theeffect Podcasts

Dave Brisbin | 4.8.18

Moving past the Resurrection and anticipating the spiritual filling of Pentecost fifty days later, is there a model for the shape our days if we’re living a spiritually aware lifestyle? What does that look like? Jesus teaches and demonstrates all through the Gospels of course, but the nation of Israel itself shows most clearly the ideal of what day to day conscious connection to God looks like. Leaving Egypt, Moses establishes a law that takes Israel out of the death and next world obsession of Egypt and places all the emphasis on immersion in this world, herenow. And perhaps more to the point, the promised land the Hebrews eventually occupy in Canaan had no major river or natural water source that would support irrigation and agriculture as Egypt had. Israel had to rely on its annual rains, the Yoreh and Malkosh, the early and latter rains that fell in fall and spring and without which there was no sustenance. You can harness the flow of a river, but not the rains. To be completely dependent on the heavens, on God in heaven, to be deeply connected and aware of the movement of wind and weather herenow, to pray humbly for provision while working hard in preparation and celebrating gratefully for the blessing of the rains captures the post-Pentecost lifestyle as well as can be.

Dave Brisbin | 4.1.18

There is one detail in the post resurrection accounts of Jesus appearing to his closest friends and followers that is common to all of them, and yet this detail hasn’t gotten much airplay or consideration in terms of what it may mean to us who are still trying to follow Jesus so long after that first resurrection Sunday. None of the friends and followers to whom Jesus appeared after his crucifixion recognized him at first. This seems utterly impossible, if you think about it. How could they not recognize him? Mary, as close as she was to Jesus, loving him as she did, doesn’t recognize him standing right in front of her by the tomb until he calls her name. The Emmaus travelers walk the entire trip and get halfway through supper before they realize who he is. Peter and the fisherman don’t recognize him on the shore until they pull in an impossible catch of fish. Did he look physically different? Some sort of cloaking miracle? The Gospels are only as important as they are relevant to our lives right here and now, and right here and now these Gospels are telling us that we are all limited to seeing what we expect to see, what we believe is possible to see. They are telling us that even those who walked with Jesus, had to have their limiting beliefs broken down before they could see the truth right before their eyes. Are we any different?

Dave Brisbin | 3.25.18

On Palm Sunday, what is the importance of the details of Jesus’ big entrance into Jerusalem that kicked off what turned out to be his last week before crucifixion? Do we focus on historical facts that occurred nearly 2,000 years ago or on spiritual truths as immediate as our next breath? Standing behind all the historical details are rich symbolic truths that point us in an inescapable direction: that Jesus was not coming as a conquering national hero, but a humble, spiritual servant of anyone and everyone in his path. But of the four main groups of people watching him ride by on the colt of a donkey, none saw who he really was. Each group saw what they wanted to see, colored by their needs and ambitions: a warrior messiah set to overturn the Roman occupation, threat to power and tax bases, the chance to rise to relevance and power... Shortly before all this, Jesus asks his closest friends: “Who do you say that I am?” That is still the central question today for anyone who sets off to follow Jesus. Are we just looking through our own need and ambition, or are willing to go through the painful, risky process of letting all that go so we can see who Jesus is emphatically telling us he is. And are willing to let that truth change us radically from the inside out?

Dave Brisbin | 3.18.18

The central question for any who calls themselves Christian or a follower of Jesus has to be the one Jesus asks his followers--and by extension all of us--in Mark 8, “Who do you say that I am?” The question has as many answers as there are followers most likely, but how do we come to the best answer that we can muster as a group? Leonard Sweet comes to our rescue with the term EPIC, which for him is an acronym standing for Experiential, Participatory, Image-based, and Communal. He has said that this is the way the youngest generations among us process information as opposed the older generations of the Modern world who are Propositional, Representational, Word-based, and Individualistic. The differences are profound in terms of worldview and attitude toward life, but the immense relevance really hits home, when we realize that the ancient peoples who wrote our scriptures were EPIC too. Our interpretation of ancient, EPIC scripture has been arrived at through anti-EPIC glasses and has been colored by attitudes and beliefs alien to the writing. If we are going to answer the central question of Jesus’ identity, we first have to tackle how it is we are asking and the means by which we ask.

During our grand opening celebration for our new San Clemente location, we took time to have several effect members talk about their personal journeys leading them to theeffect and beyond. The stories are classic tales of spiritual transition and community. Also, the family of one of our founders who recently passed was on hand to present a portrait of him for our facility.

Dave Brisbin | 3.11.18

On the fourth Sunday of Lent, trying to re-imagine Lent as time of sensory deprivation in order to clear away all that distracts and obscures God’s face, if we’ve begun practicing moment by moment awareness, if we’ve begun to confront our limiting beliefs and obsessive behavior patterns and become willing to overturn those interior tables, what truth starts to become apparent? Jesus gives us a big clue traditionally read on Maundy Thursday of Holy Week. During the Last Supper, he strips off his mantle and tunic, wraps a towel around himself and kneels in front of each of his friends to wash feet. It’s hard for us as modern Westerners to comprehend the full scope of this outrageous action, or to understand Peter’s violent reaction. But Jesus is showing us something absolutely profound, something we have to be prepared to see, as Peter and the rest of the room as yet were not. By showing as radically and graphically as possible that he was an unassuming, humble, servant leader, Jesus--as one and the same with the Father--is trying to convey that our God, the creator of heaven and earth, is also an unassuming, humble, servant leader who lives to serve us…to kneel and wash our feet. If we, like Peter, are outraged by this image of God, then we need to spend more time seeing what things look like from kneeling height.

Dave Brisbin | 3.4.18

On the third Sunday of Lent, continuing to look at how taking Lent seriously as a time of clearing away all that distracts and obscures the truth of our lives…after we commit to the process of increasing awareness moment by moment, what’s next? As we become more aware of our emotions and emotional triggers, thought and behavioral patterns, as we begin to see ourselves as with a third eye moving and choosing and relating based on whatever has become our worldview to date—what are we going to do with that information? If our thought and behavior patterns are healthy, creating healthy relationships, then nothing of course. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. But if not, then just as Jesus did in the Jerusalem temple, are we willing to overturn the tables of our own ingrained beliefs in order to rearrange a life that has become unable to produce the fruit of its design? Make it once again resemble its original promise? That is the lesson of cleansing of the temple and cursing of the fig tree, and Jesus’ challenge to us. If we’re not willing to overturn our own carefully placed tables, then all the awareness in the world avails nothing.

Dave Brisbin | 2.18.18

On the first Sunday of Lent, how do we learn about this 40 day journey to Easter from the tradition of liturgy? Each day of Holy Week, from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday has passages from the Gospels embedded that can help us prepare for the new life of Easter if we’re paying attention. Looking at the passage traditionally read on Palm Sunday, as Jesus is entering Jerusalem before the crucifixion, he tells those who are trying to silence the cheering crowd that even if these were silent, the rocks would cry out. What can we learn from singing rocks? That all creation is an unceasing expression of truth? That if we can learn to become still and silent inside, that we will be able to hear the music playing through each moment? Paul calls this sort of interior attitude unceasing prayer, and at 1Thessalonians 5, gives us not one, but three directives that if understood properly and practiced consistently, will transform the quality of our most basic relationships and take us a long way toward the rebirth of resurrection.

Dave Brisbin | 2.11.18

Lent is upon us. Already. Again. What do we really know about Lent? For those of us who grew up in liturgical churches, what we learned may have had little to do with the traditions that established Lent, and what we remember now, may even subvert those ancient intentions. What does the word Lent mean? Why 40 days and how was Lent initially used in early church life? What traditions like Pancake Day, Mardi Gras, and Ash Wednesday have sprung up around it and what is their significance? But most importantly, how can we understand and even reimagine Lent to take us on a 40 day journey to the new life of Easter? If Lent became a time of fasting and deprivation as penance for sin, can we use Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness as model to begin to see Lent as deprivation for the purpose of clearing away all that distracts from the Presence that will bring new life on Easter? Because just as Jesus’ first followers continued to look for the living among the dead, we need to practice new ways of listening and seeing that will allow us to look for new life, rebirth, where it really lives.

Dave Brisbin | 2.4.18

Once we begin to get a new notion of the Father’s love, we are immediately assailed with all the reasons why not, why it couldn’t be so, that something that seems to be this good, it just can’t possibly be. And so we need to protect the love—not the love itself; it needs no protecting as the first and most durable substance in the universe, but we do need to protect our convictions. Traumatic and challenging life events will chip away, difficult relationships, betrayals, abandonments, religious practice and doctrine, and even scripture itself make Father look like unconditional love at certain points and something else in others. How do we navigate all this? How do we read our scriptures in such a way that Father’s love remains in our hearts exactly as Jesus said it was? Taking sample passages from Paul’s letter to the Galatians and first letter to the Corinthians, we see how the Father’s love stands firm even in the face of passages that seem to directly refute it and can always remain for us what defines kingdom and the truth that makes us free.