personal
- Worked late both days
- Read a book while eating out at my favorite restaurant one night
- Take-and-bake pizza the second night (hey, I got to choose the toppings I wanted!)
- Rented two DVDs from the local video store and proceeded to watch other movies on Netflix instead
- Ran the local 8k. Didn’t set any time records.
- At home: finished the laundry and cleaned the bathroom.
- Mowed the lawn
- Finished tearing out the chain link fence on the west side of the yard
- Filled in all the holes left from ripping out the fence posts
- Filled four lawn bags with garden weeds
- Washed the dishes
- Ate a really yummy dinner of grilled chicken and roast potatoes
- Strongly considered taking a nap beforzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…
- Royal Caribbean cruise itineraries and payment receipts
- Hudl.com notifications
- Follow-up emails from car dealers saying “thanks for test driving, let’s talk!”
- Survey requests
- 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.
Thoughts on Brian Zahnd and Word of Life Church
As a follow-up to yesterday’s post about Prayer School I wanted to spend a little bit of time discussing Pastor Brian and Word of Life Church (WOLC) directly. As someone who has really enjoyed Brian’s teaching via podcast, one of the questions I went in to the weekend asking myself was “If I lived in St. Joseph, could I find myself attending this church?” And right behind it was asking like I have about many guys I’ve listened to in podcasts: “is this guy and his ministry legit?”
So, about the church
I had a couple opportunities over the weekend to get insight into the church. At the lunch hour on Friday we were invited to take a tour of the building. Then on Friday night we had the opportunity to attend their regular Friday night service.
The building itself seems to speak to the history of Zahnd and WOLC. The auditorium is huge - it seats somewhere north of 2000 people - and there is a separate multi-purpose auditorium where they hold Friday night worship. The other notable feature is “The Upper Room”, a (ground-level) prayer chapel made of Jerusalem limestone that seats about 50. (This is where the prayer school was held.)
When we got a tour, we got the full tour. We saw backstage areas, back hallways, tech rooms, utility closets, the pastor’s study - pretty much everything. We were told they have built the church in several sections over the years. The building has a quality of fading opulence which likely reflects Zahnd’s own personal move from a sort of flashier Pentecostalism (a role which you can easily enough picture him in) to a more eclectic Anabaptism. The tech room holds the same message - full of video production equipment that was state-of-the-art in the early 90’s and basically obsolete today. (At one point the church’s Sunday services were produced for cable TV - that was discontinued some years ago due to the cost.) It seems clear that Zahnd’s new focus and approach likely caused a significant drop in attendance and budget, and WOLC has had to do a sort of fiscal reset to go in the new direction.
About the man
With the rise and fall of so many celebrity preachers, I came in wondering whether Zahnd might be falling into the celebrity trap, too. On this count I was encouraged. On one hand, WOLC is clearly his church. He planted it over 30 years ago and continues to pastor it today. On the other hand, the other church leaders and members didn’t seem to have him on a pedestal. He comfortably mingled with the prayer school attendees during breaks and answered questions. He could seem aloof from time to time, but I’m going to attribute that to personality and the burden of teaching all weekend. (Two sessions Friday, sermon Friday night, session Saturday morning, different sermon on Sunday morning… I’d be tired, too!) While I didn’t have more than a passing conversation with him, I did have a lengthy talk with associate pastor Derek Vreeland, an energetic and slightly younger guy (probably mid 40s) who seemed to be very much his own man and not in Zahnd’s shadow.
The one place that made me just a bit uneasy was the pastor’s study. Compared to the rest of the staff offices that are nice but not fancy, Zahnd’s study is plush. Two rooms, fireplace, leather chairs, built-in bookshelves from floor to ceiling, fancy rug on the floor… don’t get me wrong, I was a little jealous, but it did seem somewhat out of character with the rest of the building. I’m guessing that it, too, is a relic of WOLC’s Pentecostal incarnation and maybe not reflective of their current priorities.
Could I worship there?
I recognize this is a very subjective question. I really appreciated the fact that they scheduled the prayer school so that attendees could also attend the Friday night service. (Many came from several hours away and stayed for the full weekend, attending the Sunday service as well.) It was, as Brian said, a chance to get “the full WOLC experience”.
The structure of the Friday night service wasn’t unfamiliar to me - the same sort of songs, announcements, greeting, and offering that you’d find in any typical evangelical church service. Sprinkled into the service, though, were some more ancient elements of liturgy - use of the Lord’s Prayer, a longer Gospel reading, a prayer from the Book of Common Prayer, and corporate confession before Communion.
The music was pretty loud and the congregation still fairly charismatic - lots of hands in the air and people bouncing on the balls of their feet, clapping between songs. The songs themselves were (save for one) unfamiliar to me - I’m guessing they are original songs by the church worship leader. The content of the songs was really good, though focused differently than I’m used to. To say that Zahnd is not a fan of penal substitutionary atonement is an understatement, so you won’t find songs here about Jesus' blood paying for your sins. There were many, though, about God’s love and mercy, and His desire for righteousness and justice. The songs were good, just different than what I’m used to.
The highlight of the service was the invitation to the Lord’s Supper after the sermon. Zahnd’s usual pattern is to wrap the sermon up in a way that leads to the table. He leads the congregation in corporate confession (straight from the BCP) and then invites the congregation to come forward and partake. There was one serving team for each section of seats, and ushers dismissed by rows to provide some order. I appreciated the egalitarian focus in the teams serving - for each seating section there was a man and a woman serving. In the middle section where I was seated, Pastor Brian’s wife Peri served the bread (“the body of Christ, broken for you”) and Brian held the cup (“the blood of Christ shed for you”). I’m also a huge fan of communion taken by congregants going forward rather than trays being served, both for the communal experience of going forward and for the powerful moment where someone looks you in the eye and reminds you that Christ’s body was broken for you.
So, could I attend WOLC? I don’t know. If I lived there and it were just me, I probably would. I’m not sure my wife would be a big fan, and have no idea what all they have for children’s ministries and the like. But just on the basis of the worship service? Yep.
Is this guy legit?
On one hand it seems arrogant of me to ask and answer this question. But I’m going to try to do so from a posture of humility, with the goal being to encourage those others who have become fans of Zahnd from afar and may have similar questions. Happily, I can report that from my (admittedly brief) experience at WOLC, Pastor Brian’s ministry appears to be legit and healthy. (To still be the pastor after 35 years and a major theological shift, he must be doing something right!) While the building itself holds vestiges of obsolete ministry priorities, the new ministry priorities seem well focused on important topics.
All in all, I was very encouraged by my weekend at Word of Life Church, and would love to go back sometime. Meanwhile, I’m going to keep Zahnd’s sermons cued up in my podcast app.
Brian Zahnd's Prayer School
A month ago I had the opportunity to attend the Prayer School weekend taught by Brian Zahnd at Word of Life Church in St. Joseph, MO. I’ve intended to write up some thoughts on it ever since, but maybe it’s been good to let things percolate a little while first. So many thoughts.
First, a little bit about Brian, since it’s hard for me to separate him from the prayer school. I found Brian through his sermon podcast, which I’ve listened to fairly regularly for a little over a year now. His story includes planting a Pentecostal church in his 20s, seeing it grow successfully, hitting something of a mid-life faith crisis in his 40s, whereupon he took a harder, broader look at theology. His teaching retains pieces of his charismatic background while embracing liturgy (“good liturgy”, he would say), the Book of Common Prayer, pacifism, and a strong sense of progressive revelation. He details this story in his recent book Water to Wine, which I’d happily recommend as, if nothing else, a wonderful faith story.
In this post I’m going to share my thoughts directly about the prayer school; in a future post I want to follow up with a few thoughts about Zahnd and Word of Life church directly, since I got the feeling many attending, and probably many who have read his books or listened to the podcast, are curious about the man and his ministry.
Prayer School
[Initial note: Brian only teaches these classes in person - no recordings are distributed. He says he believes it’s something that should be passed along as ‘secrets’ from person to person. I’ll respect that and not go into tremendous detail. However, there’s nothing too unfamiliar there if you’ve listened to his podcast over the past year or so.]
Zahnd organizes the prayer school into three sessions, held Friday morning, Friday afternoon, and Saturday morning. (Word of Life Church holds a regular Friday night service which we were also encouraged to attend.) Through those sessions he teaches (and models) prayer not as “getting God to do what you want” but as a way to be “properly formed”.
He encourages the use of prayers that have been written through church history both as good prayers that allow us to learn from our forefathers, and as ways to teach us to pray better when we pray extemporaneously. Brian uses a musical metaphor likening these rote prayers to a guitarist practicing scales. You don’t always play just the scales, he says, but if you haven’t practiced your scales over and over, when you get to play the second verse guitar solo, you’re not gonna do very well.
In the final session Brian talks about contemplative prayer, which he likes to call “sitting with Jesus”. (He’s preached sermons with similar titles if you’re really curious.) For this topic he draws on a long line of contemplatives in the spirit of Thomas Merton.
The whole class is structured around a morning liturgy of prayer which he challenges everyone to try for 6 weeks. It includes daily Bible readings, weekly prayers from the BCP, rote prayers including that of St. Francis, and time for personal petition and contemplation.
Thoughts
A good bit of what drew me to attend the prayer school in the first place was this seemingly odd combination of liturgy, old prayers, and contemplation. What a mix! And in that I wasn’t disappointed. Zahnd is a talented teacher, though if I were going to try to describe his personality and approach I might start by referencing some Old Testament prophet instead of a teacher. There’s an air of confident, in-your-face declaration that was a bit of a shock to this guy who is used to long brainy sermons.
I really like the emphasis on using and learning from the prepared prayers. The Book of Common Prayer is full of beautiful language and really meaningful prayers and is a rich treasury that today’s church should draw on. (I’m a sucker for the musical metaphor, too.)
Zahnd makes a compelling case for using rote prayers from Acts 2:42, which in the NIV is translated
They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.
However, he points out, in the Greek it’s not “prayer” but “the prayers”, definite article, plural. (I looked it up in an interlinear online, and sure enough, he’s right.) And devoting one’s self to “the prayers” is a horse of a different color than “prayer”.
I haven’t done a very good job of taking up Pastor Brian’s six-week challenge so far. I’ve used the liturgy inconsistently a few times per week, often getting distracted by my schedule. However, I still feel the draw to use it more regularly, so I’m going to try to make it a priority. Where previously the idea of spending 20-30 minutes in prayer was incomprehensible to me - I’d be out of ideas after 5 minutes! - with this liturgy I can easily spend 20-30 minutes in reading and prayer, which is great. I just need to find a way to make it a habit.
There’s so much more I’d like to write but I’ll save it for a follow-up post.
17 Years
Seventeen years ago, on a sweltering Friday night in Charlotte, NC, two youngsters stood before God and a few hundred friends and family and made promises that they surely didn’t fully understand.
In some ways it feels like it was just yesterday… until I start thinking about all the intervening events. 17 years later we’ve added three kids, cycled through about half a dozen cats, have a lot less hair, and still play church softball every season. (This year’s team’s infield: two married couples. One husband/wife at short and second; Becky at first and me at third. Such fun… until I start airmailing my throws to first!)
God has been good to us, and we keep learning every day (or at least most days) how to love each other better and become even better friends. Today is our seventh prime number anniversary, and here’s to another 10 or 12 primes before we’re done.
Living the Bachelor's Life
My wife and kids have been gone for the past two days. They planned a trip to visit Grandma for dates where I had planned to be on a business trip. The business trip got cancelled, but the trip to Grandma’s remained. So, for the past two nights I’ve had the house entirely to myself. As far as I can recall, this is the first time such a thing has happened since we’ve had kids.
So how have I lived it up as a bachelor for the past two days?
I have managed to get the trash out on the correct day, the dishes washed, and the mail brought in from the mailbox. Haven’t done much else, though.
The house is really quiet with everybody gone. I’ve burned through more podcasts in the past two days than in the prior two weeks just to have something to break up the silence. I think the cat is taking it harder than I am - he has actually acknowledged my presence these past couple of days, and while he still refuses to sit on my lap, he has been willing to sit up on the top of my chair while I’m sitting watching TV.
The family returns to the house this afternoon, and all the lovely noise and chaos along with them.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
10 years of blogging
The first post on this blog was written on October 29, 2004, in typical new-blogger fashion noting that I had a new blog. Over the past 10 years I’ve written 1597 posts, squashed innumerable spam comments, migrated themes a few times, and even tried a non-Wordpress blog engine for a bit.
10 years ago I was still in my 20s, had only one child (a baby), was leading music at a little Baptist church, writing software for my employer, and had been in the first home we owned for about a year. Today I’m much closer to 40, have three kids all now school aged, lead music at a bigger EFCA church, still work at the same firm though I haven’t written a line of airborne code in years, but we’re still in that same little house.
I’m not really sure why people still read my blog; I’m an inconsistent writer and go on far too much about music, books I’m reading, and generally nerdy stuff. I’ve passed my theo-rage-blogging phase, so I’m not likely to get linked by any of those folks any more. (Pretty sure my biggest day in terms of visits was a Saturday that Rachel Held Evans tweeted a link to something I wrote. That’ll likely never happen again.)
I have no idea what blogging will look like another 10 years from now, but assuming it’s still around in some form I imagine I’ll still be doing it. After all, where else can I narcissistically blather on with my own image staring skeptically at me from the sidebar and delude myself into thinking that people read it and find it meaningful?
Sure, *my* story is complex, but yours?
This article over on CT is so much more than its title - “What not to say to a Dad of 4”. The nut graf:
This is one of our our greatest failings in the modern internet age, that we rightly believe that our own lives are complex things that defy easy comprehension, but fail to extend that same grace to others. When it comes to their lives, especially those with whom we disagree, we suddenly possess the ability to derive a doctorate thesis’ worth of conclusions about their story and motivations, from only the smallest fragments of data. “You follow Marc [sic] Driscoll (or Rob Bell) and John Piper (or Brian McLaren) on Twitter? - Then I know what you’re ALL about.” * disapproving grimace *
Yes, yes, 1000 times yes. I have been guilty of making this judgment myself and have had it made upon me by others. We all need to do better, to extend more grace. Lord, help us do so.
My Fourth of July:
Happy Independence Day, everybody!
I never think I'm volunteering for too much stuff...
…and then it all piles up at once and gets really busy.
Help friends move?
Absolutely, I’d love to.
Substitute worship lead while the worship pastor’s gone?
Wouldn’t miss it.
Lead the Tuesday morning Bible study while the senior pastor’s on sabbatical this summer?
You bet! Let’s keep the group going!
Lead kids' music for our church backyard bible club for 4 nights?
Well, sure.
And then from Saturday morning through Tuesday morning, all of them converge within 72 hours.
I’m not complaining, but I am taking Monday and Tuesday as vacation days at work. I plan to collapse in a state of blessed exhaustion.
That's not me! - an update...
Last month I wrote That’s not me!, in which I lamented an Atlanta-based person using my Gmail address in contact forms and various online profiles, which had the end result of me getting frequent extra emails from car dealers, football teams, and cruise lines.
Yesterday, though, I got a little extra information. After getting another email from an Atlanta-area car dealership, I clicked on the unsubscribe link. The unsubscribe page it took me to included not just the contact email address, but also a contact cell number for texts and a contact mailing address.
So now, in theory, I could text or snail mail this person and let them know that their emails are coming to me. Now to decide if I should do so, and how confusing it might be to try to explain the issue and how I got the person’s cell number in the first place. Hmmmm…..
I'm an uncle again!
The congratulations are due to my brother Andrew and his wife Heather on the birth of their second child, and first son, Isaiah David Hubbs. Isaiah was born this afternoon and everyone is doing well.
It’s a bit odd, coming from a family with mostly boys, but Isaiah is my first nephew on either side of the family. Three nieces on my wife’s side, three daughters, and Isaiah’s big sister have equaled out to lots of estrogen. Glad to have this young man to start to restore balance!
That's not me!
OK, I’ve heard stories before about people having their email addresses added to unsavory mailing lists by pranking friends or malicious enemies, but what about the times when someone is apparently unintentionally using your email address for their legitimate purposes? Such is the odd frustration I’ve been dealing with lately.
I’ve had a Gmail account with a username in the format of firstname.lastname@gmail.com ever since Gmail was invite-only. (Remember those days?) It’s worked great for me, though eventually I’ve semi-retired it for email in favor of using Fastmail and an email address based on my personal domain. For the past six months, though, I’ve been getting a string of non-spam emails that appear to be intended for somebody else.
It started out innocuously enough, with a subscription to a mailing list of Cobb County, Georgia first responders. I requested an unsubscribe, and a real person wrote me back, a little confused why I was asking to be removed. I explained and was eventually removed from the list.
But then I started getting other emails. Over the past 6 months or so I’ve gotten the following:
Then on Monday came the one that made me think about this a little more seriously: an email from LifeLock with the salutation “Dear LifeLock Wallet User:".
Now, I’m just deleting these emails, but there’s nothing that would prevent me, were I malicious, from going to the websites in question, using the email address (which, remember, is my email address) and the Lost Password routine to set up a new password, and I’d have access to that person’s account.
Which is one level of bad if it’s your hudl.com account (which appears to be some sort of sports training website), but an entirely different level of bad if it’s your credit monitoring service.
What I really don’t understand is how this person continues to make this mistake, when s/he clearly isn’t getting the emails in question. (I have Google 2-factor authentication active on my account, and I track my Google logins closely, so I’m ruling out the thought that this person could be actually getting to those email messages.) If it were you, wouldn’t you start questioning why you weren’t receiving emails, and then eventually correct your mistake?
If this were, say, work email intended for another Chris Hubbs at my employer (such a person used to exist!), it’d be easy enough to look up that person, forward the email to their correct address, and let them know to clarify things with their contacts. But in this case I’ve got very little idea who the right recipient is!
Basically all I can do is say this: if you’re Chris Hubbard from Atlanta, you should be aware that chris.hubbs@gmail.com belongs to a guy in Iowa who would be happy to not keep getting your email. Or if you’re gonna keep sending it to me, at least have the decency to send me the cruise tickets and not just the receipts.
Humility
There are days I foolishly think I’m fairly well-read and have thought through good chunks of doctrine and theology; and then there are the days where I’m reminded that I’m a rank amateur.
I’m thankful for the folks who so patiently share their wisdom and experience. You know who you are.
The difference a decade makes
On the left, my passport photo from 2004. On the right, my passport photo from last week.
My Swedish Doppelganger
When my wife’s sister and her husband recently visited Chile, they found this picture in a museum somewhere and sent it to my wife, noting that they’d found my doppelganger. I have to admit, I do see the resemblance. (Click on it to see the big version.)
The translation of the text with the photo (thanks, Google translate!):
CARL SKOTTSBERG aboard the ANTARCTIC A student of philosophy and botany of the Nordenskjold expedition. Was 21 years and was one of the last to leave the ship when it sank in the Weddell Sea. After being rescued by the corvette Uruguay, Skottsberg continued his career as a botanist and performed numerous trips. He was the founder of the Goteborg Botanical Garden whose main street that borders bears his name.
It turns out that Carl Skottsberg was indeed a Swedish botanist and explorer. It would appear that later in life his appearance and mine diverged a bit. (However, if anybody that’s handy with Photoshop wants to mock-up what this guy would look like with a shaved head and goatee… be my guest!)
For a moment in our 20s, though, we might have been brothers.
The Healing of the Open Road
Maybe it’s just a reaction to still being in the tail end of 3 months of a cold winter back home, but give me a trip to Phoenix this week, a rental car with a sunroof, and a couple free afternoon hours, and I felt the road calling my name.
I’ve never been to Arizona before this week. It’s a far cry from the midwest that I’ve usually called home, but there’s a stark beauty to its dark, jagged mountains and sandy, scrubby terrain. The road lies out straight and flat for countless miles with little more than an occasional cactus breaking up the line to the peaks on the horizon.
So tonight, with two busy weeks of work travel almost behind me (home to Iowa tomorrow!) and a couple hours of sunlight, I turned the little SUV south, opened the windows and sunroof, and turned up the music. It took me a little while to get out of town and to roads less traveled, but eventually I turned off the main highway, crossed a cattle guard to turn onto a county road, and let my cares slowly filter out into the wind rushing past my window.
The music, both familiar (Bruce Hornsby) and new (Beck’s Morning Phase just came out today and is lovely) kept me company as the miles slipped behind. Prayers were spoken. Frustrations and hopes spilled out and were released to God. Little by little the beautiful broken emptiness of the desert reminded me of a greater hope, a hope that we all have for redemption.
Though 30 minutes of real traffic-free driving went by far too fast, there was also a certain cheerfulness to seeing the city lights signaling the return to civilization. Springtime is good for the soul, and my only regret from today is that I didn’t have the time to take a longer drive and see more. A friend advised that the two-hour drive through the hills up to Sedona is worthwhile. Next time I’ll have to see if I can get there.
Accepting truth, discarding error
Yesterday I wrote about the need to be willing to accept truth (and discard error) from wherever we find it, not just when it’s from our favorites (or least-favorites). A friend on Facebook noted in a comment on my post that she has lately been “tuning out” certain bloggers whom she has found repeatedly irritating or unhelpful.
As negative as I first thought it sounded, in truth I resemble that remark. It wasn’t that many months ago that I asked some friends for their opinions on whether I should keep certain websites in my regular reading list, even if they were irritants, or whether it was appropriate to just delete them if they were consistently making me crazy.
So after writing yesterday’s post I find myself in a bit of a quandary. How do I go about learning from even those people who I often disagree with if I’m going to stop reading them at all?
Well, I’m not gonna read everybody
I should acknowledge that there are a certain set of folks who I just won’t read, because the value-to-noise ratio is so small that it’s just not worth it. Sorry, 9/11 truthers. Sorry, Mr. Third Eagle of the Apocalypse. There’s only so much time in the day.
In Which I Choose Not to Name Names
Part of me really wants to list a bunch of names of bloggers that I need to consider re-adding to my feed reader. But all that would do would provoke reactions from folks who like the folks I’ve deleted, and the point of this post isn’t to get into arguments about who’s worth reading and who’s not.
More important is deciding to read, and to have the humility to read and at least consider the views of those even who I think I’m fairly likely to disagree with. This accomplishes several things. It hones my critical thinking skills. It broadens my general knowledge of the arguments that are out there on any given topic. It provides me the opportunity to humbly understand that I might be wrong on certain points, and to correct my own thinking.
Yes, but…
There may still be times when some author is driving me crazy. Am I wrong to delete their feed and not read them for a while? Probably not. But more important than what I’m reading is why I’m reacting so strongly. If I’m reacting because an author truly isn’t making sense on a regular basis, maybe I really should delete them. If I’m reacting because I don’t like what’s being said, why am I reacting?
There are millions of words written every day that I disagree with. Why do those particular words make me react? What does that reflect about my heart, thoughts, and intentions? Once I get that settled I’ll know better what to do with that pesky blog subscription.
Draw your own conclusion.
My conclusion for myself is that I should add a few feeds back to my reader. (Your conclusion for yourself might be different.) Then, if I still have a strong reaction, I’ll work to understand why I have that reaction. I’m hoping I’ll learn more about my personal biases and blind spots. God knows I have plenty to learn.
A story of two men
Yesterday I attended a church in another town which I have infrequently visited before. Circumstances allowed me to help lead music as a part of their worship team. After the service I was approached by two different older (60-ish) men. This story is about them.
The First Man
The first man that approached me had given a testimony during the worship service. He was overflowing with contagious joy and appreciation for what God has been doing in his life. While his situation is still not an easy one, he took the time to ask about my family and job, then asked how he could pray for me and proceeded to take my arm and pray right there and then. What an encouragement! As he walked away we both had smiles on our faces and grace in our hearts.
The Second Man
The second man approached me a few minutes later, and after thanking me for my participation, proceeded to tell me that I should be praying for the church. He mentioned his theological training and proceeded to explain how the church would be improved if “they” would “get a vision” for aspects of their ministry that mirrored his. I patiently listened and politely nodded as he went on. When he walked away we both had expressions of concern. His, no doubt, was for that church and its ministries; mine was more for him, who would seemingly look past the good things happening in the church (even that morning!) to “spiritually” complain to a stranger about the church leadership’s vision.
OK, so I lied up in paragraph one. This story isn’t really about them.
As I was thinking over these interactions a day later, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks:
I am the second man.
No, not all the time. And maybe not quite so obviously. But if I think and look back over my past year of on- and off-line interactions, and if I’m honest with myself, I’m the second guy.
I’ve been quick to complain, criticize, and critique. I’ve looked past the good things happening in my own congregation to pick at the nits that I’ve disagreed with. Rather than being thankful for what’s going on, I’ve relied on my “superior” theological knowledge (I am, at best, a well-read amateur) to poke holes too many places where the church didn’t align to “my vision” instead of just helping shore up the walls and foundations that truly might need a little help.
So let this serve as my public apology and repentance. (There are some private ones coming, too.) Where there are still correctives that should be made, may my first reaction always be grace and encouragement, and may I let the correctives wait for the right time and place.
Amen.
(And hey, kick me if you catch me straying from this, eh?)
Clarification, because a couple people have asked: this is a real story, and those were real conversations.
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: