Home Boys With a White Board

I’ve heard about the Pixars and Googles of the corporate world: companies where employees dress down with or without Fridays and play often yet turn out amazing concepts and excellent execution. Pools and pool tables onsite, massages and lattés for breaks, skateboards and bare feet for inter-office travel.
I have never been in an environment like that, unless you count my basement office. I have the freedom to wear whatever (even nothing, I guess), break as I deem necessary, and even steal from an often-stocked fridge. I take Gatorade breaks and juggle soccer balls up the stairs while on the phone, but I don’t have a group synergy.
3-5 weeks ago I joined the Blue Ridge Community Church design team. Note that I didn’t say committee. There’s no voting, no demagoguery, no Roberts Rules of Order. Of course rarely would there be, even on a secular design squadron. But last Wednesday, I was even invited into a brainstorming & planning session with the teaching team. These are the leaders of the various age groups of the church, including the senior pastor.
It was a bunch of randomness, ideas pouring into others—the group feeding on each idea, taking it the the application, then either incorporating it or jumping to another. I didn’t see or hear egos, just “ooh, I like that!” Khakis or shorts, sandals or sneaks, polos or tees . . . three of us on wireless laptops searching or transcribing or organizing . . . it didn’t look like any leadership meeting that I’ve been a part of since my frat days.
Within an hour, we had scheduled a month’s worth of teaching topics and developed the graphics that would act as mnemonic devices for our congregation. The worship leaders had the framework upon which to build their part of the services, and potential sermon illustrations already bubbled from the speakers.
Then we gathered in prayer around a table, an eclectic bunch of postures and approaches—all very personal, very vulnerable as we brought this specific series to the Throne of Grace. Fellas that had just leaned back jocular in their rolling chairs spoke with reverent tones and honest words. I left feeling part of the group, friends with leaders—my ideas weighed and accepted despite my stranger status.
It got me to thinking about what “church” in America would look like if more churches operated this way. Would 60 Minutes want to interview us? Would the world want to know how we managed to lead without contention? Would the cause of the Gospel benefit? Would assemblies grow like Google and captivate like Pixar?
I wish I knew, but I’m not sure my knowing of the potential would make it so for the tradition-hemmed denominational oligarchy. It’s not my job to change their minds but to contribute to the growing work in which God has placed me. While the fundamentalist fuddy duddies try to figure out why their people are burnt out on brimstone and business meetings, I’ll be upstairs doodling on the white board.