planting is inevitably as exhausting as any start-up business. But then again, why should a church plant be like a business? Why is there this torrid current of busyness and business that pushes pastors along, convincing them to do more and grow more quickly?

It may be because we've forgotten the myth of Prometheus Bound. Prometheus is well remembered in our day simply as the god who stole fire from the gods and gave it to mortals. But there is more to the tale than that. Up until then, humans had been born with the knowledge of the date of their death. In other words, they were conscious of their mortality. Prometheus erased this knowledge from their hearts, or as many translations say, "took away from human beings the foreknowledge of their dooms", and gave them instead "blind hopes." It is after both these things that Prometheus gives fire to mortals, the "technology" to accomplish their blind hopes. And what happened to Prometheus? He was chained to a rock doomed to live in perpetual suffering, never to be free. So, what would Prometheus tell church planters and pastors today? Here's a guess:

1. Don't trust your vision.

You've probably never heard anyone say this before, but it's quite Biblical. Jeremiah tells us that the heart is deceitful and desperately wicked (Jer. 17:9). James says that wars and strife within a church come from the lusts that rage in our own hearts (James 4:1). Peter spoke for all the disciples when he asked what they would get out of following Jesus (Matt. 19:27). And twice, Peter, following his own vision of how Jesus would carry out the Father's will, acted hastily and incorrectly: rebuking Jesus for talking about death on the cross, and cutting off the ear of the High Priest's servant.

In general vision is good, but the overall untrustworthiness of our own hearts and ambitions needs to be factored in when determining if our vision is actually God's. Many desires have been christened as vision because of too much trust in ourselves.

In short: Just because you want to, doesn't mean you should aim to.

2. Don't maximize your potential. 

Zeus was allegedly upset at Prometheus for many reasons, not the least of which was that he gave power to humans who lacked the wisdom of the gods. It might seem familiar to the Eden story of Adam and Eve gaining knowledge of good and evil and then being prevented from the eating the immortality of the Tree of Life. Sin has a way of aggrandizing our perception of our potential.

Technology has made us capable of doing many things that were previously impossible. I am grateful for most of these things. But technology has also given us the illusion that we can do more than we actually can. It inflates our ability beyond our capacity. We can blow up the world so we think we deserve to rule it. We can set up a video campus and people will come, so we think we can pastor on a national scale. We can broadcast talks and people will listen, so we think we are creating disciples of Jesus. But it's a ruse. We are like balloons filled with too much air, believing that we can reach the moon, when in truth we are a few puffs away from bursting beyond repair.

In short: Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

3. Embrace your limits.

"I made them stop focusing on their own mortal limitations," Prometheus said. How true for all of us today. With energy drinks for the masses and steroids for culture's most-watched performers, we are taught to aspire to a life without limitation. But this is not what Jesus called "blessed" when He praised the meek-- those who have strength under control; those who have the ability to do much but have embraced their limits. James, after warning us about the way our desires mislead us, writes that we are not to say that we shall go to this city and do this business and plot our life as if we had no boundaries. He reminds us that we are but a vapor, that everything must surrender to the will of the One Almighty God-- the only One who has no limits (James 4:13-15).

In short: Let God be God.

And now a word about Jesus.

It may not come as a surprise that Jesus did all these things in His ministry on earth. He did not trust His own "vision", when in the Garden He prayed for the cup to pass, but said to God's glory and our eternal good, "Not my will, but Thine be done." He did not maximize His potential when He refused to turn stone into bread, or to jump from the Temple's peak to show, in the center of the city, what God could do.He turned down the limelight, spending most of His ministry in fishing villages away from bustling cities stained by Herod's garishness. As Philip Yancey rightly said, His greatest miracle might have been the "miracle of restraint." Jesus embraced His limits when He laid His life down, learning obedience through death on the cross (Heb. 5:8). His 33 years on earth were not to be marked by victory but by humility and death. And through that death has come a life that truly know no limits, the God-kind of life.

[For more reading on the warning of Prometheus as applied to pastors, read "Working the Angles" by Eugene Peterson. It is the source to which I owe the greatest debt for this piece.]