@ Sea With Justin Mcroberts

So I've been really enjoying this new feature of the podcast, taking a question from my Monday q&a sessions at Instagram, and digging just a tad deeper into one of those questions, specifically, those questions when you seem to resonate with those questions and my response. This past week, I got a question that I've been around and asked a lot as a question by somebody who asked "Why do churches struggle with attendance?"  It's like I said; it's a question I've been around for a long time. I pastored or helped pastor church for 20 years, and questions about attendance and why people show up or why they don't show up. Pretty regular, comprehensive conversation, especially as time went on. At some point during my tenure as a church staff person, we were looking at numbers gathered by experts in church culture, church attendance, etc. And the numbers that jumped out to us were that while the population of the United States of America had grown by something like 11%, church attendance had fallen off by someth

You've probably had the bad experience that I had recently, that I'm about to tell you a story about, in which when your mind is already focused on something. You're already thinking about something regularly, and you start noticing it or connections to it everywhere. That happened the other night while I was reading a book to my daughter to help get her to sleep. I am in the process of editing and finishing this book called Sacred Strides, which will come out in 2023, about belovedness, about discovering my belovedness through both rest and work. My daughter, who's five right now, picked a pair of stories for me to read. And one of those stories was Lobos Classic Collection, The Adventures of Frog and Toad. I don't know how familiar you are with the stories, but they're brilliant. They're hilarious. They're well written, and there's wisdom in the stories that sneaks up and pinches me every once in a while, including this moment. So the story specifically is called the garden. And in that story, Toad notices

I want to spend a few moments dissecting and maybe even dismantling this phrase. This idea that comes up in coaching conversations and has come up for a long, long time. In my 20-plus years in pastoral ministry as an artist and is the phrase work-life balance. I've got a lot of issues with this. And not just theoretical, but more so as a practical reality. So I'll start where I'm going to end and basically say that there is no such thing as a work-life balance, and more to the point, that the ideas that lead us to talk about work-life balance are not just toxic, they're destructive, and they're anti-human. So, I don't like the phrase. First of all, because it puts a line somewhere between work and life as if there's this thing called life that we're living. And that work is a thing that gets in the way of life; I've actually had conversations with artist friends who will actually flip this terminology on its head. And they'll talk about how life gets in the way of work. And what has been meant by that? And wa

Mike Edel is a very talented singer, songwriter, and producer from Canada. And full disclosure a dear friend of mine, he's also which is a gift to me, a client. He's someone I've had the privilege of coaching over the last couple of years. And as I am with many of my clients, I'm really proud of the work they do, the work they've done. And the way they have over the course of last year and a half to two years navigated the COVID-19 pandemic. It's been a tough time to be an artist. In the early spring of 2001, Mike was touring down the West Coast, in a van with his wife, and they popped in here actually, in my neighborhood hung out with my kids. And we had a great afternoon. And we recorded this conversation that was about navigating COVID as an artist that was about navigating life, post marriage as an artist, and because of this was just then pregnant about navigating life as an artist, with a child in tow and incoming and all the complications, and difficulties and opportunities that come with all those thi

Last week, I introduced a new element to the podcast; namely, bringing part of my Instagram Q&A sessions to this space and providing a longer answer to some of the deeper or, in my opinion, more pressing questions.On Monday, during the Q&A, this question really stuck out to me:“How do we manage over-pouring ourselves when there is an unending well available?”It might be worth noting here, particularly for listeners who aren’t as familiar with some religious terminologies, that this “ unending well“ is a reference to some of the teachings of Jesus in which he promises a kind of well within those who follow him and know him. For instance in John chapter 4, Jesus says “whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become a spring of water welling up to eternal life.“Now, while the dilemma of giving oneself away “too much“ isn’t just a consideration for the religious, I think that Jesus‘s teachings here have quite a bit to say, which I’ll come back around to.The

Part of how I answered the question on Instagram was to say that it depends on what my priorities are. Here’s what I mean: “Church,” as I understand it, is largely a way to intentionally practice the Divine gift of life with other people. Certainly, there are facets of regular church attendance that means I can “worship” God, particularly in music and that I can learn or be taught. I also get to join other people in efforts to act justly in the world. But those aspects of what we’ve called “church” over the past 40-70 years at least are pretty accessible without regularly gathering with the same people. Which is to say, I think the thing that makes “going to Chruch” irreplaceable (if it is) is that I can create a stainable and predictable life pattern with people withwhom I want to do those things; to worship God with these particular people or learn and be taught with and by these particular people, to do justice with these particular people.So, if it’s the people part of going to Church that is irreplaceabl

My son and I recently went to see the most recent Marvel release. It's a movie about Dr. Strange. He's one of the primary characters in the Marvel Universe. And he is, according to his title, a master of the Mystic Arts, which begs a little bit of a question about what mystic is. See in the films, him being the master of mystic arts is manifested in the ability to open portals to different universes or cast spells that send power waves that knock over buildings or enemies. My son and I had a really interesting conversation about mysticism and religion and spirituality and what makes it thing spiritual and what makes a thing mystic, after the film, I found myself referring to things that I discussed with Kevin Sweeney. During this conversation you're about to hear, Kevin's book, The Making of a Mystic is a really interesting take on his journey towards mysticism, and his practice of those things that we might call or might not call depending on who you are. mystical. I think you will enjoy this conversation. I

While the experiences of displacement and disorientation play such a significant role in conversations about cultural place, institutional belonging, and even interpersonal relationship. I am moved and inspired not only by the stories of those who endure and triumph over that sense of displacement or dislocation but in fact sometimes even choose displacement and the adventure of relocation in order to awaken some kind of new spirit in them and in the world around them. My guest Natalie Toon Patten is one such person who has been removed who's been displaced, has been in fact cast out from certain cultures, and then has chosen the adventure of relocation in order to readjust, replace, reroute, and reorient herself to a world in which she longs to belong and create belonging or a sense of belonging for others. I enjoyed our conversation and I think you will too. Check it out.

For a number of years, my favorite event in the country was The Festival of Faith and Music in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The festival host, a gentleman named Ken Hefner would stand up in front of headlining artists' audiences and challenge those audiences to be as prepared for the show, as the band that we were about to see. He would say, "That you would expect this band to have brought their A-game with regard to performance. I'm asking you if you brought your A-game with regards to listening." Stephen Covey, who's the writer of the book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People is quoted as saying that most people do not listen with the intent to understand they listen with the intent to reply. You've been in those conversations when the person listening to you is really just paying attention so that they can say what they've already planned on saying, along with people like Ken Hefner, John J. Thompson has spent the lion's share of his career trying to and coaching people to listen differently. Beyond trying

One of my favorite characters in all of literature is from a Dostoevsky novel called The Brothers Karamazov.  The character's name is Father Zosima. Father Zosima doles out wisdom throughout the course of the book and its particular instance stands out to me, it's one of the moments that solidifies him as a favorite character. He's counseling. a congregant, who is not just detached from and losing touch with theologically, a sense for the resurrection or even the embodied incarnation of Jesus, but is lamenting that loss. She's no longer believing that God became a human being was crucified, was raised from the dead, and she's lamenting this loss as a personal one in her life. And Father Zosima, instead of prescribing some sort of a theological treaty, some sort of book, some sort of study, or even prayer. When she says, "What should I do about this lack of faith in Jesus, and the resurrection", he says, "Feed the poor". That's confounding in some ways. And on the other side of the coin, it is revelatory and b

One of the surprising benefits changes fruits in me, that have come from partnering with folks who work in the anti trafficking world has been a different understanding and a deeper understanding what it means to live in the body, or in a body. For instance, partnering with Amy Lynch here in the San Francisco Bay Area, who through her organization helps to create pathways to healing for girls who've been rescued out of trafficking. One of the things she said during our conversations was that there are things that happen in the human body joys and traumas that can't be thought through. They can't be reasoned through, they can really only be worked out bodily. Which brings me to the subject of dance. I got the gift and privilege of seeing Camille Sutton, choreograph and dance at The Breath in the Clay a couple years ago. And I was moved not just by her performance and by her choreography, but by the way, the room was simply arrested, captured and challenged to pay attention in a way that music, movies or any ot

A few episodes ago, I shared a short story about being what I called misnamed at an event. The organizer called me a singer/songwriter when I was there to speak. Now, part of that setup for me emotionally was I was actually in the process of reinventing. I had been playing music for many, many years. And I had been speaking a little bit at the time but paying attention to what was going on in me, honoring what was happening in me, and honoring the things that people around me were responding to. I recognized that I was in a moment of reinvention. The one side of that story that I told him was that I wanted to be called something else, I wanted to be called an author, I wanted to be called a speaker instead of a singer-songwriter. Well, there's another side to that. Because sometimes that reinvention process, and sometimes those reinvention moments or seasons come with a bit of grief. And that for two reasons. Maybe there was part of who I was before, how I functioned before what I did before, even primarily d

Reinvention is one of the hallmarks of a long-term career as an artist. The ability and the desire, the capacity to take something that used to work a certain way during a certain season and do something new, something different with that same material with that same pattern with those same skills. One of the things I've admired about Christa Wells, in her career is her ability and her capacity to not just reinvent as a writer, a songwriter, a podcaster as a guide, but to do so in a way that paves the way and sets an example for other artists to do the same. I really enjoyed my conversation with her sitting down in Nashville. I think you will too.Check it out.

In the introduction to last week’s episode, I mentioned that in the years I spent as a pastor in an evangelical setting, the conversation about the place of LGBTQ folks in a local church was a regular and often difficult one. That the Biblical image I kept coming back to was of Moses and his people stuck between the uncrossable waters in front of them and the violent forces behind them. The tensions felt are often theological and institutional. But the cost, the main cost, was and is personal. Yes, I saw pastors lose their jobs and I saw a flood of people leave congregations they loved or stay in congregations in which they felt deep sadness and stress. I lost friends, too. And because that cost was and is so personal, my thoughts and feelings about what’s at hand in this conversation started to evolve and change and, in some way, clarify. Are there institutional and theological steps to be taken and moves to be made? Yes? But I’ve never felt it was an agreement that was what actually held healthy communities

During my time as a pastor in the Evangelical Covenant Church, I was in an ongoing conversation about the relationship between LGBTQ folks and local churches. And over the years, regardless of all the different kinds of settings in which that conversation was happening, it kept bringing me back to this very particular biblical imagery. Moses and his people were on the edge of a body of water that they could not safely cross with the armies of Egypt, bearing down on them from behind an impossibility. Any change necessary for a peaceful, free future was just off the table, something very new, something not just unprecedented, but unexpected and very unlikely would need to happen. It has pretty much always felt that same way to me in the institutional conversation about sexuality and gender and identity, and communal religious practice, that any change necessary in order for a peaceful, connected communal future, to be possible just seemed off the table. For that reason, then for several years, I've turned my at

Hello, and welcome to episode 100 of the @Sea podcast. We launched this thing on April 30th, 2016. And 100 episodes later, here we are. I want to pause right here at Episode 100; you do a couple of things, two things very specifically. The first one is simply to say thank you, thank you for listening for paying attention, I do not take for granted at all, not for a moment, that you offer your attention your time to this podcast, anything that I do, but specifically today, this podcast, thank you for paying attention. If you are a patron, doubly Thank you, because not only your attention but your actual contributions make it possible for me to do this, to take care of equipment costs, and also to free up the time it takes me to invest in these conversations, to do the research, I am enriched by this work. And your support allows me to continue to enter into it. So thank you very, very, very much. Thank you also, and very specifically to Dan Portnoy, who is the producer of this episode, and really the vast majo

A few years ago, I was invited to participate in this event. I don't remember what the event was, as a speaker, I was there to story tell, tell some stories and teach. And when the organizer introduced me, he said singer, songwriter, musician, Justin McRoberts. And I remember like, I wasn't mad, but I remember feeling like misnamed, or, like, I wasn't even offended, but like, it just didn't feel right. His context for me has had been music like he listened to a lot of my music growing up, and, and that's how he came to the knowledge of Me. And so even though I was there, to do something other than music, I didn't even have my guitar. He recognized me contextually, as a singer-songwriter. I wanted him to call me an author. I was like after my second book was published, I was like, I wanted him to call me an author, speaker. But he saw me differently. I think that discomfort is at least part of what happens at times in relationship to tools, like the INIA Graham, that there is a fear there's a discomfort, there

Whether you are a kid or you have kids, or you like kids, or you were a kid, or whatever, I think you're gonna like this project and the songs on it and you can pick it up from us directly at www.thedudeandthebird.bandcamp.com or beginning February 22, you can listen to it and all your favorite streaming services. Check it out.

Oh, the enneagram. It is, like many tools, so often misused or misapplied. It feels to me that a lot of folks are stuck between some form of infatuation with the tools or their type and some form of annoying disdain with the whole thing.I’m not a fan of the enneagram. Not the way people are fans of the Boston Red Sox or Manchester United. I like what I see happen in the lives of people who Jim Gum is a certified teacher of the Narrative Enneagram. There are many approaches to the study and application of the tool and, having worked with Jim in a few settings, I really appreciate his take. Specifically, Jim introduced me to the idea that knowing myself by way of the enneagram is ultimately about knowing my type; it’s about transcending my type and knowing myself as a whole. We cover a lot of ground in this conversation. I think you’ll dig it.

Sometimes what looks like compromise is not compromise at all. Sometimes it’s the hard choice to be a constant and a light in a shady and unstable environment. And sometimes it means being the one willing to be humbled and be wrong and change and grow in a stuck and calcified culture. I remember, after a few years working within a religious institution and experiencing the disillusionment that often associated the end of an institutional season, I started to believe that the most courageous and just thing to do when corruption or institutional failure reared its ugly head, was to leave; to walk away from relationships and organizations and systems I felt were broken or wrong. And sometimes that’s true; sometimes saying “I can’t be here if things are going to be this way,” is the best and right and most fruitful move. But sometimes it’s not.I was deeply moved by artist Propaganda’s recent reflection about sitting at the table with institutional power and remaining in relationship to an organization rife with l