In college, I was very involved in a ministry called the Baptist Student Ministry. We would gather for Bible Studies, for worship through music , for dinner. We would spend time together outside the walls of the building, many of us became roommates in our years at A&M. We would talk as much about theology as we did about Aggie football (back when it was, you know, good). They were people I could share secrets with, people who would share advice and ask it in return. People I trusted my life to. Running into them on a trek across campus would bring us mutual smiles, and a conversation to follow.
I was repeatedly informed that the BSM, as we called it, was not meant to be our church, so go find one.
I tried numerous churches. Many of them looked the same, with different music and slightly different styles of teaching. I would stick with one for a while, but the connection just never seemed to be there. Some of these churches had huge college ministries, but there were already developed groups within these ministries, and the church at large had little to do with the students. I eventually found a church that I loved, stuck with it and ended landing an internship and ultimately being an interim youth and college guy there.
From there I went into the ministry and served with several churches. Each one was a lot like the ones I went to in college, again with a difference in teaching and music styles. But I noticed a trend. Even though the churches I served in were in small towns, that deeper sense of community I felt at the BSM was not there. Sure, they knew each other, maybe a little too well, but it never went deep when it came to their faith. It became a very big problem for me.
See, I had seen Acts 2:42-47 in action, not with the churches I served, but with that group of college believers that lived with, learned with, grew with. We prayed deeply with each other, where most churches I knew of went through their weekly list and that was it. We talked about God and the Bible at a depth greater than what I got at seminary, the churches I knew talked about the high school teams with the proficiency of ESPN announcers. About twenty of my BSM friends drove an hour and a half to my Dad's funeral ( a man they had never met), most churches would drive in their casserole.
I'm not saying these things that churches do are bad- but they are far less than best.
It wasn't until probably four or five years after I graduated college that I really understood why I easily loved the BSM, and struggled to love the churches I attended. There was an organic nature to what we did as college students. We met together out of hunger, desire, passion, and genuine love for Christ and each other- that was ALL that drew us together. Many churches are drawn together because of these things, too, but they are in addition to family tradition, convenience and preference of styles.
Acts 2 tells us that the early church was birthed out of an awesome shared experience that brought people of a multitude of nations together. They came to know Christ, and all their differences faded into a commonality of love for Him. I saw a glimpse of that as a college student, and I strive and pray to see that again with our church today. And I don't think that any church is too far gone to get back to that- if they want to take the risk of letting each other in.
The deepest community of believers I have ever known was in my life ten years ago. What about you, when did you know true fellowship, true connection and belonging with other believers? I want to know that again, but deeper, longer, truer. What about you?
Monday, April 19, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
It's Not My Problem
So I was just walking in downtown Bryan to get our office mail. I do this primarily because I need the change of scenery from what my regular four walls of dreariness provide. But, it has been beautiful the last few days, and the temps aren't too bad right now. It is a bit windy for this part of Texas, though.
So I'm walking, feeling the wind and tiny drops of rain that evaporate as soon as they hit me when I notice something fluttering in the gusts. Apparently, a bunch of circulars for Sears were lost in the street and were being scattered by the overly gusty wind. Some were in the street, others right in my path. I stepped over them and kept walking. "It's not my problem," I thought.
I'd walked a few more steps when I felt as though someone inside me was saying, "Then whose problem is it, if not yours?" It's one of those slow motion movie moments where I'm still moving, but this dialogue is going by in my head at lightning speed. I thought of the city workers, who would pick it up, but hey wouldn't be down there to do something so small until the papers were long gone. My fellow citizens could do it, but they weren't right then. Store owners also might be motivated to keep their storefronts neat, but the rate these things were blowing they didn't sit long enough in one place to be a real nuisance. As this lightning round ended, I realized that no one else would deal with this problem- but I saw it as a problem, and there was nothing preventing me from picking up at least the stuff on the sidewalk. I was not darting in front of traffic, however.
So every paper that crossed my path, I picked up and found a trash can for. And I began to think about how often we say, "It's not my problem." I'm not talking about litter and environmental stuff here, though that is part of this. No, I mean how often do we see someone in need and think that we don't have to intervene? I know there have often been times when I have seen a friend or co-worker have to do something unpleasant, and my thought has been, "I'm glad it is them and not me." How often do we see someone clearly struggle with big questions, life and eternity altering questions, and we do everything we can to avoid making eye contact lest they engage with us. How often have you watched your spouse do the dishes or the laundry and quietly slumped down on the couch or pretended not to hear their call for help? No one? Just me?
What is wrong with us a people, and as a society, is that we have an "It's not my problem," mentality. We have a government welfare system because somewhere along the way people and institutions that used to take care of people stopped. Whether it was because they couldn't (hello, Great Depression) or because they wouldn't doesn't matter. When prosperity returned, generosity didn't. You may protest, "But Chad, I'm in need, too. I live paycheck to paycheck, how can I help when I have nothing left to give?" You know what, I'm there, too. But why does generosity HAVE to materialistic? Give your time, your attention, your physical aid. I would love to give more money to my church, to missionaries I know, local aid groups, to things like Haiti relief, but I don't have money. What I do have is the ability to pray, to spend a Saturday morning at a food pantry, or simply listen when a friend has a crappy day/week/month.
The fact is, too many times we step over a broken, hurting person on our way somewhere, because "It's not our problem." Let the government, the mission, the chur-(Wait, I'm the church), the philanthropists deal with them. We are not Good Samaritans, but priests and Levites too busy or unconcerned to stop and help the bleeding man. We are holy, and do not want to be defiled. We are righteous, and do not want to be seen with sinners.
I picked up those papers because they became my problem. What changed was not the circumstance, or the amount of papers, or the reward for picking them up. What changed was my perspective. Something bothered me, and I set about making it right. I didn't ask someone else to do it for me, I didn't wait for the government to fix it, and I didn't petition a church committee to see it done. I saw a need and addressed it.
What is "Not your problem?" It is time to make it your problem, and do something about it.
So I'm walking, feeling the wind and tiny drops of rain that evaporate as soon as they hit me when I notice something fluttering in the gusts. Apparently, a bunch of circulars for Sears were lost in the street and were being scattered by the overly gusty wind. Some were in the street, others right in my path. I stepped over them and kept walking. "It's not my problem," I thought.
I'd walked a few more steps when I felt as though someone inside me was saying, "Then whose problem is it, if not yours?" It's one of those slow motion movie moments where I'm still moving, but this dialogue is going by in my head at lightning speed. I thought of the city workers, who would pick it up, but hey wouldn't be down there to do something so small until the papers were long gone. My fellow citizens could do it, but they weren't right then. Store owners also might be motivated to keep their storefronts neat, but the rate these things were blowing they didn't sit long enough in one place to be a real nuisance. As this lightning round ended, I realized that no one else would deal with this problem- but I saw it as a problem, and there was nothing preventing me from picking up at least the stuff on the sidewalk. I was not darting in front of traffic, however.
So every paper that crossed my path, I picked up and found a trash can for. And I began to think about how often we say, "It's not my problem." I'm not talking about litter and environmental stuff here, though that is part of this. No, I mean how often do we see someone in need and think that we don't have to intervene? I know there have often been times when I have seen a friend or co-worker have to do something unpleasant, and my thought has been, "I'm glad it is them and not me." How often do we see someone clearly struggle with big questions, life and eternity altering questions, and we do everything we can to avoid making eye contact lest they engage with us. How often have you watched your spouse do the dishes or the laundry and quietly slumped down on the couch or pretended not to hear their call for help? No one? Just me?
What is wrong with us a people, and as a society, is that we have an "It's not my problem," mentality. We have a government welfare system because somewhere along the way people and institutions that used to take care of people stopped. Whether it was because they couldn't (hello, Great Depression) or because they wouldn't doesn't matter. When prosperity returned, generosity didn't. You may protest, "But Chad, I'm in need, too. I live paycheck to paycheck, how can I help when I have nothing left to give?" You know what, I'm there, too. But why does generosity HAVE to materialistic? Give your time, your attention, your physical aid. I would love to give more money to my church, to missionaries I know, local aid groups, to things like Haiti relief, but I don't have money. What I do have is the ability to pray, to spend a Saturday morning at a food pantry, or simply listen when a friend has a crappy day/week/month.
The fact is, too many times we step over a broken, hurting person on our way somewhere, because "It's not our problem." Let the government, the mission, the chur-(Wait, I'm the church), the philanthropists deal with them. We are not Good Samaritans, but priests and Levites too busy or unconcerned to stop and help the bleeding man. We are holy, and do not want to be defiled. We are righteous, and do not want to be seen with sinners.
I picked up those papers because they became my problem. What changed was not the circumstance, or the amount of papers, or the reward for picking them up. What changed was my perspective. Something bothered me, and I set about making it right. I didn't ask someone else to do it for me, I didn't wait for the government to fix it, and I didn't petition a church committee to see it done. I saw a need and addressed it.
What is "Not your problem?" It is time to make it your problem, and do something about it.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Where Do We Go From Here?
When we first started the Gate here in College Station, I was meeting pretty often with another local pastor. He told me of a church that had attempted to do much the same thing we were doing, but after a few years, their sponsor church pulled funding, and they were left wondering what to do. They felt very strongly that God had called them to serve here, and to reach the students. They had been reaching people, but they weren't as successful as their parent church wanted them to be. I was told that they were asking the question of "Where do we go from here?"
Most of the time, when I hear that question, it is asked after some sort of tragedy, or failure, some rug-pulled-out-from-under-you moment. The question just always carries an air of confusion with it that seems best fit to not so good moments.
What if we are asking the question in the wrong way? It is a great question simply because it begins to motivate us to survive and pull ourselves back up to our feet. Maybe it should not be a question asked when someone dies, or we lose a job, or fail a test. It doesn't have to be a question asked out of despair- what if it is a question asked out of a deep sense of hope and excitement?
I have always talked about three key questions we need to ask ourselves- this being one of them.
Where Have I Been?
We are who we have grown to be. Our memories, our experiences, victories and yes, our scars, shape our identity. But since I've kinda beat this horse to death and back lately, I'll move on.
Where Am I Going?/Where Do I Go From Here?
We need vision, and we need it badly. Proverbs 29:18 says "Where there is no revelation, the people cast off restraint; but blessed is he who keeps the law." Without vision, we are anarchy, uncontrolled, un-apologetically hedonistic- we are animals. Vision is focus. And vision has become a church buzz-word in last decade. Sad to say, it seems it is often used to describe the type of programming the church offers. I've seen and known pastors whose vision is solely based upon the book they just read or seminar they just attended. These are good things, in and of themselves, but where is the personal vision for the people they serve? Or for themselves? Why stop at the leadership? The people need a vision for themselves and for the church they are the hands and feet for. Too many times I see churches with a visionary leader, but not churches of visionaries. Where are YOU going? Because your direction and your church's direction are tied together. You, after all, are the church.
Who Am I?
Identity. We can't know it until we remember from whence we came and determine where we intend to go. So much of our life is spent trying to find that out. The truth is, identity is not static. Sure, you will always have some things at your core, but politics, outlooks, some of your personality, preferences, and yes, even your religious views can and will change over the span of your life. In high school, I was a single, argumentative, arrogant, competitive, and intellectual. Now, I'm married.
So the truth is that our identity is tied to where we are going. We need to know not necessarily the end destination, we just need the vision for the next step. But we NEED vision. I have a vision for where our church will end up, where I personally want to be in a few years, but both of those, in order to happen, must begin with a vision for tomorrow. And a vision of tomorrow begins with looking at yesterday and today and asking, "Where do I go from here?"
Most of the time, when I hear that question, it is asked after some sort of tragedy, or failure, some rug-pulled-out-from-under-you moment. The question just always carries an air of confusion with it that seems best fit to not so good moments.
What if we are asking the question in the wrong way? It is a great question simply because it begins to motivate us to survive and pull ourselves back up to our feet. Maybe it should not be a question asked when someone dies, or we lose a job, or fail a test. It doesn't have to be a question asked out of despair- what if it is a question asked out of a deep sense of hope and excitement?
I have always talked about three key questions we need to ask ourselves- this being one of them.
Where Have I Been?
We are who we have grown to be. Our memories, our experiences, victories and yes, our scars, shape our identity. But since I've kinda beat this horse to death and back lately, I'll move on.
Where Am I Going?/Where Do I Go From Here?
We need vision, and we need it badly. Proverbs 29:18 says "Where there is no revelation, the people cast off restraint; but blessed is he who keeps the law." Without vision, we are anarchy, uncontrolled, un-apologetically hedonistic- we are animals. Vision is focus. And vision has become a church buzz-word in last decade. Sad to say, it seems it is often used to describe the type of programming the church offers. I've seen and known pastors whose vision is solely based upon the book they just read or seminar they just attended. These are good things, in and of themselves, but where is the personal vision for the people they serve? Or for themselves? Why stop at the leadership? The people need a vision for themselves and for the church they are the hands and feet for. Too many times I see churches with a visionary leader, but not churches of visionaries. Where are YOU going? Because your direction and your church's direction are tied together. You, after all, are the church.
Who Am I?
Identity. We can't know it until we remember from whence we came and determine where we intend to go. So much of our life is spent trying to find that out. The truth is, identity is not static. Sure, you will always have some things at your core, but politics, outlooks, some of your personality, preferences, and yes, even your religious views can and will change over the span of your life. In high school, I was a single, argumentative, arrogant, competitive, and intellectual. Now, I'm married.
So the truth is that our identity is tied to where we are going. We need to know not necessarily the end destination, we just need the vision for the next step. But we NEED vision. I have a vision for where our church will end up, where I personally want to be in a few years, but both of those, in order to happen, must begin with a vision for tomorrow. And a vision of tomorrow begins with looking at yesterday and today and asking, "Where do I go from here?"
Monday, April 12, 2010
Have We Lost Our Way?
The other day, I was driving and ran into stalled traffic. As I was on a relatively rural stretch of road, and was growing impatient and hungry, I found a nearby side road and assumed I could get around the traffic jam. Things were going good, until I saw a "No Outlet" sign, which I promptly ignored. The road kept going, so I didn't really give it much thought. Then it ended.
It was noon, so trying to judge which direction I was pointed was useless, and the only way to go, was back the way I came. For a moment, I felt lost. And still hungry.
If "Life is a Highway," then it stands to reason that sometimes we get a little lost. We take a shortcut, we want to sight-see a bit, we ignore the map (or for you modern-minded folks, turn off the GPS). Warning signs appear, which we ignore because there is not any indication that the sign is accurate. We drive on, maybe out of pride, until we can't go anymore. That is only if we're lucky. If we're not lucky, our shortcut through the brush leads us to be the first person to discover the Grand Canyon that no one knows about because we quickly fall to our death. Seriously, that thing comes out of nowhere.
You have a heart palpitation and you go to the doctor. Your car takes up smoking, you go to the mechanic. You notice something strange with your bank account, you call the bank. Signs warn us of these things, but what about on a more personal level. Do you notice you seem to be angrier, less in control of yourself, lying with more skill? What about relationships? Are there warning signs that maybe this relationship is not where it should be, or that certain people are not the best influences?
Do you find yourself less and less convicted over doing something wrong? These are the scary ones for me. Sometimes, I find myself inching closer and closer to the line of what I shouldn't be doing. All around, signs warn that there is "No Outlet," or that I'm reaching a point of no return. Yet because of pride or self control or impatience, I press on. It is as if I have crushed Jimeny Cricket under foot and pressed on. ( I find it interesting that the mascot for the conscience is an easily squished creature.) For the Christian, the Holy Spirit is ignored, and if ignored enough, we cease to even hear Him.
The truth is, when we take the shortcuts- be they to get around traffic, or earn money, or seek intimacy- we are saying we are too important to wait on what God is planning for us. See, had I waited about five more minutes, that traffic would have cleared up, as I found when I got back to where I started that day. But waiting on God is a lost art, that is, if we ever found it.
We-you me, the Church- have lost our way. We have taken the shortcuts of reading self-help books rather than seeking God's advice; of discipleship classes instead of actual, deep, hands on discipleship; of following another church's program instead of seeking our own vision for our church. We are called to wait upon God. It was what He asked of the disciples in Acts 1. He told them to stay in the city and wait for Him to send the Holy Spirit and then receive power. We cannot be 'microwave' followers of an 'oven' Christ.
Once we have lost our way, it may take time to find the path again. The place to begin is in learning to wait, and to wait with grace.
It was noon, so trying to judge which direction I was pointed was useless, and the only way to go, was back the way I came. For a moment, I felt lost. And still hungry.
If "Life is a Highway," then it stands to reason that sometimes we get a little lost. We take a shortcut, we want to sight-see a bit, we ignore the map (or for you modern-minded folks, turn off the GPS). Warning signs appear, which we ignore because there is not any indication that the sign is accurate. We drive on, maybe out of pride, until we can't go anymore. That is only if we're lucky. If we're not lucky, our shortcut through the brush leads us to be the first person to discover the Grand Canyon that no one knows about because we quickly fall to our death. Seriously, that thing comes out of nowhere.
You have a heart palpitation and you go to the doctor. Your car takes up smoking, you go to the mechanic. You notice something strange with your bank account, you call the bank. Signs warn us of these things, but what about on a more personal level. Do you notice you seem to be angrier, less in control of yourself, lying with more skill? What about relationships? Are there warning signs that maybe this relationship is not where it should be, or that certain people are not the best influences?
Do you find yourself less and less convicted over doing something wrong? These are the scary ones for me. Sometimes, I find myself inching closer and closer to the line of what I shouldn't be doing. All around, signs warn that there is "No Outlet," or that I'm reaching a point of no return. Yet because of pride or self control or impatience, I press on. It is as if I have crushed Jimeny Cricket under foot and pressed on. ( I find it interesting that the mascot for the conscience is an easily squished creature.) For the Christian, the Holy Spirit is ignored, and if ignored enough, we cease to even hear Him.
The truth is, when we take the shortcuts- be they to get around traffic, or earn money, or seek intimacy- we are saying we are too important to wait on what God is planning for us. See, had I waited about five more minutes, that traffic would have cleared up, as I found when I got back to where I started that day. But waiting on God is a lost art, that is, if we ever found it.
We-you me, the Church- have lost our way. We have taken the shortcuts of reading self-help books rather than seeking God's advice; of discipleship classes instead of actual, deep, hands on discipleship; of following another church's program instead of seeking our own vision for our church. We are called to wait upon God. It was what He asked of the disciples in Acts 1. He told them to stay in the city and wait for Him to send the Holy Spirit and then receive power. We cannot be 'microwave' followers of an 'oven' Christ.
Once we have lost our way, it may take time to find the path again. The place to begin is in learning to wait, and to wait with grace.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate
I started reading an article on net neutrality the other day. Within a paragraph my eyes glazed over. Lots of words that I didn't understand passed in front of my eyes before finding a paragraph that was written in human rather than some sort of hybrid tech/legal language. This was not the first time I had encountered a comprehension road block due to language.
Ca 1996
The family and I went to buy some firewood. Dad encountered a worker who spoke only Spanish. Since I was well versed with a semester of high school Spanish, Dad turned to me. I managed to ask him, "Donde es boss-man?" This clearly told him I was fluent, and so he unleashed a fast torrent of his native tongue. Aaaaand failure.
Spring Break 2001
On a trip to Germany with some college friends for mission work, I was constantly approached by the Germans and spoken to as though I were one of them. Maybe it was the black leather jacket and five o'clock shadow from our luggage getting lost that threw them off. I did manage to learn to say "Vo ist de wasser closet?" (which is where is the water closet, because "Vo ist de badenzimmer-bathroom-?" is apparently a hilarious faux pas.)
Anytime Computer People Talk to Me About Computers
C++, API, BASIC, Unix, Root. If it's more complex than keyboard, mouse, or screen- use words that a child could understand. Otherwise, the glazed eyes will return faster than you can say 'motherboard.' Of course it goes both ways...
Comic Books
I try to explain the concept of Green Lantern, or why there have actually been five (or six, depending which series you count) Robins, and my wife goes to her happy place.
Ever since the Tower of Babel and God scrambling our language to keep from trying to overthrow Him, language has been a barrier. More than just the separation caused languages like Swahili and French, it is also the barrier between the way men and women communicate, the way people of different backgrounds and jobs communicate.
The way the Church and the outside world communicate.
I call it "church-speak," and it is very divisive. We have words that we use casually, and frequently and assume others know what they mean. The words themselves are often not the problem, it is the fact that their true meaning has often gotten lost in a fog of traditions and years of mis- and re-interpretations. These are good words, Biblical words. So in an effort to help those who may not understand them- and I believe there are a number of Church-goers who don't understand them, either- here is a brief glossary of terms as I use them.
Salvation- Jesus offers to forgive us of our sins, thus allowing to have a relationship with God starting now and continuing after our mortal bodies die.
Sin- Mistakes we make, anytime we do something that does not line up with what God expects of us, as He lays it out in the Bible.
Sanctification- The process that begins with salvation of cleansing our lives of sin. We are not perfect at salvation, and God continues to work in us through sanctification.
Fellowship- The activities and act of believers living life together, praying for each other, helping each other and being involved with each other. A casserole dish is not a requirement despite the fact that many believe this. And it is not confined to a hall.
Redeemed/Redemption- Jesus traded His life for ours. He didn't deserve to be punished- He had no sin. But we did, so He gave himself for us, and thus gave us value.
Holiness- To be set apart. Untouched by sin and evil. This does not mean that we stay away from sinful people or things- we just need to remain untouched by it. We are reserved for God, holiness is giving ourselves totally to Him, and not our own desires and plans.
So, there you go. A few words I use often and what I mean when I use them. Hopefully clarity will ensue when we have these little conversations. And for those folks that were wondering, the five Robins are Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown (very briefly before Drake took back over), Damian Wayne. The sixth was Carrie Kelly, from the apocryphal Dark Knight Returns. Now, we understand each other.
Ca 1996
The family and I went to buy some firewood. Dad encountered a worker who spoke only Spanish. Since I was well versed with a semester of high school Spanish, Dad turned to me. I managed to ask him, "Donde es boss-man?" This clearly told him I was fluent, and so he unleashed a fast torrent of his native tongue. Aaaaand failure.
Spring Break 2001
On a trip to Germany with some college friends for mission work, I was constantly approached by the Germans and spoken to as though I were one of them. Maybe it was the black leather jacket and five o'clock shadow from our luggage getting lost that threw them off. I did manage to learn to say "Vo ist de wasser closet?" (which is where is the water closet, because "Vo ist de badenzimmer-bathroom-?" is apparently a hilarious faux pas.)
Anytime Computer People Talk to Me About Computers
C++, API, BASIC, Unix, Root. If it's more complex than keyboard, mouse, or screen- use words that a child could understand. Otherwise, the glazed eyes will return faster than you can say 'motherboard.' Of course it goes both ways...
Comic Books
I try to explain the concept of Green Lantern, or why there have actually been five (or six, depending which series you count) Robins, and my wife goes to her happy place.
Ever since the Tower of Babel and God scrambling our language to keep from trying to overthrow Him, language has been a barrier. More than just the separation caused languages like Swahili and French, it is also the barrier between the way men and women communicate, the way people of different backgrounds and jobs communicate.
The way the Church and the outside world communicate.
I call it "church-speak," and it is very divisive. We have words that we use casually, and frequently and assume others know what they mean. The words themselves are often not the problem, it is the fact that their true meaning has often gotten lost in a fog of traditions and years of mis- and re-interpretations. These are good words, Biblical words. So in an effort to help those who may not understand them- and I believe there are a number of Church-goers who don't understand them, either- here is a brief glossary of terms as I use them.
Salvation- Jesus offers to forgive us of our sins, thus allowing to have a relationship with God starting now and continuing after our mortal bodies die.
Sin- Mistakes we make, anytime we do something that does not line up with what God expects of us, as He lays it out in the Bible.
Sanctification- The process that begins with salvation of cleansing our lives of sin. We are not perfect at salvation, and God continues to work in us through sanctification.
Fellowship- The activities and act of believers living life together, praying for each other, helping each other and being involved with each other. A casserole dish is not a requirement despite the fact that many believe this. And it is not confined to a hall.
Redeemed/Redemption- Jesus traded His life for ours. He didn't deserve to be punished- He had no sin. But we did, so He gave himself for us, and thus gave us value.
Holiness- To be set apart. Untouched by sin and evil. This does not mean that we stay away from sinful people or things- we just need to remain untouched by it. We are reserved for God, holiness is giving ourselves totally to Him, and not our own desires and plans.
So, there you go. A few words I use often and what I mean when I use them. Hopefully clarity will ensue when we have these little conversations. And for those folks that were wondering, the five Robins are Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown (very briefly before Drake took back over), Damian Wayne. The sixth was Carrie Kelly, from the apocryphal Dark Knight Returns. Now, we understand each other.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Bored of Lesser Worship
Sunday night, a small group gathered at our home for a non-traditional celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus. We sat around, talking mostly, making s'mores on the firepit, and briefly reading from John about Jesus' Easter evening appearance at the disciples home.
Jeremy and Angie had come to town to visit family, and they dropped in to join us. Jeremy had led worship for the Gate on a prior occasion, and I value his input on worship. So, I was a little surprised by our conversation regarding worship.
He made the comment that he thought modern worship was lacking something. That despite our increasingly skilled worship leaders, the advances were all in music. He wondered what happened to old stuff. Stuff like New Testament Church stuff. Like prayers for certain times of day. Like old, dare I say 'rituals,' that marked the young believers of Paul and Peter's day.
I have often thought about something similar- how if you are a music person, now is an awesome time for you to worship. Boundaries of what worship music is are being pushed creatively, old songs are given new life with roaring guitars and synthesized electronica. We don't do creeds, we don't do poetry, we don't do art. We don't pray during our services, except to open, close, or fill a gap in the music.
I love the current age of worship music, but Jeremy's comments made me realize something: I was growing bored with lesser worship.
The Gate struggles with this as well. We have music and message. We do try different things with the taking of Communion, and we have devoted times occassionally to solely praying. But we often find ourselves subtly aware of a rut forming around us.
I think there are a lot of people who feel the same way. Church is boring, not because it is not entertaining, but because it is not challenging. We fear boring people, so there is no 'dead air.' Art is not for everyone, so it is not used in worship outside the backgrounds on the screen- and artists feel left out. We don't teach people that the 'mundane' things we do are acts of worship, and tithing is a lost act.
We need to re-invigorate worship. One area we have tried to do this is in the area of the tithe, or offering.
"Churches always ask for money." This cliche rings true because no one- church leaders included- seems to understand that giving money is an act of worship. It is an act of saying we trust God to provide for us when we give. It is worship in that we are sacrificing. It is an act of worship in that we are distinguishing that the Lord is our god, not money. It is an act of worship that we are learing to have a giving heart, preparing us to be giving with each other.
We don't pass a plate, by the way. We have a beer mug at the back of the meeting area. We've resisted the urge to label it "Tips for Jesus." This isn't it, but you get the idea:
There is also worship for us in that the mug is a message in itself. Fill the mug with beer repeatedy and you get an ignoble purpose. Fill it with Jaegermeister and, well that goes beyond ignoble. But when this mug, for many an image of something less than holy, is used for collecting the offering, it is redeemed. We too, are often used for things less than holy, yet when filled with the Holy Spirit, we are redeemed- we are made worthy of God.
I'm going to paraphrase Jeremy here (OK put words in his mouth) but I think he would say that part of what is missing in today's worship is that much of it has lost deeper meaning. Time was that everything done in worship was a symbol, it pointed to something deeper. Our church forefathers were reminded by every thing they saw, every action they took part in, of something greater. Things were not done to fill the time alotted, they were done to remember Christ. Because of this, they never grew bored of lesser worship.
They were filled with Worship of the Greater.
Jeremy and Angie had come to town to visit family, and they dropped in to join us. Jeremy had led worship for the Gate on a prior occasion, and I value his input on worship. So, I was a little surprised by our conversation regarding worship.
He made the comment that he thought modern worship was lacking something. That despite our increasingly skilled worship leaders, the advances were all in music. He wondered what happened to old stuff. Stuff like New Testament Church stuff. Like prayers for certain times of day. Like old, dare I say 'rituals,' that marked the young believers of Paul and Peter's day.
I have often thought about something similar- how if you are a music person, now is an awesome time for you to worship. Boundaries of what worship music is are being pushed creatively, old songs are given new life with roaring guitars and synthesized electronica. We don't do creeds, we don't do poetry, we don't do art. We don't pray during our services, except to open, close, or fill a gap in the music.
I love the current age of worship music, but Jeremy's comments made me realize something: I was growing bored with lesser worship.
The Gate struggles with this as well. We have music and message. We do try different things with the taking of Communion, and we have devoted times occassionally to solely praying. But we often find ourselves subtly aware of a rut forming around us.
I think there are a lot of people who feel the same way. Church is boring, not because it is not entertaining, but because it is not challenging. We fear boring people, so there is no 'dead air.' Art is not for everyone, so it is not used in worship outside the backgrounds on the screen- and artists feel left out. We don't teach people that the 'mundane' things we do are acts of worship, and tithing is a lost act.
We need to re-invigorate worship. One area we have tried to do this is in the area of the tithe, or offering.
"Churches always ask for money." This cliche rings true because no one- church leaders included- seems to understand that giving money is an act of worship. It is an act of saying we trust God to provide for us when we give. It is worship in that we are sacrificing. It is an act of worship in that we are distinguishing that the Lord is our god, not money. It is an act of worship that we are learing to have a giving heart, preparing us to be giving with each other.
We don't pass a plate, by the way. We have a beer mug at the back of the meeting area. We've resisted the urge to label it "Tips for Jesus." This isn't it, but you get the idea:
There is also worship for us in that the mug is a message in itself. Fill the mug with beer repeatedy and you get an ignoble purpose. Fill it with Jaegermeister and, well that goes beyond ignoble. But when this mug, for many an image of something less than holy, is used for collecting the offering, it is redeemed. We too, are often used for things less than holy, yet when filled with the Holy Spirit, we are redeemed- we are made worthy of God.
I'm going to paraphrase Jeremy here (OK put words in his mouth) but I think he would say that part of what is missing in today's worship is that much of it has lost deeper meaning. Time was that everything done in worship was a symbol, it pointed to something deeper. Our church forefathers were reminded by every thing they saw, every action they took part in, of something greater. Things were not done to fill the time alotted, they were done to remember Christ. Because of this, they never grew bored of lesser worship.
They were filled with Worship of the Greater.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Why I Struggle with Easter
It happens to the best of us- Facebook status writer's block.
On a normal day, that's nothing. People assume you are too busy to write a witty remark, or you think yesterday's report was good enough for two days. But this past Friday and Sunday were not normal days. Status after status proclaimed that the day(s) was/were a day(s) of recognition for the death and Resurrection of Jesus.
And I had nothing.
Truth is, they are just days to me. I don't begrudge you for your excitement that you celebrate that day, but I really don't get all worked up about it. So, I don't post the traditional "He is Risen!"(C) or something. To me it would be insincere, and thus dishonest for me to post or bounce from person to person with a Joe Osteen type grin trying desperately to prove to everyone (and myself) that Sunday is a really a better day for me than Friday. Other than getting to sleep in, it's not much different.
I think there are a couple reasons why I feel this way. And to be honest, I'm not calling people out so much as I am struggling to find why I feel the way I do about that day, and why others do as well.
Commercialism
I actually have no problem with Egg Hunts, Cadbury Cream Eggs, and the inexplicable use of a bunny as the mascot. It really comes from the commercialization that comes from Christians. We spend so much time trying to 'sell' Easter Sunday. Maybe it's because we think that more people attend church on that day than others, so we put on a better service, amp up the entertainment value, put a little extra polish on the music and the message. We talk more about the resurrection and new life and empty tombs and the cross and things rising on that one weekend than we do for the rest of the year combined. Easter Sunday is like Super Bowl Sunday, Black Friday, and Election Day all rolled into one. Get'em there, sell them the message, and get them to make a choice. It comes across as commercialism to me because it seems we are selling a single event. Where is this excitement for Jesus the rest of the year.
Expectation
I'm expected to be extremely "Yay, Jesus!" that day. I mean, I really have to be extra happy, extra smiley, and I have to respond to "He is Risen!" with an equal to or greater than amount of gusto, "He is Risen, Indeed!" On Non- Christians go, "Dorks." What used to be a way for the ostracized and outlawed believers to identify themselves secretly to each other has in itself become something that ostracizes us on its own. Like much of our 'Church Speak,' it distances us form others who don't speak our language. I'm not advocating abandoning these truthful and relevant phrases, but that we not use them in a way to divide. When I look at and listen to believers who talk about God in church terms constantly, or only post scripture for their status updates or tweets, I again think that even though they are genuine in their comment, non-believers may think they are just meeting expectations. They never acknowledge their struggles, or their doubts, they seem too...perfect. And thus unrelatable to ordinary people. I never want to be accused of saying something just because it's expected of me, I want to say because I mean it, and in a way that says, "This is from me, in my words, from my heart." (I am not downing quoting scripture, merely the possibility that some people hide behind it to prevent the rest of us from knowing what is really going on with them.)
Everyday Resurrection
I am not saying this to appear super-spiritual, but every day is Resurrection Day to me. Everyday I am reminded that I couldn't follow Jesus' commands even if I was on a leash and looking for His bread crumbs. Everyday I am reminded He had to die for me because of this, and that because He didn't stay dead I can have hope of finding His life. I am daily confronted with the realization that I put him on that cross. Each day brings fresh evidence of His promise to return and make it all right. That Spring Sunday holds no other difference for me other than my kids search for bright eggs left by some strange cross-species bunny/chicken hybrid that is still a little creepy if you think about it. It is not special to me because each day is Resurrection day.
So, I hope I don't offend you with this, but this is my thinking. I don't hold you to agree with me, let alone force you to comply with my reasoning here. Truth be told, my feelings may be a total 180 by next year, but then, that is the nature of following Christ. He takes us places we would never go to learn things and see things we would never pursue. All to draw us closer to Him.
On a normal day, that's nothing. People assume you are too busy to write a witty remark, or you think yesterday's report was good enough for two days. But this past Friday and Sunday were not normal days. Status after status proclaimed that the day(s) was/were a day(s) of recognition for the death and Resurrection of Jesus.
And I had nothing.
Truth is, they are just days to me. I don't begrudge you for your excitement that you celebrate that day, but I really don't get all worked up about it. So, I don't post the traditional "He is Risen!"(C) or something. To me it would be insincere, and thus dishonest for me to post or bounce from person to person with a Joe Osteen type grin trying desperately to prove to everyone (and myself) that Sunday is a really a better day for me than Friday. Other than getting to sleep in, it's not much different.
I think there are a couple reasons why I feel this way. And to be honest, I'm not calling people out so much as I am struggling to find why I feel the way I do about that day, and why others do as well.
Commercialism
I actually have no problem with Egg Hunts, Cadbury Cream Eggs, and the inexplicable use of a bunny as the mascot. It really comes from the commercialization that comes from Christians. We spend so much time trying to 'sell' Easter Sunday. Maybe it's because we think that more people attend church on that day than others, so we put on a better service, amp up the entertainment value, put a little extra polish on the music and the message. We talk more about the resurrection and new life and empty tombs and the cross and things rising on that one weekend than we do for the rest of the year combined. Easter Sunday is like Super Bowl Sunday, Black Friday, and Election Day all rolled into one. Get'em there, sell them the message, and get them to make a choice. It comes across as commercialism to me because it seems we are selling a single event. Where is this excitement for Jesus the rest of the year.
Expectation
I'm expected to be extremely "Yay, Jesus!" that day. I mean, I really have to be extra happy, extra smiley, and I have to respond to "He is Risen!" with an equal to or greater than amount of gusto, "He is Risen, Indeed!" On Non- Christians go, "Dorks." What used to be a way for the ostracized and outlawed believers to identify themselves secretly to each other has in itself become something that ostracizes us on its own. Like much of our 'Church Speak,' it distances us form others who don't speak our language. I'm not advocating abandoning these truthful and relevant phrases, but that we not use them in a way to divide. When I look at and listen to believers who talk about God in church terms constantly, or only post scripture for their status updates or tweets, I again think that even though they are genuine in their comment, non-believers may think they are just meeting expectations. They never acknowledge their struggles, or their doubts, they seem too...perfect. And thus unrelatable to ordinary people. I never want to be accused of saying something just because it's expected of me, I want to say because I mean it, and in a way that says, "This is from me, in my words, from my heart." (I am not downing quoting scripture, merely the possibility that some people hide behind it to prevent the rest of us from knowing what is really going on with them.)
Everyday Resurrection
I am not saying this to appear super-spiritual, but every day is Resurrection Day to me. Everyday I am reminded that I couldn't follow Jesus' commands even if I was on a leash and looking for His bread crumbs. Everyday I am reminded He had to die for me because of this, and that because He didn't stay dead I can have hope of finding His life. I am daily confronted with the realization that I put him on that cross. Each day brings fresh evidence of His promise to return and make it all right. That Spring Sunday holds no other difference for me other than my kids search for bright eggs left by some strange cross-species bunny/chicken hybrid that is still a little creepy if you think about it. It is not special to me because each day is Resurrection day.
So, I hope I don't offend you with this, but this is my thinking. I don't hold you to agree with me, let alone force you to comply with my reasoning here. Truth be told, my feelings may be a total 180 by next year, but then, that is the nature of following Christ. He takes us places we would never go to learn things and see things we would never pursue. All to draw us closer to Him.
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