Monday, October 31, 2011
The Church Pew in a Coffee Shop
About a year ago I found myself in the States in order to attend the funeral of a family member. Now you have to understand that this family member was a Christian and was also a long-time member of a fairly conservative church. As we came into the church building itself before the service, I couldn’t help but notice the brand-new auditorium that must have cost at least a million dollars to build, and perhaps more.
What instantly struck me was how I felt offended on a profound level about this physical structure. As a former pastor myself, I couldn’t imagine standing up in front of a congregation and asking them to dig deep and give sacrificially so that we could build a brand-new facility. Especially at a time when so many of them would be struggling financially in such a difficult economy. And I wasn’t the only person who felt this way—a relative, who is not a Christian, asked me after the service why would the church build such a massive new building in this type of economy? My answer: having a fancy new building was obviously more of a priority than taking that money and helping the poor and needy.
Once the service began, the pastor of the church proceeded to make us sing all 4 verses of several old-fashioned hymns—despite the fact that probably half the audience were not Christians who struggled to follow along. Following this he then preached a 45-minute hellfire ‘gospel sermon’ from the Bible—because, as he stated, the deceased family member 'would have wanted it that way.'
In his message, he said that the Bible says this: no matter what kind of good deeds a person does in his or her life, if that person does not know Jesus personally, then all those good deeds were nothing more than ‘filthy rags’ in God’s sight. While in principle I agree that a person cannot earn salvation performing good works, by the same token I don’t believe Christians should be blatantly offensive and condescending in presenting this version of ‘the gospel’ to those who don’t believe.
It turned out that I wasn’t the only person who felt the same way about the message either. After the service I rode with a longtime friend—who is not a Christian—to a gig he was doing at a coffeehouse. As we drove away, the first thing he asked me was: “Is that what every Christian believes? Is that what you believe? I thought the church was here to build people up, not tear them down and make them feel like shit.” What could I say to that?
Those questions actually started up a great conversation. One of the most profound things my friend said was that he had known my deceased family member for many years, since this person was the bookkeeper for his business. He stated that he definitely knew my family member had been a Christian, but wasn’t the type of person that shoved the Bible down your throat.
He also questioned the preacher’s justification for preaching such a condemnatory sermon on the grounds that the family member ‘would have wanted it that way.’ He felt that my family member had been a decent and hardworking person who lived by Christian principles both in life and in business. To me, that seemed like a much more valid witness of what a Christian should be than the example given by the self-assured gospel the preacher presented.
When we arrived at the coffeehouse, I found a place to sit on a bench while I waited for my friend and his band to set up for the gig. It was one of these relaxed coffee shops with books on shelves for people to read, puzzles to do, and pictures of nature on the walls. I went for a coffee and struck up a conversation with the owner, who as it turned out was a lesbian. I ended up getting an amazing Mexican mocha drink that she recommended as ‘the best on the menu.’ She told me that since I had asked for her advice, I was now ‘part of the family’ even though I told her that I lived in England. She said that it didn’t matter that I lived on the other side of the world, that I’d be back there some day and would have another coffee. She said I was always welcome there, and she hoped I would have a great time.
Going back to my bench seat with my coffee, I struck up a conversation with two women who, as it turned out, were with the band. Once I told them I lived in Britain, we ended up having a great conversation about life, travel and furthering one’s horizons. At some point in the conversation, I suddenly realized with a shock that the bench I was sitting on wasn’t just any bench—it was an old church pew! Amazed, I asked the ladies, ‘Do you realize that we’re actually sitting on an old church pew?’ They hadn’t noticed it either.
The next question came straight into my mind. I asked the women, ‘Can you tell me what you think—do you believe this old church pew is doing more good here in this coffee shop than it did in whatever church it used to be in?’ They thought about it for a moment, then said that they felt the pew was doing more good in the coffee shop. It was easy to see why they would say that. I felt welcomed and relaxed there; I felt like I was part of the family. People were doing puzzles with their friends and children. The musicians were expressing their gifts and a lot of people seemed to be enjoying what they heard. It looked to me like everybody who was in the place wanted to be there and didn’t want to leave.
I figured that whatever church building that old pew came out of, more than likely, that great community feeling hadn’t been happening there. I had to wonder—how did that pew end up in that coffee shop? Did the building from which it originally came close down because the church died and somebody sold off the furnishings? Was that old pew thankful it ended up where it did so that it could do its part to foster community?
Although I’ll never know the answers to those questions, reflecting back on my two experiences of that day, I know where I’d rather be sitting.
What instantly struck me was how I felt offended on a profound level about this physical structure. As a former pastor myself, I couldn’t imagine standing up in front of a congregation and asking them to dig deep and give sacrificially so that we could build a brand-new facility. Especially at a time when so many of them would be struggling financially in such a difficult economy. And I wasn’t the only person who felt this way—a relative, who is not a Christian, asked me after the service why would the church build such a massive new building in this type of economy? My answer: having a fancy new building was obviously more of a priority than taking that money and helping the poor and needy.
Once the service began, the pastor of the church proceeded to make us sing all 4 verses of several old-fashioned hymns—despite the fact that probably half the audience were not Christians who struggled to follow along. Following this he then preached a 45-minute hellfire ‘gospel sermon’ from the Bible—because, as he stated, the deceased family member 'would have wanted it that way.'
In his message, he said that the Bible says this: no matter what kind of good deeds a person does in his or her life, if that person does not know Jesus personally, then all those good deeds were nothing more than ‘filthy rags’ in God’s sight. While in principle I agree that a person cannot earn salvation performing good works, by the same token I don’t believe Christians should be blatantly offensive and condescending in presenting this version of ‘the gospel’ to those who don’t believe.
It turned out that I wasn’t the only person who felt the same way about the message either. After the service I rode with a longtime friend—who is not a Christian—to a gig he was doing at a coffeehouse. As we drove away, the first thing he asked me was: “Is that what every Christian believes? Is that what you believe? I thought the church was here to build people up, not tear them down and make them feel like shit.” What could I say to that?
Those questions actually started up a great conversation. One of the most profound things my friend said was that he had known my deceased family member for many years, since this person was the bookkeeper for his business. He stated that he definitely knew my family member had been a Christian, but wasn’t the type of person that shoved the Bible down your throat.
He also questioned the preacher’s justification for preaching such a condemnatory sermon on the grounds that the family member ‘would have wanted it that way.’ He felt that my family member had been a decent and hardworking person who lived by Christian principles both in life and in business. To me, that seemed like a much more valid witness of what a Christian should be than the example given by the self-assured gospel the preacher presented.
When we arrived at the coffeehouse, I found a place to sit on a bench while I waited for my friend and his band to set up for the gig. It was one of these relaxed coffee shops with books on shelves for people to read, puzzles to do, and pictures of nature on the walls. I went for a coffee and struck up a conversation with the owner, who as it turned out was a lesbian. I ended up getting an amazing Mexican mocha drink that she recommended as ‘the best on the menu.’ She told me that since I had asked for her advice, I was now ‘part of the family’ even though I told her that I lived in England. She said that it didn’t matter that I lived on the other side of the world, that I’d be back there some day and would have another coffee. She said I was always welcome there, and she hoped I would have a great time.
Going back to my bench seat with my coffee, I struck up a conversation with two women who, as it turned out, were with the band. Once I told them I lived in Britain, we ended up having a great conversation about life, travel and furthering one’s horizons. At some point in the conversation, I suddenly realized with a shock that the bench I was sitting on wasn’t just any bench—it was an old church pew! Amazed, I asked the ladies, ‘Do you realize that we’re actually sitting on an old church pew?’ They hadn’t noticed it either.
The next question came straight into my mind. I asked the women, ‘Can you tell me what you think—do you believe this old church pew is doing more good here in this coffee shop than it did in whatever church it used to be in?’ They thought about it for a moment, then said that they felt the pew was doing more good in the coffee shop. It was easy to see why they would say that. I felt welcomed and relaxed there; I felt like I was part of the family. People were doing puzzles with their friends and children. The musicians were expressing their gifts and a lot of people seemed to be enjoying what they heard. It looked to me like everybody who was in the place wanted to be there and didn’t want to leave.
I figured that whatever church building that old pew came out of, more than likely, that great community feeling hadn’t been happening there. I had to wonder—how did that pew end up in that coffee shop? Did the building from which it originally came close down because the church died and somebody sold off the furnishings? Was that old pew thankful it ended up where it did so that it could do its part to foster community?
Although I’ll never know the answers to those questions, reflecting back on my two experiences of that day, I know where I’d rather be sitting.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Symptoms
The other day my family and I were in Liverpool on a surprisingly sunny day for Britain. We were sitting on a park bench near a busy street as we ate our lunch and enjoyed the sunshine. Just then a bus pulled up to the light and stopped in front of us, and I was a bit startled to read the sign on its side.
The sign asked three questions:
‘Bleeding bottom? Lumps under the skin? Persistent cough? If you have these symptoms, you need to see your General Practitioner immediately.’
Now this is not exactly what you’d like to see when eating your lunch. I pointed out the sign to my daughter Alexa who thought it slightly strange that I would actually be pointing out such a sign to her. But then as we talked more about it, the imagination went into overdrive.
I can imagine a few different potential scenarios that could emerge as someone reads this sign on the side of the bus.
1. A person reads the sign and says, “Why, yes, I have a bleeding bottom, and I have lumps under my skin. But thank God, I don’t have a persistent cough! Whew! Luckily, I’m fine. That was a close one. No need to see my GP! I can finally get on with my life….”
2. A person reads the sign and says, “What? Wait a minute! Yes, I have a bleeding bottom, lumps under my skin, and a persistent cough. But until just this minute, I thought everybody had those symptoms! Are you telling me that this is some kind of a problem? I thought it was normal! Dear God, I had better get over to my GP as soon as possible!”
3. A person reads the sign and says, “Yes, I have a bleeding bottom, lumps under my skin and a persistent cough. Had ‘em for years. But I don’t need anybody telling me what to do! Screw you, jerks—I’m not going to see my GP just because some sign on a bus tells me to do it!”
4. A person reads the sign and says, “Why yes, I have a bleeding bottom, lumps under my skin and a persistent cough. It’s made my life a living hell! 3rd pair of pants I’ve ruined today! I’ve even thought about going to see my GP about these symptoms, but the NHS health care system is so bad in this country I’ll probably die before I make my appointment. Forget it. What’s the point?”
And the irony of it all is, they say Americans don’t understand irony. To me, if someone has a bleeding bottom, lumps under their skin AND a persistent cough, wouldn’t they figure out by now that they are seriously messed up? Does someone actually need to put that kind of a sign on the side of a bus?
Are people seriously that stupid that they wouldn’t realize that having a bleeding bottom, lumps under the skin and a persistent cough just might mean they are in a really bad way already? The very second my butt started bleeding, I would drop whatever I was doing and shove my way ahead of everybody in the doctor’s waiting room. If I had lumps under my skin I’d be finding out where the doctor lived and pay him a visit at his house after hours.
I guess a persistent cough isn’t so bad though…
The sign asked three questions:
‘Bleeding bottom? Lumps under the skin? Persistent cough? If you have these symptoms, you need to see your General Practitioner immediately.’
Now this is not exactly what you’d like to see when eating your lunch. I pointed out the sign to my daughter Alexa who thought it slightly strange that I would actually be pointing out such a sign to her. But then as we talked more about it, the imagination went into overdrive.
I can imagine a few different potential scenarios that could emerge as someone reads this sign on the side of the bus.
1. A person reads the sign and says, “Why, yes, I have a bleeding bottom, and I have lumps under my skin. But thank God, I don’t have a persistent cough! Whew! Luckily, I’m fine. That was a close one. No need to see my GP! I can finally get on with my life….”
2. A person reads the sign and says, “What? Wait a minute! Yes, I have a bleeding bottom, lumps under my skin, and a persistent cough. But until just this minute, I thought everybody had those symptoms! Are you telling me that this is some kind of a problem? I thought it was normal! Dear God, I had better get over to my GP as soon as possible!”
3. A person reads the sign and says, “Yes, I have a bleeding bottom, lumps under my skin and a persistent cough. Had ‘em for years. But I don’t need anybody telling me what to do! Screw you, jerks—I’m not going to see my GP just because some sign on a bus tells me to do it!”
4. A person reads the sign and says, “Why yes, I have a bleeding bottom, lumps under my skin and a persistent cough. It’s made my life a living hell! 3rd pair of pants I’ve ruined today! I’ve even thought about going to see my GP about these symptoms, but the NHS health care system is so bad in this country I’ll probably die before I make my appointment. Forget it. What’s the point?”
And the irony of it all is, they say Americans don’t understand irony. To me, if someone has a bleeding bottom, lumps under their skin AND a persistent cough, wouldn’t they figure out by now that they are seriously messed up? Does someone actually need to put that kind of a sign on the side of a bus?
Are people seriously that stupid that they wouldn’t realize that having a bleeding bottom, lumps under the skin and a persistent cough just might mean they are in a really bad way already? The very second my butt started bleeding, I would drop whatever I was doing and shove my way ahead of everybody in the doctor’s waiting room. If I had lumps under my skin I’d be finding out where the doctor lived and pay him a visit at his house after hours.
I guess a persistent cough isn’t so bad though…
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Trials of a Plate-Spinner
Once upon a time there was a professional plate-spinner. He was never really taught how to do it, but over time picked up the skills from watching other spinners and ultimately just trying it himself. Over the years he became better and better at adding more plates to the thin rods and keeping them spinning. His mantra was: ‘Keep the plates spinning at all costs!’ Once a plate was added to a new rod and set spinning, he committed himself to do whatever it took to keep it going. The more plates he added, the more exhausted he became, running from plate to plate in the effort to keep it from wobbling and ultimately crashing to the ground.
His audience loved to watch him spin the plates. Sitting in their comfortable chairs, they derived much pleasure from the show. They felt that since they had paid for the opportunity, their role was to kick back and enjoy. In fact they would insist that since they were paying audience members, and thus paying his salary, it was their job to point out to the plate-spinner the need to add more plates. If they felt he wasn’t spinning enough plates, they never hesitated to shout out ‘Add another plate!’ In an effort to satisfy his audience, the plate-spinner would always oblige, adding more plates and running ragged in the process.
Over the years the plate-spinner tried various strategies to induce audience members to get out of their seats and help him spin some plates. Oddly enough a few did get up onstage and quickly—mostly by trial and error—learned how to spin some plates. But rather than taking work away from the head plate-spinner, the Plate Spinning Team allowed him to add more spinning plates. He continued to spin the most plates by far, while the various audience members came and went, each trying to do their part to help. Oftentimes they would become exhausted, quit the stage, and return to their seats to rest up. Some were so worn out that they left the audience altogether, swearing they would never return to such an exhausting performance. Such experiences left the additional plates to the head plate-spinner, but he never complained—he just ran harder from plate to plate.
There were a few times over the years where the head plate-spinner became too exhausted to run down the line of spinning plates, and a plate would begin wobbling and ultimately crash to the floor. At this the audience would boo, registering its displeasure over the broken plate. A few times they threatened to fire the plate-spinner and replace him with a younger, fitter, fresher plate-spinner who could handle the demands of the job. But the plate-spinner would take a quick breather, gulp down a drink, wipe his sweating forehead, and manage to set another plate spinning. Back and forth he ran…
One day an audience member dared to ask a taboo question of the other audience members. ‘How come all we’re doing is spinning these plates? Why do we have to spend all of our time, effort and energy keeping them going?’ The other audience members—and even the head plate-spinner—looked at her with shocked expressions. A chorus of voices responded: ‘Why, of course, this is what we do! Why would you even ask a question like that? Once we add a plate we’re duty-bound to keep it spinning for as long as possible! What kind of a question is that anyway?’
But she persisted and asked another question. ‘Why can’t we stop the plates, take them all down, and really think through what it is we’re doing here? Are you sure that keeping all these plates spinning is what we’re supposed to be about?’
‘Never!’ gasped the head plate-spinner as he ran from plate to plate. ‘Didn’t you hear everybody the first time? This is our identity! This is what we do, what we’re all about! We add plates and keep ‘em spinning at all costs. What is the matter with you? Now you’ve got a choice to make: either get up on this stage and grab some plates—or if you’re unwilling to serve, maybe you should leave. Always remember: the show must go on.’
His audience loved to watch him spin the plates. Sitting in their comfortable chairs, they derived much pleasure from the show. They felt that since they had paid for the opportunity, their role was to kick back and enjoy. In fact they would insist that since they were paying audience members, and thus paying his salary, it was their job to point out to the plate-spinner the need to add more plates. If they felt he wasn’t spinning enough plates, they never hesitated to shout out ‘Add another plate!’ In an effort to satisfy his audience, the plate-spinner would always oblige, adding more plates and running ragged in the process.
Over the years the plate-spinner tried various strategies to induce audience members to get out of their seats and help him spin some plates. Oddly enough a few did get up onstage and quickly—mostly by trial and error—learned how to spin some plates. But rather than taking work away from the head plate-spinner, the Plate Spinning Team allowed him to add more spinning plates. He continued to spin the most plates by far, while the various audience members came and went, each trying to do their part to help. Oftentimes they would become exhausted, quit the stage, and return to their seats to rest up. Some were so worn out that they left the audience altogether, swearing they would never return to such an exhausting performance. Such experiences left the additional plates to the head plate-spinner, but he never complained—he just ran harder from plate to plate.
There were a few times over the years where the head plate-spinner became too exhausted to run down the line of spinning plates, and a plate would begin wobbling and ultimately crash to the floor. At this the audience would boo, registering its displeasure over the broken plate. A few times they threatened to fire the plate-spinner and replace him with a younger, fitter, fresher plate-spinner who could handle the demands of the job. But the plate-spinner would take a quick breather, gulp down a drink, wipe his sweating forehead, and manage to set another plate spinning. Back and forth he ran…
One day an audience member dared to ask a taboo question of the other audience members. ‘How come all we’re doing is spinning these plates? Why do we have to spend all of our time, effort and energy keeping them going?’ The other audience members—and even the head plate-spinner—looked at her with shocked expressions. A chorus of voices responded: ‘Why, of course, this is what we do! Why would you even ask a question like that? Once we add a plate we’re duty-bound to keep it spinning for as long as possible! What kind of a question is that anyway?’
But she persisted and asked another question. ‘Why can’t we stop the plates, take them all down, and really think through what it is we’re doing here? Are you sure that keeping all these plates spinning is what we’re supposed to be about?’
‘Never!’ gasped the head plate-spinner as he ran from plate to plate. ‘Didn’t you hear everybody the first time? This is our identity! This is what we do, what we’re all about! We add plates and keep ‘em spinning at all costs. What is the matter with you? Now you’ve got a choice to make: either get up on this stage and grab some plates—or if you’re unwilling to serve, maybe you should leave. Always remember: the show must go on.’
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Verbal Spewage 2
After writing the piece below about ‘Verbal Spewage’ I had a very interesting conversation at a pub in town with a good friend named Brian. This is the same guy who a couple of years ago encouraged me not just to “think outside the box, but to live outside the box.” I always enjoy these meetings with Brian because I come away with more than when we started.
Our conversation covered a lot of areas, but one of the main issues we discussed was the concept of “becoming who you are.” Basically in a nutshell, I have become convinced that what I should be spending my time and energy on is this quest of becoming who I am. In other words, I believe that as God has made all of us unique and for a reason, we need to become who we are. Many of us have spent far too much time and energy trying to be something or someone that we aren’t, or trying to live up to someone else’s often unrealistic expectations of us.
I shared with Brian about the consequences of my “verbal spewages” and what its aftermath has been in my experiences. Basically by criticizing and pointing the finger at things I thought needed to be addressed, in the long run it may have built up more resistance and resulted in damage to those relationships. Brian gave me one of his looks and I braced myself for him to say something profound.
He did not disappoint me as he declared, “Oftentimes people don’t change because we are telling them directly that something is wrong, or needs to be changed. More often than not they will resist that type of frontal assault. Actually people change in the most profound ways when we are simply being ourselves. When we live as ourselves and are being authentic, that is compelling, and can actually initiate the kinds of changes we were looking for in the first place.”
It suddenly struck me that he was right on target. Rather than directly criticizing or pointing the finger at areas needing change—engaging in verbal spewage—I needed to forget about all of that and concentrate on being myself. Whether or not change truly happens is not up to me, in many ways.
This is my theory: Be the best big toe you can be! What do I mean? God has designed each of us in the church similar to the parts of the human body. But the body shouldn’t get involved in squabbles designed either to lower the status of some parts or elevate the status of other parts.
They eye shouldn’t say to the toe, “You’re worthless because you aren’t valuable like me.” And by the same token the toe shouldn’t think to itself, “Hey, the eye is right! I am worthless because I’m only the big toe down on this stinky foot.” I say, be the best big toe you can be! Forget trying to be an eye or an ear or a hand or whatever, be the best big toe you can be. Become who you are and that will be far more compelling than trying to be something you’re not.
So for me, I’m going to try and not engage in any more verbal spewages. I want to be the best big toe I can be, do the kinds of things for which I was wired and created, and see what happens. I have no idea what will be the result.
Our conversation covered a lot of areas, but one of the main issues we discussed was the concept of “becoming who you are.” Basically in a nutshell, I have become convinced that what I should be spending my time and energy on is this quest of becoming who I am. In other words, I believe that as God has made all of us unique and for a reason, we need to become who we are. Many of us have spent far too much time and energy trying to be something or someone that we aren’t, or trying to live up to someone else’s often unrealistic expectations of us.
I shared with Brian about the consequences of my “verbal spewages” and what its aftermath has been in my experiences. Basically by criticizing and pointing the finger at things I thought needed to be addressed, in the long run it may have built up more resistance and resulted in damage to those relationships. Brian gave me one of his looks and I braced myself for him to say something profound.
He did not disappoint me as he declared, “Oftentimes people don’t change because we are telling them directly that something is wrong, or needs to be changed. More often than not they will resist that type of frontal assault. Actually people change in the most profound ways when we are simply being ourselves. When we live as ourselves and are being authentic, that is compelling, and can actually initiate the kinds of changes we were looking for in the first place.”
It suddenly struck me that he was right on target. Rather than directly criticizing or pointing the finger at areas needing change—engaging in verbal spewage—I needed to forget about all of that and concentrate on being myself. Whether or not change truly happens is not up to me, in many ways.
This is my theory: Be the best big toe you can be! What do I mean? God has designed each of us in the church similar to the parts of the human body. But the body shouldn’t get involved in squabbles designed either to lower the status of some parts or elevate the status of other parts.
They eye shouldn’t say to the toe, “You’re worthless because you aren’t valuable like me.” And by the same token the toe shouldn’t think to itself, “Hey, the eye is right! I am worthless because I’m only the big toe down on this stinky foot.” I say, be the best big toe you can be! Forget trying to be an eye or an ear or a hand or whatever, be the best big toe you can be. Become who you are and that will be far more compelling than trying to be something you’re not.
So for me, I’m going to try and not engage in any more verbal spewages. I want to be the best big toe I can be, do the kinds of things for which I was wired and created, and see what happens. I have no idea what will be the result.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Verbal Spewage
My friend Marc and I are supposed to write a blog entry with the same title, and then we’ll compare notes. His site is www.twentymillionthings.blogspot.com if you are interested in reading his rant on 'verbal spewage.'
In terms of my thoughts on verbal spewage, I was going to say that sometimes when we verbally spew on people they quite simply can’t hear what we are saying. I think the key thing in learning wisdom (and I haven’t learned it yet by a long shot) is learning when one should spew verbally and when to keep one’s damn fool mouth shut. That, I think, must be the essence of true wisdom…
I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about churches, for instance, and church leadership. A lot of these ideas and concepts I have come out of my own experiences as one who spent a lot of years in leadership positions. Some experiences were positive—I think we influenced a number of people’s lives for the better—but overall the experience was probably more negative and hurtful. Years after the fact, now that I’ve had the time and opportunities to be healed up, I feel that I have a little distance and some objectivity about those events. I’ve learned a lot, mostly about what not to do, but there are some positives in there as well.
But I have found that not everybody wants to hear my ideas. I have learned over the years that there is a price tag associated with pretty much everything leaders do. If leaders want to maintain the status quo, then there is a price to pay for that. If they want to introduce real and lasting change, then there is a price to pay for that as well. The key thing is, I think, is knowing why you want change; what is it for? What are we trying to accomplish? And then, building enough elasticity into the new processes so that the new thing doesn’t become rigid, formal, and institutionalized. If that happens then we’re right back to where we started.
So a few years ago I was all fired up to try and influence church for change, but I found that in my verbal spewages I probably turned off more people than I turned on to my ideas. There is such a thing as coming on too strong, isn’t there? Even though what we have to say may be good and worthwhile and even what someone needs to hear, badgering them actually is counter-productive in the long run. So now I have to live with that legacy. Even some fairly critical things I’ve written on this blog may have come back to bite me in the end, but it was all part of my verbal spewage process.
So here I am a few years later, perhaps sadder and hopefully a little bit wiser for it. I have learned that it is very hard to convince people that you aren’t a crank because you keep harping on the same things and, for some reason, nobody listens!? We had a guy like this at the church where I was an elder and pastor. All he did was criticize and complain about everything the leadership did, but the strange bit was—he actually made some good points from time to time! But nobody could hear him because all of his verbal spewage. He had permanently soured people against him, and all it did was create a vicious cycle whereby he was increasingly frustrated—and every opportunity he had he let everybody know it.
The scary part for me was that the other day I had a bizarre thought—I wondered, am I turning into this guy? Bizarrely enough I think I can actually see how he got started, and it makes me appreciate—just a bit—his point of view. But I definitely don’t want to end up like him. Somebody said that if we don’t truly love other people and treat them with respect, then no matter what we say, it’s as if we are covered with clanging gongs and cymbals. Can’t hear what you’re saying because the crashing in my ears is too loud!
Perhaps that is the secret to verbal spewage—we can say the hard things that need to be said, but only if the other person absolutely knows that we love them and wish the best for them. Then the other person may actually listen… and we may learn as much in the process.
Friday, October 02, 2009
A Dublin Cabbie’s Take on Organized Religion
Back in February I was over in Dublin for a teaching job interview (I didn’t get the job, by the way). But beyond the gruelling experience of the interview itself, I learned far more on the ride to the interview itself. With a random cab company the hotel recommended, I had scheduled a drive in a cab the evening before to ensure that I would get to the interview on time.
The cab driver picked me up at the hotel bright and early the next morning, and we set off. Now it is true that the Irish have ‘the gift of the blarney’ and this particular driver was no exception. A very friendly cabbie, this guy could—as the saying goes—talk the hind leg off a donkey. Once he found out I was clearly not from Ireland or Britain—my American accent giving me away—he then proceeded to ask me just what exactly was I, an American, doing in his fair city. I replied I was going for a job interview teaching practical theology for a certain organized church found in Ireland. Then it all kicked off…and things became very interesting.
‘Organized religion!’ he said scornfully. ‘Don’t get me started on that subject.’ But start in he did, and proceeded to tell me the story of an experience he’d recently had with organized religion. It seemed that he himself was a devout atheist and had been as long as he could remember, though he was raised by a devout mother. His wife, however, was a believer and, though they didn’t attend their local church, wanted all the advantages for their children. So they attempted to enrol their daughter in a certain church-affiliated Christian school, and that is where the trouble all began.
In order for the school to accept her, she had to have an officially church-recognized baptism. This, they reasoned, should be fairly easily resolved. So they called their local vicar responsible for their parish and asked when they could schedule a baptism for their daughter, (who by the way had become a believer by this point). While they weren’t regular attendees of their local church, it was the one in their neighbourhood. But the priest, while sympathetic to their plight, replied that it was his sad duty to inform them that he would not be able to baptize their daughter at this particular time.
I interrupted the non-stop narrative. ‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘The priest said that your daughter was too young to be baptized?’ ‘No,’ he retorted. ‘You’re not going to believe this—the priest said she was too old!’ ‘How old is she?’ I asked, thinking to myself—how old does a person have to be in order to be considered beyond the baptizing age? ‘She is 8 years old,’ replied the cabbie. ‘Eight?’ I said incredulously. ‘The priest said that she was too old to be baptized at eight?’ ‘You know it, my friend,’ he said with a philosophical shrug of his shoulders. ‘But the story gets better…’
It seemed that this particular priest said that he could be persuaded to baptize their daughter—though it was highly unusual—if she went through some type of baptismal classes first. ‘But,’ said the priest with some regret, ‘The class doesn’t start for another four months, and then it runs for twelve weeks. But even after that, I’m booked solid for baptisms for a few months past that. The soonest I could squeeze it in would be in about six months and oh, by the way, it’s going to cost you 150 Euros for the service.’
But the daughter needed to be baptized sooner than that in order to get into the school. Was there any way the thing could be expedited more quickly? The priest thought for a long moment and then had a revelation. He knew of another vicar in a parish across town who just might be able to squeeze them in quicker, if he put in a good word. ‘Of course,’ hinted the priest, ‘things might go a bit easier for you if you were actually members of my church, but then what can we do. Such is life.’ However, he was willing to put in a referral with the other vicar. They were able to set an appointment for the baptism within a month.
But the cabbie wasn’t finished. ‘Believe it or not, the story gets even better,’ he said, shaking his head. He and his wife were friends with another couple who were in a similar situation. This couple had a daughter who also needed to get baptized to gain entrance to the same school! While chatting to his friend, the cabbie mentioned that they had found it quite difficult to get their daughter baptized by their local priest. The other man said with a laugh, ‘We talked to the priest just yesterday and our daughter is going to be baptized there next week!’ ‘How can that be possible?’ asked the cab driver. ‘The priest told me he was booked solid for baptisms for at least six months! How did you get in for next week on such short notice?’ ‘Well we are members of the church and attend regularly. Maybe that makes a difference, but who knows how these things work?’
By now we were nearing our destination. As he pulled up to the curb to drop me off the cab driver turned around and said, ‘You know, I’m not against organized religion as such. But my God, they do make it awfully hard sometimes for an average guy like me to want to set foot in the door. I wish you all the best with your church. I guess with religion you can take it or leave it. I think I’ll leave it.’
I have to ask myself… is it any wonder the guy was an atheist?
The cab driver picked me up at the hotel bright and early the next morning, and we set off. Now it is true that the Irish have ‘the gift of the blarney’ and this particular driver was no exception. A very friendly cabbie, this guy could—as the saying goes—talk the hind leg off a donkey. Once he found out I was clearly not from Ireland or Britain—my American accent giving me away—he then proceeded to ask me just what exactly was I, an American, doing in his fair city. I replied I was going for a job interview teaching practical theology for a certain organized church found in Ireland. Then it all kicked off…and things became very interesting.
‘Organized religion!’ he said scornfully. ‘Don’t get me started on that subject.’ But start in he did, and proceeded to tell me the story of an experience he’d recently had with organized religion. It seemed that he himself was a devout atheist and had been as long as he could remember, though he was raised by a devout mother. His wife, however, was a believer and, though they didn’t attend their local church, wanted all the advantages for their children. So they attempted to enrol their daughter in a certain church-affiliated Christian school, and that is where the trouble all began.
In order for the school to accept her, she had to have an officially church-recognized baptism. This, they reasoned, should be fairly easily resolved. So they called their local vicar responsible for their parish and asked when they could schedule a baptism for their daughter, (who by the way had become a believer by this point). While they weren’t regular attendees of their local church, it was the one in their neighbourhood. But the priest, while sympathetic to their plight, replied that it was his sad duty to inform them that he would not be able to baptize their daughter at this particular time.
I interrupted the non-stop narrative. ‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘The priest said that your daughter was too young to be baptized?’ ‘No,’ he retorted. ‘You’re not going to believe this—the priest said she was too old!’ ‘How old is she?’ I asked, thinking to myself—how old does a person have to be in order to be considered beyond the baptizing age? ‘She is 8 years old,’ replied the cabbie. ‘Eight?’ I said incredulously. ‘The priest said that she was too old to be baptized at eight?’ ‘You know it, my friend,’ he said with a philosophical shrug of his shoulders. ‘But the story gets better…’
It seemed that this particular priest said that he could be persuaded to baptize their daughter—though it was highly unusual—if she went through some type of baptismal classes first. ‘But,’ said the priest with some regret, ‘The class doesn’t start for another four months, and then it runs for twelve weeks. But even after that, I’m booked solid for baptisms for a few months past that. The soonest I could squeeze it in would be in about six months and oh, by the way, it’s going to cost you 150 Euros for the service.’
But the daughter needed to be baptized sooner than that in order to get into the school. Was there any way the thing could be expedited more quickly? The priest thought for a long moment and then had a revelation. He knew of another vicar in a parish across town who just might be able to squeeze them in quicker, if he put in a good word. ‘Of course,’ hinted the priest, ‘things might go a bit easier for you if you were actually members of my church, but then what can we do. Such is life.’ However, he was willing to put in a referral with the other vicar. They were able to set an appointment for the baptism within a month.
But the cabbie wasn’t finished. ‘Believe it or not, the story gets even better,’ he said, shaking his head. He and his wife were friends with another couple who were in a similar situation. This couple had a daughter who also needed to get baptized to gain entrance to the same school! While chatting to his friend, the cabbie mentioned that they had found it quite difficult to get their daughter baptized by their local priest. The other man said with a laugh, ‘We talked to the priest just yesterday and our daughter is going to be baptized there next week!’ ‘How can that be possible?’ asked the cab driver. ‘The priest told me he was booked solid for baptisms for at least six months! How did you get in for next week on such short notice?’ ‘Well we are members of the church and attend regularly. Maybe that makes a difference, but who knows how these things work?’
By now we were nearing our destination. As he pulled up to the curb to drop me off the cab driver turned around and said, ‘You know, I’m not against organized religion as such. But my God, they do make it awfully hard sometimes for an average guy like me to want to set foot in the door. I wish you all the best with your church. I guess with religion you can take it or leave it. I think I’ll leave it.’
I have to ask myself… is it any wonder the guy was an atheist?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A PhD in Pajamas
I have been realizing for some time now that life is all about perspective. I think as well that everybody, deep down inside, wishes to be a celebrity of some kind, or maybe just that somebody will notice their accomplishments and praise them for it. But life, I am realizing, has a distressing way of going on; somehow few people seem to care when we hit major milestones.
For instance, take my life in the past three years. I have been working pretty much non-stop during this time on a PhD thesis, or as the Americans say, a doctoral dissertation. Did I attend some prestigious university here in the UK? No, nobody’s ever heard of my school outside of a fifty-mile radius of the city of Chester. I didn’t even have to attend classes, as most of my time was spent researching or writing. What have I been doing with my time? Sitting on the couch in my pajamas, reading a book or an article, or tapping away on the keyboard hoping that what I wrote made some sense.
Then, just the other day—Friday the 13th to be precise—everything was done, printed and bound, and I stopped by the Research School and submitted my finished thesis. Just like that. The lady there had me sign a form; after I handed it back she said, “Congratulations on submitting your thesis.” I said “Thank you,” and walked outside. No fireworks; no doves released; no balloons; nothing happened. People ignored me as they walked past on their way to the library or wherever, just like every other day. I went home and that night had pizza for dinner. Life goes on.
Someone told me several years ago that if you get your PhD, you can “write your own ticket, man!” I would love to do this, but the problem is, I can’t seem to find the ticket so I can write it! I need to find a job teaching, but the phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook. In fact right now is a terrible time to be looking for work, as many Bible colleges and seminaries appear to have a hiring freeze on right now, what with the recession and all. So life goes on, it would appear.
Maybe what we’re after is this feeling inside that what we do makes a difference, that our lives have some kind of impact on others in a positive way. I wonder if this is what drives people to give money to create libraries, school gymnasiums, or hospitals with their names on the sign. I wonder as well about the celebrity culture we have, and why some people so desperately crave becoming one. We even have our Christian celebrities too, big-name authors, speakers, musicians, whatever.
But I think mostly for me, while I scoff at celebrities and the people who worship them, I sometimes wish it could be me up there. I wish that people would come ask what I think about this or that, and film me for the latest documentary about whatever subject in which I am a leading expert. I hope my articles get noticed; I want to write the latest best-seller; I want somebody to buy my photographs; I hope my stuff gets read and that people think it’s cool and relevant or whatever. So I suppose I’m not exempt from the celebrity thing either.
Therein lies the rub…the tension between the person wishing to become the next Christian celebrity and the guy sitting on the couch, doing a PhD in pajamas.
For instance, take my life in the past three years. I have been working pretty much non-stop during this time on a PhD thesis, or as the Americans say, a doctoral dissertation. Did I attend some prestigious university here in the UK? No, nobody’s ever heard of my school outside of a fifty-mile radius of the city of Chester. I didn’t even have to attend classes, as most of my time was spent researching or writing. What have I been doing with my time? Sitting on the couch in my pajamas, reading a book or an article, or tapping away on the keyboard hoping that what I wrote made some sense.
Then, just the other day—Friday the 13th to be precise—everything was done, printed and bound, and I stopped by the Research School and submitted my finished thesis. Just like that. The lady there had me sign a form; after I handed it back she said, “Congratulations on submitting your thesis.” I said “Thank you,” and walked outside. No fireworks; no doves released; no balloons; nothing happened. People ignored me as they walked past on their way to the library or wherever, just like every other day. I went home and that night had pizza for dinner. Life goes on.
Someone told me several years ago that if you get your PhD, you can “write your own ticket, man!” I would love to do this, but the problem is, I can’t seem to find the ticket so I can write it! I need to find a job teaching, but the phone isn’t exactly ringing off the hook. In fact right now is a terrible time to be looking for work, as many Bible colleges and seminaries appear to have a hiring freeze on right now, what with the recession and all. So life goes on, it would appear.
Maybe what we’re after is this feeling inside that what we do makes a difference, that our lives have some kind of impact on others in a positive way. I wonder if this is what drives people to give money to create libraries, school gymnasiums, or hospitals with their names on the sign. I wonder as well about the celebrity culture we have, and why some people so desperately crave becoming one. We even have our Christian celebrities too, big-name authors, speakers, musicians, whatever.
But I think mostly for me, while I scoff at celebrities and the people who worship them, I sometimes wish it could be me up there. I wish that people would come ask what I think about this or that, and film me for the latest documentary about whatever subject in which I am a leading expert. I hope my articles get noticed; I want to write the latest best-seller; I want somebody to buy my photographs; I hope my stuff gets read and that people think it’s cool and relevant or whatever. So I suppose I’m not exempt from the celebrity thing either.
Therein lies the rub…the tension between the person wishing to become the next Christian celebrity and the guy sitting on the couch, doing a PhD in pajamas.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Somebody's Got to Do Something
Once again we on the leadership council thank those of you who sacrificed and made it out for tonight’s emergency meeting. As for those who aren’t here, obviously they didn’t care enough about the fate of our church. Evidently they couldn’t be bothered to make the effort to come to this meeting and cast their vote, but that’s between them and God now. The rest of us will simply have to take care of business as we know He would want us to conduct it—in the fairest way possible, of course—the way we’ve always run this church.
Let’s cut right to the chase and get down to business. It’s been several years since we had to hold one of these emergency meetings. You will doubtless remember the unfortunate situation when we had to let Pastor Jesus go. Once again we find ourselves in a similar situation, but for somewhat different reasons.
If you don’t know why you are here tonight, then you must be out of the loop. Most of you know what this is about: the abuse of power. Pastor John is starting to become a dictator, a despot who’s trying to run this church the way he sees fit! And we on the council, as those appointed to shepherd this flock, have a big problem with that.
What do we mean by that? Well, you are all aware that we were very clear as to what we felt this church needed when we hired Pastor John three years ago. He knew that he was being hired to serve the people of this church! That’s what pastors do, isn’t it? Don’t you all agree with that? Why, that’s the very essence of ministry—to minister to others. Right? Of course it’s right, it’s in the Bible.
We think we can pinpoint when the trouble all began. About six months ago, Pastor John actually had the audacity to come to the council and complain that he was working too many hours, and that he wasn’t able to spend enough time with his family. We, of course, were generous: we told him that he could cut back to sixty-five hours a week. We even found someone to mow the lawns for him so he didn’t have to do it on Saturday evenings any more! Of course, he still has to go out on Saturdays during the day and do the door-to-door witnessing, but at least he gets the evening off now. What more could he want?
It hardly needs to be said that we care about he and his family. We even decided that next year, we would let him have a sabbatical: one weekend off, two days to go wherever he likes for a well-deserved rest. All he needs to do is to make sure that he brings a qualified pastor in to preach that day—from a church who lines up with our doctrinal statement—and find somebody to lead the worship in his place.
We’ll have to deduct the time from his pay check, obviously, but we all agreed that by that time the man will certainly need a rest. If you remember, we had to cancel his vacation last year because there were too many things going on around the church to let him leave. Now, no one can say we’re not generous—we even said that his wife could go along too. All he has to do is to pay her way, provided that she finds someone to play the piano in her place during the morning’s service, and someone to teach her Sunday School classes that day as well. Surely that is not too much to ask, is it? Of course it isn’t.
Now for most pastors, this would have been more than enough to keep them happy. Don’t you think we’ve been more than accommodating with Pastor John and his family? We thought so too, thought the problem was all but solved and things could get back to normal. But a few months ago, Pastor John came to the council again and said that somebody had given him a book on church leadership and church growth, and he had actually read it on his own, without discussing it with us first. The man hadn’t even told us what book he was reading! That kind of secretive behavior can’t be good in a pastor—a spiritual leader, no less—who is supposed to model transparency and authenticity.
Since then, things have gone from bad to worse. We hardly need to explain what’s been happening in the last few months around here. We’ve got a full-scale rebellion on our hands, and this from the man who is supposed to a servant leader! Pastor John has actually tried to set up what he calls “ministry teams,” but thank God so far nobody in this church has responded to his appeals.
He’s even been talking some nonsense about letting other people preach from time to time, and not fellow pastors from other churches either! He wants people from this church to preach for him! What’s next, will some other person start teaching his Sunday School classes or his weekday home groups? He’s even had the audacity to suggest that we change the worship service, and bring a guitar up on stage! That way his wife won’t have to play the piano any more. Even she is in on it.
But if you ask us on the council, it sounds to us like the man is simply trying to get out of work. Remember why we hired Pastor John: to preach the Word and grow this church. We have always been more than clear—just look at his job description! And now he’s trying to shirk his duties by getting other people to do his job for him. What did he go to Bible College and seminary for? So somebody else could do his work in his place?
We hardly need to remind you all that it is our job on the leadership council to make sure that the wishes of this congregation are represented as fairly as possible. Not only that, but to make sure that if changes do need to happen, they will come about in such a way that everybody is happy with them. We all know that change is inevitable, but why alienate people in the process? Why break with time-honored traditions when there seems to be no need to do so?
We feel that we have been more than fair with Pastor John, but there comes a point when one reaches the limit. We’re at that point now, and something has got to be done about it. So in the interest of fairness, we’re going to ask all of you now to cast your vote on the piece of paper in front of you. Tell us what you would like to see happen. You’ll notice there are two choices: One, we have to let Pastor John go, or two, we keep him on—but with a reprimand—and we will demand that his dictatorial behavior stops now, and things go back to normal.
Does everybody have a pen or a pencil?
Let’s cut right to the chase and get down to business. It’s been several years since we had to hold one of these emergency meetings. You will doubtless remember the unfortunate situation when we had to let Pastor Jesus go. Once again we find ourselves in a similar situation, but for somewhat different reasons.
If you don’t know why you are here tonight, then you must be out of the loop. Most of you know what this is about: the abuse of power. Pastor John is starting to become a dictator, a despot who’s trying to run this church the way he sees fit! And we on the council, as those appointed to shepherd this flock, have a big problem with that.
What do we mean by that? Well, you are all aware that we were very clear as to what we felt this church needed when we hired Pastor John three years ago. He knew that he was being hired to serve the people of this church! That’s what pastors do, isn’t it? Don’t you all agree with that? Why, that’s the very essence of ministry—to minister to others. Right? Of course it’s right, it’s in the Bible.
We think we can pinpoint when the trouble all began. About six months ago, Pastor John actually had the audacity to come to the council and complain that he was working too many hours, and that he wasn’t able to spend enough time with his family. We, of course, were generous: we told him that he could cut back to sixty-five hours a week. We even found someone to mow the lawns for him so he didn’t have to do it on Saturday evenings any more! Of course, he still has to go out on Saturdays during the day and do the door-to-door witnessing, but at least he gets the evening off now. What more could he want?
It hardly needs to be said that we care about he and his family. We even decided that next year, we would let him have a sabbatical: one weekend off, two days to go wherever he likes for a well-deserved rest. All he needs to do is to make sure that he brings a qualified pastor in to preach that day—from a church who lines up with our doctrinal statement—and find somebody to lead the worship in his place.
We’ll have to deduct the time from his pay check, obviously, but we all agreed that by that time the man will certainly need a rest. If you remember, we had to cancel his vacation last year because there were too many things going on around the church to let him leave. Now, no one can say we’re not generous—we even said that his wife could go along too. All he has to do is to pay her way, provided that she finds someone to play the piano in her place during the morning’s service, and someone to teach her Sunday School classes that day as well. Surely that is not too much to ask, is it? Of course it isn’t.
Now for most pastors, this would have been more than enough to keep them happy. Don’t you think we’ve been more than accommodating with Pastor John and his family? We thought so too, thought the problem was all but solved and things could get back to normal. But a few months ago, Pastor John came to the council again and said that somebody had given him a book on church leadership and church growth, and he had actually read it on his own, without discussing it with us first. The man hadn’t even told us what book he was reading! That kind of secretive behavior can’t be good in a pastor—a spiritual leader, no less—who is supposed to model transparency and authenticity.
Since then, things have gone from bad to worse. We hardly need to explain what’s been happening in the last few months around here. We’ve got a full-scale rebellion on our hands, and this from the man who is supposed to a servant leader! Pastor John has actually tried to set up what he calls “ministry teams,” but thank God so far nobody in this church has responded to his appeals.
He’s even been talking some nonsense about letting other people preach from time to time, and not fellow pastors from other churches either! He wants people from this church to preach for him! What’s next, will some other person start teaching his Sunday School classes or his weekday home groups? He’s even had the audacity to suggest that we change the worship service, and bring a guitar up on stage! That way his wife won’t have to play the piano any more. Even she is in on it.
But if you ask us on the council, it sounds to us like the man is simply trying to get out of work. Remember why we hired Pastor John: to preach the Word and grow this church. We have always been more than clear—just look at his job description! And now he’s trying to shirk his duties by getting other people to do his job for him. What did he go to Bible College and seminary for? So somebody else could do his work in his place?
We hardly need to remind you all that it is our job on the leadership council to make sure that the wishes of this congregation are represented as fairly as possible. Not only that, but to make sure that if changes do need to happen, they will come about in such a way that everybody is happy with them. We all know that change is inevitable, but why alienate people in the process? Why break with time-honored traditions when there seems to be no need to do so?
We feel that we have been more than fair with Pastor John, but there comes a point when one reaches the limit. We’re at that point now, and something has got to be done about it. So in the interest of fairness, we’re going to ask all of you now to cast your vote on the piece of paper in front of you. Tell us what you would like to see happen. You’ll notice there are two choices: One, we have to let Pastor John go, or two, we keep him on—but with a reprimand—and we will demand that his dictatorial behavior stops now, and things go back to normal.
Does everybody have a pen or a pencil?
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Emerging Church?
A group of believers had become fed up with what the traditional church had become. There were several problems they had with the traditional church. For one thing, the sermons were predictable as well as boring. Every week, it seemed like preachers offered up the same tired, formulaic sermons. Preachers utilized confusing outline formats, with multiple points, and tried to wax eloquent, but obtained the same old results. Even though they preached from the Bible, sometimes with very careful studies of the Greek and Hebrew, and tried to apply it, somehow it didn’t seem like people’s lives were changing all that much. It appeared that many people attended church out of a sense of duty and little else.
These believers also felt that the traditional churches had leadership structures that were authoritarian and formal. The churches were cold and sterile places where there seemed to be little appeal to the emotional side of people. There also seemed to be little place for women in ministry as well. Church leaders clung to their formal leadership structures, but at the same time appeared to be insincere about their faith journey. Where was the authenticity and transparency? These believers desired a dynamic walk with God, but the traditional church just was not meeting their needs.
To make matters worse, the traditional church spent a lot of time and energy on two tasks: first, they defended their doctrines against other churches that disagreed with them. Their theologians wrote bigger and bigger volumes of doctrine and systematic theology, to the point where every aspect of the faith was scrutinized and refined. Second, the traditional church had seminaries and universities that turned out educated ministers, trained in the traditional ways. They interpreted the Bible, preached sermons, and led their congregations in the ways in which they had been taught. It seemed that in every way, the status quo would be maintained.
One Christian man believed that things had gone on long enough. He and a group of these disgruntled Christians decided to start meeting in his home every Wednesday and Sunday. What would they do? Their ultimate goal was to come alongside each other and encourage each other in the Christian faith. This emerging church encouraged all believers—men and women alike—to live out their faith and minister to others, and to rely less on formal structures of church leadership. They met regularly in homes to pray, to discuss the previous week's sermon, and to apply passages from Scripture and devotional writings to individual lives.
This leader of the emerging church eventually wrote a book outlining the problems with the traditional church, as well as what could be done about it. In it he criticized the ministers of the traditional churches for substituting cold doctrine for warm faith. He also outlined six basic values to which he believed this emerging church should hold:
1. There should be more of an extensive use of the Bible among Christians, and that Christians should help each other in their spiritual journey.
2. That each believer is called to serve others, regardless of gender, education, background, etc. Every believer is a priest. Believers should not rely on professional ministers to do the works of ministry.
3. Christianity should go beyond mere knowledge and be demonstrated by everyday practice, in the workplace, home, school, or church.
4. There should be restraint as well as love regarding religious disputes. He felt that rather than arguing people into the Kingdom, Christians should show love toward nonbelievers and those who wish to argue, and to pray for them and be kind to them instead.
5. Theological schools should be reformed: Future ministers and church leaders should be trained not just in academics but also in how to love others in practical ways, and how to succeed in a life of Christian devotion with the help of other Christians.
6. Preachers should preach sermons that actually build up their listeners, rather than engaging in pointless and technical sermons, in which few were interested or could even understand and/or apply.
So take your best guess: What period of time in the church’s history am I describing?
Believe it or not, this is not a description of the postmodern ‘emerging church’ of today that is fed up with traditional, modernist churches and is seeking its own way. All of this took place in Germany nearly 350 years ago, in 1675. A group of Christians, led by a man named Phillipp Jakob Spener, became known as the “Pietists” because they desired to emphasize more the practicalities of Christian life and less the formal structures of theology or church order. The Pietists had a profound impact on Christianity as they tried to help and encourage each other live out the Christian life in practical ways.
Some Pietists, like August Hermann Francke, were profoundly impacted by Spener’s teaching. Spener and Francke went on to found the University of Halle in Germany in 1691, and Francke taught the students by example what Pietism could mean when put into practice. He opened up his own home for poor children, founded a world-famous orphanage, established an institute for the training of teachers, and later he helped found a publishing house, a medical clinic, and other institutions. At Halle, Francke encouraged the translation of the Bible into other languages and encouraged graduates to go into foreign missions, which they did. Other groups, like the Moravians, also sent out some of the first foreign missionaries, as they tried to put Christian faith into practice.
The Pietist movement would also have a major impact on Wesley and what would become the Methodist church. Pietists also worked among German settlers in America in the 18th and 19th centuries and had a major impact there as well as in sending out others to the mission field. Even today its influence is felt in the church as there is still the desire among many Christians not to rest until they find intimate fellowship with God himself.
(This article drew on the article by Mark A. Noll, "Pietism" in The Elwell Evangelical Dictionary).
These believers also felt that the traditional churches had leadership structures that were authoritarian and formal. The churches were cold and sterile places where there seemed to be little appeal to the emotional side of people. There also seemed to be little place for women in ministry as well. Church leaders clung to their formal leadership structures, but at the same time appeared to be insincere about their faith journey. Where was the authenticity and transparency? These believers desired a dynamic walk with God, but the traditional church just was not meeting their needs.
To make matters worse, the traditional church spent a lot of time and energy on two tasks: first, they defended their doctrines against other churches that disagreed with them. Their theologians wrote bigger and bigger volumes of doctrine and systematic theology, to the point where every aspect of the faith was scrutinized and refined. Second, the traditional church had seminaries and universities that turned out educated ministers, trained in the traditional ways. They interpreted the Bible, preached sermons, and led their congregations in the ways in which they had been taught. It seemed that in every way, the status quo would be maintained.
One Christian man believed that things had gone on long enough. He and a group of these disgruntled Christians decided to start meeting in his home every Wednesday and Sunday. What would they do? Their ultimate goal was to come alongside each other and encourage each other in the Christian faith. This emerging church encouraged all believers—men and women alike—to live out their faith and minister to others, and to rely less on formal structures of church leadership. They met regularly in homes to pray, to discuss the previous week's sermon, and to apply passages from Scripture and devotional writings to individual lives.
This leader of the emerging church eventually wrote a book outlining the problems with the traditional church, as well as what could be done about it. In it he criticized the ministers of the traditional churches for substituting cold doctrine for warm faith. He also outlined six basic values to which he believed this emerging church should hold:
1. There should be more of an extensive use of the Bible among Christians, and that Christians should help each other in their spiritual journey.
2. That each believer is called to serve others, regardless of gender, education, background, etc. Every believer is a priest. Believers should not rely on professional ministers to do the works of ministry.
3. Christianity should go beyond mere knowledge and be demonstrated by everyday practice, in the workplace, home, school, or church.
4. There should be restraint as well as love regarding religious disputes. He felt that rather than arguing people into the Kingdom, Christians should show love toward nonbelievers and those who wish to argue, and to pray for them and be kind to them instead.
5. Theological schools should be reformed: Future ministers and church leaders should be trained not just in academics but also in how to love others in practical ways, and how to succeed in a life of Christian devotion with the help of other Christians.
6. Preachers should preach sermons that actually build up their listeners, rather than engaging in pointless and technical sermons, in which few were interested or could even understand and/or apply.
So take your best guess: What period of time in the church’s history am I describing?
Believe it or not, this is not a description of the postmodern ‘emerging church’ of today that is fed up with traditional, modernist churches and is seeking its own way. All of this took place in Germany nearly 350 years ago, in 1675. A group of Christians, led by a man named Phillipp Jakob Spener, became known as the “Pietists” because they desired to emphasize more the practicalities of Christian life and less the formal structures of theology or church order. The Pietists had a profound impact on Christianity as they tried to help and encourage each other live out the Christian life in practical ways.
Some Pietists, like August Hermann Francke, were profoundly impacted by Spener’s teaching. Spener and Francke went on to found the University of Halle in Germany in 1691, and Francke taught the students by example what Pietism could mean when put into practice. He opened up his own home for poor children, founded a world-famous orphanage, established an institute for the training of teachers, and later he helped found a publishing house, a medical clinic, and other institutions. At Halle, Francke encouraged the translation of the Bible into other languages and encouraged graduates to go into foreign missions, which they did. Other groups, like the Moravians, also sent out some of the first foreign missionaries, as they tried to put Christian faith into practice.
The Pietist movement would also have a major impact on Wesley and what would become the Methodist church. Pietists also worked among German settlers in America in the 18th and 19th centuries and had a major impact there as well as in sending out others to the mission field. Even today its influence is felt in the church as there is still the desire among many Christians not to rest until they find intimate fellowship with God himself.
(This article drew on the article by Mark A. Noll, "Pietism" in The Elwell Evangelical Dictionary).
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
In Search of an Authentic Experience
Q: Who had more influence on music, Chopin or Jim Morrison?
A: I don’t know, but they are both buried at Pere-Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.
Recently we were in Paris and I absolutely had to make the pilgrimage to the world famous Pere-Lachaise Cemetery. I realize that there are many famous graves there, including Oscar Wilde, Balzac, Sarah Bernhardt and many others. For me, though, I wasn’t there to do the typical “tourist thing” and check off one more site to see. It was a personal pilgrimage that had a lot of deeper reasons behind it.
When I was in high school in the 1980s I lived next door to my two cousins, Andy and Dan. Dan introduced me to the music of The Doors and for several years they were a huge part of my life. I can remember driving around the Seattle area in Dan’s beat-up car that didn’t even have a tape deck in it. We had to bring along a battery-powered boom box so we could listen to “Riders on the Storm” and “LA Woman” at full volume.
Dan and I were very close. We went through U.S. Navy boot camp together in San Diego shortly after high school, and a couple of years after that suffered the loss of his brother Andy, who was killed in a drunk driving accident. Dan didn’t handle it very well and sort of went his own way for a while: he was kicked out of the Navy for drugs, went off and fished in Alaska, then tried to hold down several different jobs, but wasn’t having much success out of life.
It was down in Portland at Bible college, literally on the day my first daughter was born, that I heard the sad news: Dan had committed suicide after a night of heavy drinking. He put a gun in his mouth in the parking lot of a tavern near Seattle, and ended it all. For him I suppose all the rage at everybody—the world, his abusive father, whatever—finally proved to be too much when coupled with a massive intake of Jack Daniels.
One thing Dan had mentioned to me a few years earlier in passing conversation was that, when he died, he wanted The Doors’ “Break on Through to the Other Side” played at his funeral. Sadly this request was not honored, and I have always vowed to visit his grave and play the song, which is something I have not done as of yet, nearly fifteen years after his death. It’s one of those things I just gotta do…
So to return to our recent trip to Paris and my journey to Pere-Lachaise: I wanted to visit Morrison’s grave, not in order to have my picture taken in front of it like most of the other tourists, but as a true pilgrimage. I wanted to sit in the quiet, with the trees and the sunshine, and reflect about my life, my experiences with Dan (the good times and the bad times), and what part The Doors’ music had played in all of that. But sadly, this was not to be.
By the time I found the grave (which can be quite difficult in a cemetery without many straight paths), I was ready to do some reflecting. But no—the grave itself is protected with a steel fence. There were tourists all around it taking pictures of each other. One Chinese student asked me in broken English if I would take her picture in front of “Jeem Moreeson grave?”
Finally I had my ten seconds in front of the grave and took a couple of pictures, just to be able to remember it later. Looking at the famous graffiti on the tomb next to Morrison’s was disappointing as well, since they had clearly scrubbed off previous graffito. I was hoping to read stuff that went back to the 1970s, but it was all gone. All the contributions were from 2008…whatever. Just then a yuppie couple from the States came up to start taking pictures of the grave. The wife asked the husband, “Now who was Jim Morrison again?” Husband: “I think he was some kind of an actor or something…” I couldn’t bear to listen and had to get out of there.
I wandered around the cemetery for a while taking some pictures, and then finally found a bench in front of a rotunda with a statue. I thought this would be a good, quiet place finally to reflect on my life, The Doors, and cousin Dan. But no, this also was not to be; the quiet reverie of Pere-Lachaise was rudely shattered. Two American teenagers sat down at the bench next to me and then one began a long—and quite loud—conversation on her cell phone with somebody in high school French. Frustrated, my reflective mood evaporated, and I finally gave up and left to explore the cemetery.
So what’s it all about? To be perfectly honest, I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that there are times when I need to take time out seriously to think about my life; where I’ve come from, what kinds of experiences have shaped me, and how various people have come in and out of my life, and what an impact they have had. Even a guy like Jim Morrison—who died only a few years after I was born—had an impact. Certainly Dan had an impact. I can’t overlook the good times we had, and I still miss him.
I promise you Dan, the next time I’m in the Seattle area, I’ll visit your grave and play “Break on Through” for you.
A: I don’t know, but they are both buried at Pere-Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.
Recently we were in Paris and I absolutely had to make the pilgrimage to the world famous Pere-Lachaise Cemetery. I realize that there are many famous graves there, including Oscar Wilde, Balzac, Sarah Bernhardt and many others. For me, though, I wasn’t there to do the typical “tourist thing” and check off one more site to see. It was a personal pilgrimage that had a lot of deeper reasons behind it.
When I was in high school in the 1980s I lived next door to my two cousins, Andy and Dan. Dan introduced me to the music of The Doors and for several years they were a huge part of my life. I can remember driving around the Seattle area in Dan’s beat-up car that didn’t even have a tape deck in it. We had to bring along a battery-powered boom box so we could listen to “Riders on the Storm” and “LA Woman” at full volume.
Dan and I were very close. We went through U.S. Navy boot camp together in San Diego shortly after high school, and a couple of years after that suffered the loss of his brother Andy, who was killed in a drunk driving accident. Dan didn’t handle it very well and sort of went his own way for a while: he was kicked out of the Navy for drugs, went off and fished in Alaska, then tried to hold down several different jobs, but wasn’t having much success out of life.
It was down in Portland at Bible college, literally on the day my first daughter was born, that I heard the sad news: Dan had committed suicide after a night of heavy drinking. He put a gun in his mouth in the parking lot of a tavern near Seattle, and ended it all. For him I suppose all the rage at everybody—the world, his abusive father, whatever—finally proved to be too much when coupled with a massive intake of Jack Daniels.
One thing Dan had mentioned to me a few years earlier in passing conversation was that, when he died, he wanted The Doors’ “Break on Through to the Other Side” played at his funeral. Sadly this request was not honored, and I have always vowed to visit his grave and play the song, which is something I have not done as of yet, nearly fifteen years after his death. It’s one of those things I just gotta do…
So to return to our recent trip to Paris and my journey to Pere-Lachaise: I wanted to visit Morrison’s grave, not in order to have my picture taken in front of it like most of the other tourists, but as a true pilgrimage. I wanted to sit in the quiet, with the trees and the sunshine, and reflect about my life, my experiences with Dan (the good times and the bad times), and what part The Doors’ music had played in all of that. But sadly, this was not to be.
By the time I found the grave (which can be quite difficult in a cemetery without many straight paths), I was ready to do some reflecting. But no—the grave itself is protected with a steel fence. There were tourists all around it taking pictures of each other. One Chinese student asked me in broken English if I would take her picture in front of “Jeem Moreeson grave?”
Finally I had my ten seconds in front of the grave and took a couple of pictures, just to be able to remember it later. Looking at the famous graffiti on the tomb next to Morrison’s was disappointing as well, since they had clearly scrubbed off previous graffito. I was hoping to read stuff that went back to the 1970s, but it was all gone. All the contributions were from 2008…whatever. Just then a yuppie couple from the States came up to start taking pictures of the grave. The wife asked the husband, “Now who was Jim Morrison again?” Husband: “I think he was some kind of an actor or something…” I couldn’t bear to listen and had to get out of there.
I wandered around the cemetery for a while taking some pictures, and then finally found a bench in front of a rotunda with a statue. I thought this would be a good, quiet place finally to reflect on my life, The Doors, and cousin Dan. But no, this also was not to be; the quiet reverie of Pere-Lachaise was rudely shattered. Two American teenagers sat down at the bench next to me and then one began a long—and quite loud—conversation on her cell phone with somebody in high school French. Frustrated, my reflective mood evaporated, and I finally gave up and left to explore the cemetery.
So what’s it all about? To be perfectly honest, I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that there are times when I need to take time out seriously to think about my life; where I’ve come from, what kinds of experiences have shaped me, and how various people have come in and out of my life, and what an impact they have had. Even a guy like Jim Morrison—who died only a few years after I was born—had an impact. Certainly Dan had an impact. I can’t overlook the good times we had, and I still miss him.
I promise you Dan, the next time I’m in the Seattle area, I’ll visit your grave and play “Break on Through” for you.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
The Great Pretender
As Karl—Homer Simpson’s assistant—said to him, “You don’t belong here. You’re a fraud and a phony, and it’s only a matter of time before they find you out.” And Homer gasps and says, “Who told you?”—his worst fears realized.
We the viewers are privy to the truth—Homer is indeed a fraud and a phoney, an absolute incompetent—and his promotion came about because of his new head of hair. Nothing else.
This episode brings up an issue that many of us, both in teaching and ministry professions, struggle with mightily: the impostor syndrome. Not the title of a Robert Ludlum novel, it is what adult educator Stephen Brookfield writes about in his work Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher (Jossey-Bass 1995, pp. 229-235).
What is “the impostor syndrome?” Brookfield explains that it is the fear that we have, deep down inside, that at some point—like Homer—we are going to be unmasked for the frauds that we truly are. Whether it is a teacher in front of a class, a preacher in the pulpit, or a youth leader addressing a group of teens, the dynamics are the same.
We feel like impostors. We feel that we don’t really deserve to be taken seriously; that if the people we’re about to address knew the truth of the matter we’d be finished. What is that “truth”? The truth is that we feel as if we really don’t know what we are doing. We feel as if our teaching or preaching is being done under false pretenses, and at some point the ugly truth will finally come out.
Brookfield says, “We wear an external mask of control, but beneath it we know that really we are frail figures, struggling to make it through to the end of each day. There is the sense that a
around the corner is an unforeseen but cataclysmic event that will reveal us as frauds” (p. 230).
Following our public and humiliating unveiling, our colleagues and employers, he states, will shake their heads and wonder how they could have ever been so stupid as to hire such an obvious incompetent in the first place. Is it any wonder that we as teachers and church leaders have to spend so much energy desperately avoiding the certain humiliation of being found out for the frauds we truly are?
The reality is that the impostor syndrome takes on many forms. One may manifest itself in an academic context: As a teacher I worry that I have to know everything there is to know about a subject before I teach it, otherwise that one troublesome student in the class who happens to know more about it than I do will unmask me—in front of everyone—for the fraud that I truly am.
Within the classroom setting, the impostor syndrome affects students as well. A student may think, “I don’t belong in this class. Clearly I don’t know as much as some of these other, smarter students. So I will sit in the back row and say nothing, for fear of being unmasked for a fraud.”
And we are all familiar with the student who thinks, “The teacher doesn’t belong here. She is a fraud and a phony, and it is my job to unmask her for the fake that she is.” In my experience there always seems to be one or two of these types of students in every Bible college or seminary classroom. These students make the teachers’ jobs a living nightmare, especially when the dynamic of arguing theological minutiae comes into play.
The impostor syndrome affects those involved in church leadership as well. I spent seven years as an elder and a pastor working myself into the ground to try and prove that I was not an impostor. I reasoned that if I kept all the plates spinning, made sure that all the ministries hummed along nicely, and never made a single mistake, there would be no grounds for criticism. The truth is I was desperately avoiding being found out. No one could be allowed to see through my façade. Even the slightest criticism could be devastating.
How can we deal with the impostor syndrome? Brookfield argues that the essential ingredient is to make it public. “Once impostorship is named as an everyday experience,” he points out, “it loses much of its power” (p. 233). When we hear others—particularly those whom we admire—admit that they struggle with the same issues many of the effects of the syndrome are defused.
A second, equally important factor is to address the culture within which we are working. Unless it is a safe place for teachers and church leaders to disclose their struggles, no one will admit their deepest apprehensions for fear of being eaten alive or worse, being fired when the truth comes out. It is the job of leadership to create and maintain a safe and healthy culture so that issues like impostorship can be discussed without fear of reprisal.
Surprisingly, however, if properly controlled impostorship can actually be productively troubling, says Brookfield. Somehow there needs to be a balance: on the one hand, there can be an arrogant sense of overdeveloped overconfidence. On the other hand if taken to an extreme, impostorship can be crippling. Identifying and challenging the feelings of impostorship with which we struggle is precisely what opens up possibilities for us to realign our ways of thinking and practice.
We the viewers are privy to the truth—Homer is indeed a fraud and a phoney, an absolute incompetent—and his promotion came about because of his new head of hair. Nothing else.
This episode brings up an issue that many of us, both in teaching and ministry professions, struggle with mightily: the impostor syndrome. Not the title of a Robert Ludlum novel, it is what adult educator Stephen Brookfield writes about in his work Becoming a Critically Reflective Teacher (Jossey-Bass 1995, pp. 229-235).
What is “the impostor syndrome?” Brookfield explains that it is the fear that we have, deep down inside, that at some point—like Homer—we are going to be unmasked for the frauds that we truly are. Whether it is a teacher in front of a class, a preacher in the pulpit, or a youth leader addressing a group of teens, the dynamics are the same.
We feel like impostors. We feel that we don’t really deserve to be taken seriously; that if the people we’re about to address knew the truth of the matter we’d be finished. What is that “truth”? The truth is that we feel as if we really don’t know what we are doing. We feel as if our teaching or preaching is being done under false pretenses, and at some point the ugly truth will finally come out.
Brookfield says, “We wear an external mask of control, but beneath it we know that really we are frail figures, struggling to make it through to the end of each day. There is the sense that a
around the corner is an unforeseen but cataclysmic event that will reveal us as frauds” (p. 230).
Following our public and humiliating unveiling, our colleagues and employers, he states, will shake their heads and wonder how they could have ever been so stupid as to hire such an obvious incompetent in the first place. Is it any wonder that we as teachers and church leaders have to spend so much energy desperately avoiding the certain humiliation of being found out for the frauds we truly are?
The reality is that the impostor syndrome takes on many forms. One may manifest itself in an academic context: As a teacher I worry that I have to know everything there is to know about a subject before I teach it, otherwise that one troublesome student in the class who happens to know more about it than I do will unmask me—in front of everyone—for the fraud that I truly am.
Within the classroom setting, the impostor syndrome affects students as well. A student may think, “I don’t belong in this class. Clearly I don’t know as much as some of these other, smarter students. So I will sit in the back row and say nothing, for fear of being unmasked for a fraud.”
And we are all familiar with the student who thinks, “The teacher doesn’t belong here. She is a fraud and a phony, and it is my job to unmask her for the fake that she is.” In my experience there always seems to be one or two of these types of students in every Bible college or seminary classroom. These students make the teachers’ jobs a living nightmare, especially when the dynamic of arguing theological minutiae comes into play.
The impostor syndrome affects those involved in church leadership as well. I spent seven years as an elder and a pastor working myself into the ground to try and prove that I was not an impostor. I reasoned that if I kept all the plates spinning, made sure that all the ministries hummed along nicely, and never made a single mistake, there would be no grounds for criticism. The truth is I was desperately avoiding being found out. No one could be allowed to see through my façade. Even the slightest criticism could be devastating.
How can we deal with the impostor syndrome? Brookfield argues that the essential ingredient is to make it public. “Once impostorship is named as an everyday experience,” he points out, “it loses much of its power” (p. 233). When we hear others—particularly those whom we admire—admit that they struggle with the same issues many of the effects of the syndrome are defused.
A second, equally important factor is to address the culture within which we are working. Unless it is a safe place for teachers and church leaders to disclose their struggles, no one will admit their deepest apprehensions for fear of being eaten alive or worse, being fired when the truth comes out. It is the job of leadership to create and maintain a safe and healthy culture so that issues like impostorship can be discussed without fear of reprisal.
Surprisingly, however, if properly controlled impostorship can actually be productively troubling, says Brookfield. Somehow there needs to be a balance: on the one hand, there can be an arrogant sense of overdeveloped overconfidence. On the other hand if taken to an extreme, impostorship can be crippling. Identifying and challenging the feelings of impostorship with which we struggle is precisely what opens up possibilities for us to realign our ways of thinking and practice.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Living Outside the Box
The other night I sat at a pub with a couple of friends discussing, among other things, our journeys through life, theology, and our stance toward the traditional church. One of the guys was named Brian and I had only just met him that night. Somewhere in his mid-50s, Brian has led an interesting life since coming to know Christ some 40 years ago at L’Abri in Switzerland (yes, that’s the Francis Schaeffer).
As I was sharing with Brian details of my own journey, he finally looked at me and said: “Well, coming from someone who’s been on this journey for nearly 40 years, here’s the good news—you’ve only just begun the journey. Keep moving forward!” I was somewhat startled by that statement, because up until that point I had—mistakenly, as it turns out—thought I was doing pretty good with myself. But he was not being condescending, he was being encouraging. From his point of view, I’m just a little baby taking those first tentative steps, while he’s been walking along for decades now.
Certainly it doesn’t mean he has everything figured out—not by a long stretch. But it is kind of humbling to think about it. Not that I have arrived at all, but I thought I had made some major strides from where I was just a few years ago. I suppose I have, but then the next question came up: Where do I go from here? What do the next steps look like?
Brian sat back after I posed that question and said, “Well, if you could answer that question, there’d really be no point, would there.” Thinking I was being clever, I shot back: “Well, it seems to me that the main thing is to think outside the box.” Just as quickly he returned with, “Actually, the problem is not merely thinking outside the box. It’s learning to live outside the box that is the real challenge.”
What I got out of our conversation the other night was that in all honesty, it is all too easy to sit back and criticize the traditional, Western church for all of its shortcomings.—to name a few: a rationalistic theological bias, its propositional idea-centered preaching, its lack of engagement with the emerging culture, and its increasingly outmoded styles of leadership. And the thing is, those criticisms are all too close to the mark. They’re probably all true. The church does need to get its head out of the sand; the church does need to realize that in about 20 or 30 years, the baby-boomers who are filling its seats will be dying off, and then what?
But in my conversation with Brian, I walked away challenged by it all. It’s fairly easy to sit back and sling arrows at the bloated, inefficient, increasingly irrelevant entity that the traditional, Western church is becoming. But it is quite another thing to do something about it—in a positive sense. For me, it comes down to the two values of ownership and expression—something I stole from our church in Portland, Imagine Church Community.
It is not enough merely to own something; the step beyond it is to begin to express it too. Take spiritual gifts, for example: Learning what your gifts are is but the ownership end of the equation. Beginning to express them through various aspects of ministry is the other side of the coin: expression.
This relates to our discussion of criticizing the traditional church as well. My ownership of the conception that things are horribly wrong is not nearly enough; for me, I have to begin to work out ways of expressing those convictions in a positive way other than sitting back and criticizing. The beauty of those two values is that they are just abstract enough that individuals can go away and work out what it means for him or her, in their particular and unique context of life and ministry.
For example, it’s like what Barth said about Jesus—that he came not only to reveal the Father, but also to show us as humans what we could be like as well. As one who was completely undistracted by sin, and free from the self-deceptions and self-interests that plague us, he could have done anything he liked. So what did he do? He really only did a couple of things: One, he lived always to serve the Father, and two, he lived always to serve others. He was truly a relational, communal person.
Barth says that in this way, Christ is our example of what it means to become truly human: Live to serve God and others, and exist in true community. But for me the key is this: Those elements are just abstract enough so as not to become a formula. What does it mean to serve God, serve others, and live in authentic community? For each of us it means something different, as we work out the implications for ourselves.
Getting back to the point about the church, for me it is a major challenge to begin to work out those abstractions of ownership and expression as it relates to my own sense of mission. I have no idea what it means, other than to serve God and to serve others, and to pursue authentic, intentional community. If somehow those can take place within some conception of “church,” then, as I see it, so much the better.
Is this what it means to try and live outside the box?
As I was sharing with Brian details of my own journey, he finally looked at me and said: “Well, coming from someone who’s been on this journey for nearly 40 years, here’s the good news—you’ve only just begun the journey. Keep moving forward!” I was somewhat startled by that statement, because up until that point I had—mistakenly, as it turns out—thought I was doing pretty good with myself. But he was not being condescending, he was being encouraging. From his point of view, I’m just a little baby taking those first tentative steps, while he’s been walking along for decades now.
Certainly it doesn’t mean he has everything figured out—not by a long stretch. But it is kind of humbling to think about it. Not that I have arrived at all, but I thought I had made some major strides from where I was just a few years ago. I suppose I have, but then the next question came up: Where do I go from here? What do the next steps look like?
Brian sat back after I posed that question and said, “Well, if you could answer that question, there’d really be no point, would there.” Thinking I was being clever, I shot back: “Well, it seems to me that the main thing is to think outside the box.” Just as quickly he returned with, “Actually, the problem is not merely thinking outside the box. It’s learning to live outside the box that is the real challenge.”
What I got out of our conversation the other night was that in all honesty, it is all too easy to sit back and criticize the traditional, Western church for all of its shortcomings.—to name a few: a rationalistic theological bias, its propositional idea-centered preaching, its lack of engagement with the emerging culture, and its increasingly outmoded styles of leadership. And the thing is, those criticisms are all too close to the mark. They’re probably all true. The church does need to get its head out of the sand; the church does need to realize that in about 20 or 30 years, the baby-boomers who are filling its seats will be dying off, and then what?
But in my conversation with Brian, I walked away challenged by it all. It’s fairly easy to sit back and sling arrows at the bloated, inefficient, increasingly irrelevant entity that the traditional, Western church is becoming. But it is quite another thing to do something about it—in a positive sense. For me, it comes down to the two values of ownership and expression—something I stole from our church in Portland, Imagine Church Community.
It is not enough merely to own something; the step beyond it is to begin to express it too. Take spiritual gifts, for example: Learning what your gifts are is but the ownership end of the equation. Beginning to express them through various aspects of ministry is the other side of the coin: expression.
This relates to our discussion of criticizing the traditional church as well. My ownership of the conception that things are horribly wrong is not nearly enough; for me, I have to begin to work out ways of expressing those convictions in a positive way other than sitting back and criticizing. The beauty of those two values is that they are just abstract enough that individuals can go away and work out what it means for him or her, in their particular and unique context of life and ministry.
For example, it’s like what Barth said about Jesus—that he came not only to reveal the Father, but also to show us as humans what we could be like as well. As one who was completely undistracted by sin, and free from the self-deceptions and self-interests that plague us, he could have done anything he liked. So what did he do? He really only did a couple of things: One, he lived always to serve the Father, and two, he lived always to serve others. He was truly a relational, communal person.
Barth says that in this way, Christ is our example of what it means to become truly human: Live to serve God and others, and exist in true community. But for me the key is this: Those elements are just abstract enough so as not to become a formula. What does it mean to serve God, serve others, and live in authentic community? For each of us it means something different, as we work out the implications for ourselves.
Getting back to the point about the church, for me it is a major challenge to begin to work out those abstractions of ownership and expression as it relates to my own sense of mission. I have no idea what it means, other than to serve God and to serve others, and to pursue authentic, intentional community. If somehow those can take place within some conception of “church,” then, as I see it, so much the better.
Is this what it means to try and live outside the box?
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
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