Category: church
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How can suburban churches minister to urban areas?
Some challenging thoughts from Christina Cleveland today:
If we truly saw ourselves as an interdependent body with a shared Head, resources, blood, and life, then suburban churches that want to love on a city wouldn’t do it by expanding their empires across city lines. They would do it by truly sharing their resources, blood and life in service to the Head. Why build a new church building in the city when you can build one for an urban church – in desperate need of a new building– that is already there doing great work? Why hire a new pastor to work at your new urban church plant, when you can give an urban church the resources to make their long-suffering bi-vocational pastor full-time? Why fund a new urban service project when you can fund the urban service projects that people of color have been running tirelessly and effectively on a shoe-string budget for years? The empire says that our church needs to be present in every community, our church has the answers, and our church’s resources are our resources alone. If we follow this path, power dynamics remain unchanged and urban church plantations ensue. The better, more honoring path requires equity – which is costly. Just ask the rich, young ruler. Jesus asked him to reject his empire approach to life, stop being so possessive about his possessions, and join the interdependent family of God.
Powerful stuff.
The proper evangelical attitude toward sinful behavior outside the church
Here’s one for ya this morning:
The proper evangelical attitude toward sinful behavior outside the church should be one of wise resignation and acceptance. There’s no gospel call to change the world into the church by law. In fact, it cannot be done.
Roger Olson, from How to be Evangelical Without Being Conservative.
I find this thought compelling. It seems so backwards to the evangelical ear, and definitely runs afoul of Dominion Theology, but I think Olson is right.
The proper format for a sermon
A good insight here:
…a genuine sermon must begin with the first proclamation, with the proclamation of salvation. There is nothing more solid, deep and sure than this proclamation. Then you have to do catechesis. Then you can draw even a moral consequence. But the proclamation of the saving love of God comes before moral and religious imperatives. Today sometimes it seems that the opposite order is prevailing.
You’ve gotta love this.
First proclaim the gospel, the truth of God’s love and salvation.
Then do your doctrinal teaching.
Then draw a “moral consequence” - the “what to do”.
But get the order right.
This is just one piece of the wisdom from Pope Francis, as documented in this recently-published interview. It’s long, but a remarkable and highly-recommended read.
Does your church have room for me?
What if I don’t have 100% agreement with your doctrinal statement, but still want to be a part of your church?
Does your church have room for me?
What if I’m perfectly willing to accept that you’re not going to change your church’s views just because I disagree?
Does your church have room for me?
What if I don’t know that I want to be at your church for the rest of my life, but that it’s just the right place for right now?
Does your church have room for me?
What if I want to blog about the things I’m wrestling with theologically, even if I’m using things I hear in the sermons as discussion points?
What if I’m not willing to accept the stock answer to the tough question?
What if I think disagreement doesn’t automatically mean disunity?
Does your church have room for me?
What if I’d like to publicly acknowledge that I don’t always (or even usually) vote Republican?
What if I’d like to publicly support things like single-payer healthcare?
What if I want to say publicly that we shouldn’t be demonizing the cause of illegal immigrants?
Does your church have room for me?
On the other hand,
What if I think that the Bible teaches that homosexual behavior is a sin?
What if I believe that God really knows the end from the beginning?
Does your church have room for me?
What if I believe that there is real faith to be found in churches that are very unlike yours? Among trendy Evangelicals, mainline Protestants, wild Pentecostals, and old-school Catholics?
Does your church have room for me?
What if, after all this, I’d like to use my leadership gifts? What if I’m willing to not push for my own position in the 5% where I disagree, but not willing to deny the disagreement?
What if I can teach for years on topics where we are all in blessed agreement, but occasionally will write a personal blog that none of the other leaders will agree with?
Does your church leadership have room for me?
What if all I want is to have a place where I can fellowship, love, and serve, while at the same time being honest about my views and how they are changing over time?
Does your church have room for me?
When church and convictions conflict - a personal follow-up
Yesterday I recommended Ed Cyzewski’s post talking about when church and your personal convictions come into conflict. Today I’d like to follow up by telling my own story.
The Idea
A little over ago my church decided it was time to promote men’s small groups. And the timing seemed great for me. I was coming through a time of spiritual wrangling and frustration, and was convinced that I needed more frequent and better interaction with godly men in my life. Then I found out how it was going to be themed: Band of Brothers.
(This isn’t my church’s actual ministry logo, but it’s close to what was used.)
If I’m objective, I’ve gotta give the planners props for buying in to the theme. The small groups are called “squads”. Each level of the leadership had a “rank”, and the promotional videos showed the leaders wearing fatigues, moving little army men around a map on a planning table. The invitations to various events were titled “Marching Orders”.
I’m pretty sure that the two pastors leading it up weren’t whole-hog into the theme, but the lay leaders who helped with it were, and so it got adopted. The activities were all camping and outdoors themed. They included plans for a “commitment ceremony” taken straight out of a Courageous movie marketing pack.
And I’ll be honest: my first reaction was to squirm.
Why must men’s ministries be focused around shooting/camping/hunting/outdoorsy stuff? Is it really that big a motivator? I’m not a big outdoorsy guy, so maybe I’m just not their target audience. I’m a musician. And a computer geek / engineer. I mean, I also run and play sports and know how to work with my hands, but I’ve never shot anything bigger than a .22 or more alive than a cardboard box.
But I think it was more than discomfort - it was conviction. Conviction that it would be wrong for me to participate in a program that appeared to be focused around all the militaristic trappings that I believe to be unnecessary and at times very unhelpful.
An attempt
After a couple days of mulling it over, I came up with what I thought would be a win-win solution. So I emailed the pastor leading it, explained that I really wanted to be in a small group but couldn’t stomach the militaristic trappings. So, was there room for “conscientious objector” status within the Band of Brothers? (Hey, creative thinking and humor oughta get me somewhere, right?)
The response I got back the next day was unexpectedly infuriating. Sorry, he said, but no. There was no room for “conscientious objectors”. He said it would be “detrimental to squad morale” if all the members weren’t totally committed to all the activities.
And that was that. I was pissed.
Here I am, I thought, trying to participate in a ministry that I know I need, and they won’t let me.
(Did I mention I was angry?)
That was the first time in what was then four years at my church where I seriously thought about looking for someplace else. Fortunately, there’s a better ending to this story.
A redirection
I talked to my wife about it for a while. I talked to another pastor about it. (Yeah, for you scoring at home, that’s the third different pastor mentioned in this story. Our church has five at the moment. Four will appear in this story before it’s done.)
That other pastor told me (very wisely) that he was more worried about my relationship with pastor #1 than he was about the small group thing. (I was appropriately brought down a notch or two.) My wife reminded me that there were other similar options that the church offered that I had, to this point, not pursued. (Down another couple notches.)
So I didn’t sign up for the Band of Brothers. Instead, the next Tuesday morning at 6 AM I came, bleary-eyed and with coffee in hand, to a men’s prayer group / Bible study hosted by our senior pastor. And within 15 minutes I knew I was in the right place.
At age 36 I’m the youngest guy in the Tuesday morning study by almost 10 years. There’s one regular in his 40s, but most are between late 50s and early 70s. Our senior member is a WWII veteran.
The agenda each Tuesday is simple: share requests, pray for each other, and study whatever the sermon text is going to be for the following Sunday. (Whichever activity we start with usually goes long, so we tend to alternate between mostly prayer one week and then mostly study the next week.) The accumulated wisdom in that room each week is deep and vast. I am (mostly) keeping my mouth shut and learning a lot. It’s awesome.
So this fall they’re cranking up the second year of Band of Brothers, and I’m starting my second year of the Tuesday morning study. And I’m at peace that I’ve made the right choice for me, for now.
Some final thoughts
As I reflect on this after a year to cool off, I’ve got some thoughts:
- I still think the militaristic theme is unnecessary. But having not attended any of the events I can’t fairly opine on the ministry any more than that.
- I know that they had far greater numbers of men in the ministry last year than they had expected. If it’s bringing men in and sharpening them, praise God.
- Like Ed said his post: look for ways to participate and serve that don’t confict with your convictions. While they weren’t going to change the men’s ministry just for me (nor should they have), there were other opportunities available if I was willing to seek them out.
- This situation highlights one of the benefits of a larger church: that diversity of opportunities. If this had played out at a smaller church it might well have had a less happy ending.
- Even though I disagree with them at times, I’m hugely blessed to have good pastors and leaders in my church.
When church and convictions conflict
Ed Cyzewski put up a great post yesterday about diversity of churches and ministries and about using your unique giftings to serve God. He tells a couple of stories about his own experience being pulled into churches or ministries that put him at great unease, then follows up with these words which were of great encouragement to me:
You have your own way of interacting with God and with others. Don’t be ashamed of that….
Diversity in church experience doesn’t mean there are those who do it right and those who do it wrong.
Look for the life of God.
Ed manages to strike a good balance between complete “me-focus” and totally ignoring one’s own personality and convictions here:
Sometimes our desires and opinions will lead us astray, prompting us to try to remake the church in our own image. I’ve done that and seen that first hand.
However, in seeking a church community, pay attention to the things that resonate with you. How is God speaking to you? What burdens are on your heart?
God doesn’t give us burdens and desires in order to frustrate us—at least, to frustrate us for the rest of our lives.
Then he brings it home (emphasis mine):
Here’s the key: Church shouldn’t force us to sacrifice our freedom and convictions.
Church should both nurture and provide an outlet for the life that God is building up in us.
Wise words.
Recommended Reading: The Journey of Ministry
Recently I’ve been reading The Journey of Ministry: Insights from a Life of Practice by Fuller seminary professor Dr. Eddie Gibbs. (Thanks go to Gibbs’ son-in-law Brian Auten (a fellow BHT patron whom I’ve had the pleasure to meet once, for far too short a conversation) for pointing it out when it was on sale.) While it seemed to start out a bit slowly, the second half of the book is chock full of good insights on the Western church and its needs in the 21st century.
A couple of choice bits:
The church also needs to multiply points of contact by taking the initiative in becoming involved in all aspects of community life and being seen making a transformative impact. We also need churches small enough for everybody to feel that they are valued, that their questions are welcomed and that they can make a contribution to expand and deepen the various expressions of ministry. The serious challenge we face today in older, traditional denominations and in many independent churches is that our model of church is not easily reproducible. It’s too expensive, consumerist and controlled. It also is increasingly out of step with a networking, relational culture.
A bit later:
The pulpit no longer provides the platform from which the neighboring community and beyond can be addressed. Its message seldom reaches beyond the dwindling ranks of the faithful, and sometimes it even falls on deaf ears in the pews.
Oh, OK, one more:
The preacher must not be allowed to become the sole interpreter of a poem. Turning poetry into prose destroys the power of the medium. It’s like explaining a joke. Poetry needs to be restored to the prophet.
Gibbs’ Chapter 6, ‘Communicating’, on the roles of apostle, prophet, evangelist, teacher, and pastor is worth the price of the book all by itself. Worth reading if you get the chance.
Be careful what you ask for...
So, that guy who complained earlier this week that he was getting a little bored or stale playing keys?
Well, he went to worship band practice this morning and found out that the drummer had called in sick. And while there are drum tracks that can be enabled for most of the songs, there’s one that conspicuously needs a live drummer.
Guess who’s going to be heading in to church extra-early in the morning to practice?
Here’s hoping he doesn’t end up sounding awful. The band deserves better.
Advent... or not
‘Tis the season of Advent, or at least lots of church bloggers are telling me. A time of anticipation, longing, and waiting. Even evangelical churches that aren’t big on use of the church calendar seem to mark out the time for Advent.
It’s curious in a way. We evangelicals don’t observe much of the rest of the traditional church calendar. Christmas? That’s a single day. (That 12 Days of Christmas song is just some weird anachronism.) Pentecost? We remember the story, but don’t mark the day. Lent? Heck no, that’s a weird Catholic thing. Ascension? Is that even a thing we remember?
The churches I grew up in didn’t follow the church calendar, so the only taste I got of it was when visiting my grandparents’ Lutheran church on occasion. 17th Sunday after Pentecost? What the what? It’s not until this past decade as I’ve gained friends in more liturgical denominations that my awareness has been heightened to the greater observance of the calendar. (Kari, for instance, has done some lovely posts on Advent, Lent, and Ordinary Time.)
Seeing how the larger church observes the calendar helps me understand some of the celebrational whiplash that I feel throughout the year. Why do they do Lent for 40 days but then Easter is just one day? Oh, Easter is actually supposed to be celebrated longer than just the day? *lightbulb*
It also helps me explain the dissonance I felt on the first Sunday in December when our church worship kicked off with Angels We Have Heard on High. (It was assuaged briefly this past week when we opened with O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, but quickly returned when we closed the service with Joy to the World!.)
Don’t get me wrong - I love the Christmas hymns. But it does feel like we miss something when we bypass all the anticipation and spread our Jesus-is-born celebration across the whole month of December.
Could it be that the anticipation of Advent is the tension that stretches the boundary between heaven and earth so thin that when we finally do reach Christmas Eve, our hearts can glimpse heaven breaking through?
At the end of Sally Lloyd-Jones’ beautiful Jesus Storybook Bible, she writes about the revelation to John, and she says this:
One day, John knew, Heaven would come down and mend God’s broken world and make it our true, perfect home once again.
And he knew, in some mysterious way that would be hard to explain, that everything was going to be more wonderful for once having been so sad.
In the same way, Advent makes Christmas more wonderful, if only because the heightened anticipation makes us keenly ready to celebrate Jesus’ birth.
Let us anticipate together His coming.
Church and Community
Yesterday on Twitter I had a bit of a conversation with some friends about the relationship of our churches and the related need for community. (Randy archived the conversation on Storify if you’re interested.) In the midst of a discussion about a church “launching”, this exchange occurred:
Afterward, another friend, Jason Blair, mused that this is doing things all backwards.
This is one of those things that in my heart I sense is true, but I’ve not got the faintest idea how it would work out in reality. Let’s imagine, though.
The way it could be
Imagine if we had a small group of families who were bought into the idea of wanting to do community first, and then see how it worked out in practice. And imagine if we took all the time that right now is filled up with church programs, and instead we just existed in community together.
Tuesday morning men’s bible study could still be Tuesday morning bible study, but would be even better focused because it would be between men who were developing real relationships through the week.
Wednesday night dinner and clubs at church could instead be Wednesday night dinner and hang out at somebody’s house. Kids could play, parents could talk. Relationships would grow.
Saturday morning music practice could give way to a chance for dads to hang out with the kids and give the moms a chance to have brunch and time out, or to have a bunch of families get together to work on some project, whether that be to serve one of the families in the group or to serve someplace else in the neighborhood.
Sunday morning could still be a worship gathering, but with less emphasis on programs.
At the end of a year or two of this, you would develop significant relationships that would last a lifetime.
So why don’t we do this?
I know, I know. If it’s so great, why aren’t we doing it already? After all, it’s easy to dream about it on a blog, but in the end I’m still a member of a 400-member church. Why am I such a hypocrite? (Or, to frame it in a way that hurts less: why is this so hard?)
- Inertia. There are significant comfortable aspects to where we are now. We have friends here. Our kids like the programs. It’s easy to just tell people what church you go to rather than explaining something different. Change is hard.
- “Different” is scary. What does this look like initially, especially on Sunday mornings? Are we attending somewhere? Not attending anywhere? What will our friends and family have to say about it? Do we have vestigial legalism that is telling us we need to be at some church building every Sunday morning?
- How do we find like-minded people? I know where I can find one. Problem is, Jason is in the Twin Cities. How do I find such folks in my own city? (If you’re one of them, leave a comment or send me an email or something!)
In the midst of all of this, there’s another nagging question in the back of my head: how does this kind of community-first focus fit with what the church has historically done over the past 2000 years? Is it closer to the ages-long norm than what we’re doing today?
I clearly still have more questions here than answers, but I’m pretty sure that Jason has it right: doing “church” first, and then fighting like crazy to try to build community sure seems backwards.