I've been using my iPad for almost a month now. It's become a standard item in my backpack, just like my pocket-sized Bible and my journal (with a pen hooked onto the spine). Even though the iPad is technically capable of functioning as a "pocket-sized Bible," as a "journal," and as a "pen" -- I haven't given up these most basic, tried-and-trusted tools of my trade. Still, the iPad is becoming more and more integrated with my daily pastoring responsibilities. And I'm becoming more and more appreciative of its capabilities.

This past Sunday, I decided to use the iPad for my message notes, during our church's worship gathering -- and it worked out better than I might have expected. Instead of printing out my notes in 1.5-spaced, 14-point font on a stack of one-sided paper -- I "printed" my notes as a PDF file (using the typical formatting) and accessed them from the iBook application within the iPad. Legibility was totally not an issue (if anything, it was even easier to see my notes than usual). I didn't have any problems "turning pages." The settings were easy enough to adjust so that I didn't have to constantly be tinkering with the thing to keep it awake. And in general, it didn't seem to be a distraction for my listeners (i.e. no strange white glow visible to others, no extra foibles on my part as I tried to adapt to the new technology). I think it could be a very workable scenario. The only real issue that I still have with using the iPad for preaching is not being able to see two pages at one time, which is something that I had gotten used to with my old one-sided paper system. We'll see how this issue works itself out over time... But in any event, it was a worthwhile experiment.

I also really appreciate the iPad's usefulness in counseling situations. It's a really nice way to take notes -- because it has the feel of a simple pad of paper (with no vertical obstacles to communication, like there would be with a laptop screen), yet the output is still digital and thus much more easily archived and integrated into other systems that I have in place. The iPad also works well to take the place of print-outs, saving both time and money. For instance, I can use the iPad to access my own copy of a couple's individualized pre-marital counseling materials, while the couple can look on their own printed copy. Since the iPad is capable of storing thousands of documents without taking up any extra physical space, I rarely have that phenomenon of "Oh, I wish I had a copy of that document with me right now, to show you..." I use a free application called DropBox, so I can keep all my files up-to-date and on-hand. Very convenient.

E-mailing, e-reading, word-processing, and Skyping also work really well with the iPad -- and since I have a desktop computer that I use with my home office, I genuinely think I can get by without ever needing a laptop computer again. Up to this point, my only point of complaint with the iPad is its lack of ability to upload files. It would be so nice if the DropBox application could work both ways: downloading and uploading. But really, the only effective way that I've discovered to get around this design deficiency is to e-mail documents to myself. It's not the most difficult problem in the world to overcome... but it can be annoying.

In general, I'm very pleased with these current experiments in "pastoring with an iPad." In spite of the fact that I'm writing about it here and now, I have no plans to become an evangelist for the Apple Corporation. As a matter of fact, I've grown to really like having the black leather carrying case as a kind of camouflage for the technology itself -- so that I'm not flashing the Apple logo whenever I pick up the machine, and advertising the fact that I'm using a fancy piece of technology. Most of the time it just looks like I'm carrying an extra leather-bound portfolio that could just as easily be filled with paper and pens as with a tablet computer. Still, I appreciate the fact that this iPad is a valuable resource for my day-to-day ministry. And I'm thankful to God that He provided the resources for me to get it.

A portion of our ministry space was flooded a couple of Sundays ago, and it was not my finest moment in ministry. Raw, seeping sewage is not usually an ingredient for feeling fruitful and fulfilled.

I was grumbly. I was mad. I didn't want to be "the responsible one."

I didn't want to be the one with the keys to the building, the one who had to make sure that we figured out a plan for replacing the damaged floors that had to be ripped out. I didn't want to be the one with experience in laying laminate floors and organizing teams of volunteers. I argued that I had better things to be doing than measuring, cutting, fitting, and finishing the floors. I complained that there wasn't anyone else who could just take the project and run with it, while I carried on with the rest of my pastoral responsibilities. In short, I bemoaned my lot in life. I was a bitter, bitter man.

But then, thank God, I got some perspective.

Fortunately, with a bit of time and prayer, I started to see the flooring project as an opportunity to serve the church, develop other leaders in the church, and actually have some fun in the process, too! We got a great boost when Nicole and Michel took on some of the work in making plans and coordinating communication about the flooring project. Marc and Marcus helped with gathering the necessary materials. Marci and Sonja stepped in nicely, to help with the initial clean-up and floor preparation. David and Sasha knocked out the entryway in a single evening. Marijn and I got to do half of the Kids Room, and then David and Anthony finished it, while I laid the plints around the edges and Sasha put some of the furniture and plumbing implements back together.

Together, we completed the job with remarkable efficiency, and I actually found myself genuinely enjoying the process. It was fulfilling to do something very practical and tangible with other people from the church -- seeing something through from beginning, to middle, to end. It was refreshing to connect with others from the church, as we worked together and took coffee breaks together. We talked about summer vacations, relationships, careers, and faith. And in the end, we were all enriched by the experience. I hope that we don't have to do it again any time soon, but even if we do, I take comfort from the fact that I'll get to do it together with these people.

Two weeks ago, I asked if it was possible to contend without being contentious. As a Christian leader, I believe that there are absolute truths which require us to stand up and contend for what's right; however, I'm also challenged by the biblical directives that a Christian leader is supposed to be "temperate, self-controlled, respectable... (and) not quarrelsome" (see 1 Timothy 3:1-12). Christians are supposed to be characterized by a sense of love and unity, not arrogance and antagonism. But seldom is this ideal truly realized; sadly, it's often the exact opposite.

So I've been thinking about different ideas for how to contend with this contentious characteristic of contemporary Christians -- and I thought I would share a few of my suggestions here. It's not a complete list, but perhaps it's a starting point:

1. Pick your battles. The number one way to come across as a contentious Christian is to have a strong and unwavering opinion on every single issue. And why?!? It's exhausting, unneccessary... and unbiblical! The Bible directly addresses this by saying, "Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters" (Romans 14:1). So when experiencing friction with other beliefs or opinions, it can be very helpful to ask: "Is this a hill that I'm really willing to die upon?" Most of the time it probably isn't. So don't.
2. Believe the best about others. The truth is that the vast majority of people -- even the most disagreeable or misinformed individuals -- are motivated primarily by good intentions. They love their friends and family. They don't like to see others suffer. They feel normal human emotions and think normal human thoughts. Unless you're dealing with Hitler or Stalin or some other notorious sociopath, it's doesn't do anyone any good to demonize a person with a different view on any given subject. Oh, and in case you're tempted to believe that you're dealing with a Hitler or a Stalin, you're probably not. Seriously. You're not.
3. Start with self-examination. When contending with someone on a particular subject, a particularly effective, non-contentious way of interacting with the issues at hand is to approach things from an attitude of self-examination. How do you fall short of your own ideals? Which mistakes can you own up to, even if they might have come from good intentions? Self-deprecating humor can work well, too. It's surprising how agreeable others can become, if you're just willing to put yourself in the hot seat instead of attacking others.
4. Argue from the positive side of things, as much as possible (if you really must argue). As my friend Marco recently put it, "If someone is convinced that Apple is better than Microsoft, it is more compelling to me when they focus more on the arguments 'for' Apple, rather than putting much emphasize on why Microsoft would be so bad." How much more true should this be for more important personal and spiritual issues! If you can't come up with the positive points for whatever it is that you believe, then maybe you should be reconsidering your own position.
   
5. Admit that you might be wrong. A tiny bit of humility goes a long, long way towards reducing contentious communication. Even if it's only the tiniest 0.00000001% chance that you might be wrong on a given topic, just admit it.

What do you think? Any other tips that you might suggest for contending without being contentious? Or do you want to fight me on any of these suggestions. :-)

I should offer the disclaimer that my goal in addressing this topic is not stripping ourselves down to totally non-offensive, vanilla-flavored, non-committal communication! An excessively argumentative attitude is not good, but neither is elusive agnosticism about everything. The extremes can be unhealthy in either direction. I've said before, and I'll say it again: balance is best. But even as I express this wish for balance, I freely admit that I'm hopelessly pastoral in thinking through these things -- even while I appreciate the value of those with strong prophetic gifting. My main hope in laying out these thoughts is to create a dialogue in things like this that allow us to stick closely to the ideal expressed in Ephesians 4, with different people using their different expressions of God's grace "so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ."

Is it possible to contend without being contentious?

Is it possible to write a compelling argument without coming across as being unnecessarily argumentative?

These are questions that are buzzing around in my mind these days. I recently finished reading T. David Gordon's Why Johnny Can't Preach, and I was thoroughly impressed by the information that was presented in the book... but there was something that bothered me about it, and it was only a few days after my final reading that I was able to put my finger on the problem. Despite the excellence of Gordon's material, I feel that its impact was hindered by the authorial tone: a tone which I experienced to be subtly obnoxious.

Now, I've heard that Dr. Gordon can be very pleasant and charming, in-person; so I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt as a person. Nevertheless, without any personal context, it's hard to interpret the way that Gordon builds his argument (albeit an excellent argument) as being anything other than belittling, brow-beating, and curmudgeonly. As far as I can tell, he doesn't even attempt to disguise his disdain for people with different opinions and practices (in this case, people from the emergent church movement and unskilled preachers of all different theological persuasions). And when he makes his points (excellent points though they may be!), he regularly leads into them with words like "clearly," or "obviously" -- and the general tone is such that "any idiot should know this, and if you think otherwise, well, then you're just a dummy." He doesn't say it in so many words, but let me just say that I was able to pick up the cues -- and I'm not even a very intuitive person.

The thing is: it's not just one book by one author. I get this same vibe from a lot of Christians -- preachers, especially. And if I'm irked by it (even though I am both a Christian and a preacher), I can only imagine what people outside the Church must feel in the midst of such contentious communication. To me, one's tone speaks just as much, if not more, than one's words; and I'm just saying that our tone all-too-frequently fails to communicate the message that Jesus said we're really supposed to be sending.

I understand the need to be committed to Truth. I understand the need to argue intelligently and articulately about important issues. And I understand that polarizing and passionately-argued books might sell better than books marked by moderation. Still, I wish for a different way of forming arguments -- with humility and gentleness and empathy. I wish for a way to contend without being contentious -- to present arguments without being argumentative.

My friend J.R. Woodward recently posted a notice that had been posted by his friend J.R. Briggs, who lives in the suburbs of Philadelphia.  The basic idea had apparently been percolating for awhile, but it's only recently taken shape:  to host a conference where pastors can talk about their failures, their identity and their mistakes. The title of the conference is Epic Fail.

I, for one, think it's an absolutely brilliant idea.

I personally will not be able to participate in the conference (as I've already registered for a different conference, during those same dates), but here are the details for those who might:

As Woodward posted on his site, the idea is:

No glossy fliers.  No big marketing budget.  No rental of a large arena –- just a gritty bar that used to be a church (but failed).

Just purposeful space to tell stories, reflect, pray (a lot), eat meals slowly, connect with other pastors (and former pastors), listen to others and take communion. The goal isn’t to host a conference to celebrate ‘success’ – and we aren’t looking to host a conference that celebrates failure either. Our goal is to celebrate faithfulness in ministry, regardless of what the outcome looks like. We’ll have experts on failure telling stories of their own mistakes, sin, gaffes and screw-ups – and they’ll share how God showed up despite the failure. And space to process our own stories and how the gospel intersects at our brokenness.

We anticipate it being hopeful. Rich. Meaningful. Significant.

I don't know how such an event might strike the average "parishioner," but as a pastor I have to say that it sounds like a beautiful initiative.  A refreshingly honest initiative.  I hope it ends up being a great conference for anyone who manages to be there.

If you want more information about the conference, the conference organizers have set up an excellent website which is worth visiting just for the scrolling quotes on the front page.