Jason Barnhart, my friend and partner-in-ministry is blogging about the different presentations we experienced at the Q Conference in Austin in late April. I am jumping in the conversation by adding a second generation of thoughts and responses as he goes through the different topics. Think of this as the missing scenes or producer’s commentary on a DVD. Consider these the liner notes to Jason’s “music” about Q.

This first post is a bit more about Q and its context…

The Q Conference is organized by Fermi Project. Fermi is “a broad collective of innovators, artists, social entrepreneurs, church and societal leaders experimenting with ways to advance the common good in culture. The focus of this project is strategically placed on Christians and leaders throughout the Church. Multiple mediums are leveraged to push forward the essence of this project, including events, research, essays, films, books and culture shaping projects.” By clicking here, and coughing up your email address, you can download an essay, Influencing Culture: An Opportunity for the Church, developed by Gabe Lyons, Founder of Fermi Project.

The annual Q conference is a convergence of these innovators, artists, social entrepreneurs, church and societal leaders, who share a large scale brain-dump of ideas, dreams and methods for influencing culture.  The trademark of Q Conferences is their 18 minute time limit on almost all presentations.  This makes each session concise and limits the distracting sermonizing and self-aggrandizing that often accompanies conferences.  Other unique characteristics of Q are the relatively small group of attenders (350 -400?), the absolute resistance to Christian celebrity status for presenters, and the very low key, minimalist attention to worship (this year, David Crowder spoke, but didn’t sing. David Hodges, former  member of Evanescence, led worship from the side of the stage, plunking on a keyboard and singing softly. No one was asked to stand or sing louder…).

The Q Conference has convened for three years. Q organizers try to select venues that represent cultural significance in the cities that are culturally significant.  The first was in Atlanta, last year we attended the conference in New York City, this year we descended on Austin.

Q organizer, Gabe Lyons, explains why they chose Austin this year:

“There are just so many reasons. For starters, how about the music scene? Over 200 live music venues that bustle every night with jazz, folk, country, or rock make Austin the Live Music Capital of the World. And the food? It’s hard to top the mouth-watering beef brisket or authentic Tex-Mex you can find on almost any corner. The reasons for choosing Austin could go on: the largest university in the U.S. (go Longhorns!), flourishing arts and film industry, significant high-tech culture, influential political arena, and world-class environmental awareness. All in all, Austin is the perfect city for Q.

It’s also a city that hasn’t gotten too big. In fact, Austin is probably more like the place you live than L.A., Chicago, or New York City ever will be. It boasts no professional sports team and lives in the shadow of the much bigger Dallas, Houston, and San Antonio areas. Moreover, Austinites are trying to figure out how to grow a city well, how to maintain creative culture, and how to make suburban life feel, well, not so suburban. Perhaps the slogan of the city says it all: “Keep Austin Weird.” It’s against that backdrop – a city seeking to maintain and re-express the heart of its identity – that Q 2009 comes to Austin. It’s our prayer that as we gather there, new ideas and fresh expressions of the gospel will be born and cultivated among us.”

So, we arrived in Austin, and as we pulled up to the Paramount Theater, Q’s meeting place in Austin, I was smacked by maybe the most profound moment of the conference.  In front of the theater was a bench. On one end of the bench were two Q participants, drinking Starbucks and going through their participant’s gift bags which were stuffed with books, coffee, a water bottle and other hip booty.  Sitting on the other end of the bench was a lonesome looking homeless man half-shielded from the morning chill by a blue sleeping bag and hoodie.  Seperating Homeless Man from Q Men on the bench was a plastic bag with all of Homeless Man’s possessions in it, along with a gulf of difference and indifference that prevented even a shred of interaction to occur. The ends of the bench could have been ends of the world.  It was a sight symbolic of the church’s struggle to be influential in a world that has drastically lowered its expectations for us to be of any good. It was an irony that seemed lost on too many people at the conference.

This is the context that we gathered in and in which we live in this place and time. Hopefully these scattered points of interest will help bring the test-tube world of Q to the streets where you live.