New Look, Same Old Taste

When the vision of The Core and the Front Porch were in their embryonic stages, (a glimmer in our eyes, so to speak) I was writing a lot of negative stuff about the sacrosanctity of our church service formats. "Why should everything revolve around the sermon?" I asked. "What would happen if we skipped the music entirely?" I inquired. "Why are we so stuck in our predictable little routines?" I demanded.

For the most part, I've out-grown it. My thoughts run along different lines now. But from time to time, it creeps back in, and I ask myself if we have honed ourselves into a happy little rut of our own. Here's how it goes:

-Brunch at 10 am
-Two songs at 10:30 from worship team
-Announcements (Explaining the stuff on the table, upcoming events)
-Misc. (could be Communion, Baby Dedication, Interview, etc.)
-Introduction to Prayer (may include a sermonette)
-Group Prayer for 15 minutes
-Solo worship song while prayer continues
-Prayer from worship leader to re-unify the room
-Two more songs from worship team
-Message (3 weeks out of 4, from Ryan, the other week, from another leader)
-Closing Prayer
-Fellowship & Cleaning

As I've noticed how little we deviate from this pattern, the old insecurities come creeping in, and make me wonder if we have become what we hate. That is, religion by rote. Instead of a vibrant communal spirituality.

Although I have deemed it a bit immature, like I said, to be overly critical of the "order of service", I think it is something I will never stop worrying about. Nevertheless, I feel like I've been given somewhat of a new perspective on the "packaging" of church.

When you're pushing your cart down the cereal aisle, looking for something new to try, packaging is going to influence you. But once you've tried a few, and found the cereal you really like, you won't care all that much what they do to the box. You might have a passing thought if they re-design it, but as long as it holds the cereal, and it's easy to open and close, you're not going to worry much about it. You'll notice as the cereals you don't like continue to change their packaging, "New Look, Same Great Taste!" But you already know about the taste, so their new look doesn't really matter to you either.

To the consumer who knows what's really inside, the box is just a box.

I was thinking about this again as I was listening to NPR yesterday. I listened to Robert Siegel give an intro to a story, and toss it to the reporter on location: "Julie McCarthy is in Islamabad." Then Julie McCarthy comes on, mixing it up with voice-overs, interviews and ambient sounds. When she's done, she says, "This is Julie McCarthy in Islamabad." Then, Robert Siegel makes a clever segue into the next story, or if they have time, they play a clip of some interesting music that may have some connection to the previous story.

This all remains pretty consistent from one day to the next, but I hardly ever think about it. Either I'm interested with the content, and I pay attention, or I'm bored by the content, and I tune out. And I'm usually interested. Consequently, I've never thought about asking NPR to change its format. However, I have watched as other programs on other stations have changed their format over and over to make up for a lack of worthwhile content.

What am I getting at? I think I've finally made some peace with the idea of having a consistent order of activities in The Core's worship gatherings. As long as it holds and represents the content well, then the format becomes invisible, much like the programs on NPR, or the box that holds your favorite cereal. It allows us to focus on what's inside, which is what we know God is paying the most attention to, anyway.




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There's a Why in Team

The Core Fellowship has a thing called The Core Team. What you might call Church members elsewhere, you'd call Team Members at The Core. And there's about seven people planning to join it this Sunday.

And yet, I'm tempted to kick everyone out of it. Myself included.

Christina and I had a long and challenging conversation last night, in which her key point was "We don't do anything... we just talk." I countered that so many of our Team Members had been gone over the summer that we really couldn't do anything. So she asked, "What do we plan to do that has to be so exclusive? Why couldn't non-team-members join us if they want to?"

And that's what did it. I suddenly felt like a sheep who'd been walking along on top of the fence, and couldn't reach the grass on either side. We never liked the idea of having "church members" because it seemed too passive, and it automatically created a group called "non-members". But I didn't like the idea of a nebulous crowd of people, either. I personally wanted some definition to the committed group, and a designation that would express that sense of commitment. So we put together a team. And those who are not Team Members are called Family Members, so there's no such thing as a non-member.

I don't regret the idea entirely. Maybe for some churches this would be a good thing. But for us I think it's been a waste of time, and a stress-inducer on me to figure out what to do with this so-called team. The fact is...

If you consider us your church home, then Welcome Home.
If you're interested in our meetings, then come.
If you want to commit, commit.
If you are compelled to give, give.
If you are called to serve, serve.
If you see a need, meet it.
If you want to lead, pray about it, then talk to us. Chances are, you can lead in some way.

I just can't see how one's status as a Team Member or Family Member should have anything to do with any of these. The last one is the closest, but if we're a family, and we're praying and talking together, why shouldn't we be able to discern what sort of leadership each other is capable of, and called into? We don't really need a team for that, either.

One thing that's certain is that we must clearly teach the distinctions that God makes. He does divide between the sheep and the goats, the lovers of God and the lovers of this world, those controlled by the Spirit and those controlled by the flesh, the followers of Christ and the followers of the enemy. This is a real distinction, both for the present and for the hereafter. It determines whether you commit for the right reasons, and give with the right motives, and serve with the right guidance, and fellowship with the right Spirit.

But it is also a growth process: a journey. And who are we to deny someone their first steps of that journey by keeping them on the outside? Let the motives and guidance and Spirit come, as they dive into the life of the Body. The closer they get, the closer they can examine the difference.

And that Body life is about to turn a corner as well, which we'll discuss at our next (and possibly our last) Team Member meeting this Sunday afternoon. Do you want to come? Then come.



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Jesus the Con-Artist

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Who is Jesus to you?"

"Oh, Jesus? Jesus is a womanizer. He's a megalomaniac and a paranoiac. He's also a brainwasher, a con-artist and a compulsive liar."

"OK... that was unexpected. How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Because I knew him. I lived with him in a compound outside Billings for three years. Along with about a hundred other people. Sadly, I was one of four people that made it out alive."

"Right... ok, then."

Here's a guy who will shake your paradigm. He rejects Jesus, and rightly so. He's rejecting a thoroughly unworthy and wicked person, and obviously not the Son of God, the historical Jesus. But as far as he knows, he has rejected Jesus, and God is probably glad that he did. Because it's not till he rejects his false Jesus, that he might have an opportunity to meet the real one. But it will take some time to disassociate, no doubt.

I wonder all the time how well I know the Jesus-followers from the rest. You might say all kinds of bad or indifferent things about Jesus, and I can't tell right away whether you're talking about my Jesus, or David Koresh. Conversely, you might say all kinds of beautiful and loving things about Jesus, without a strong clue as to his true identity. Are you talking about the Republican Jesus or the Democrat Jesus? the pacifist Jesus or the imperial Jesus? the homeless Jesus or the health-and-wealth Jesus?

We've heard it often enough by now that many people who shout "Lord, Lord" will find their cries falling on deaf ears. But this knife cuts both ways, because I believe there are also many out there with a hatred for who they think Jesus is, and a love for who he really is. It may not be common, but it's out there.

The fact is, God knows intimately who his children are, even if they never really figure it out about each other.



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The Mustard Tree

I don't like mustard. Even brown mustard is something I usually avoid, and I am most definitely not a fan of the yellow stuff.

But I got a fresh glimpse of the mustard tree this morning, and I want to share my thoughts about it.

Mark 4:30-32 has Jesus talking about the tiny mustard seed, which becomes the giant mustard tree. This is pretty familiar to most of us. But back up, if you will, to verses 26-29. This is where Jesus gives us a type of "bridge" parable, between the Parable of the Sower (v.3-20) and that of the mustard seed.

He says that the Kingdom of God is like a man who plants his seeds, and then goes to bed, wakes up, goes to bed, etc, and the seeds grow into a crop. Naturally it is assumed that he waters and tends the plants, but Jesus points out that the farmer is not "making" it grow. And doesn't really even know how it grows. He just plays his meager part, and then grabs the sickle when it's harvest time.

What would you think of a farmer who walked over to a little sprout and started yanking on it, shouting for it to grow faster? "I planted you, I watered you, and now I'm going to sculpt you into the biggest crop in the county! Now grow, damn you!" Not too bright, eh?

Now what about those church-planters or pastors or evangelists or even missionaries who have decided that they know how a church grows? They have the research and the figures and the strategies, and are prepared to train you to know exactly how to grow a tiny fellowship of believers into a vast and influential congregation, or network of congregations. They don't plant the seed, and water it, and wait patiently for it to grow... they pull it out of the ground, assuming that it's all up to them.

Jesus made it clear that we have our role to play in the Kingdom of God... we are certainly not spectators. But the growing itself is left entirely up to him. It happens by means that remain a mystery to us, so long as we're honest.

All we have to ask ourselves is, are we to be part of the Kingdom of God, or are we perhaps more interested in the Kingdom of Church?



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A Patch for Humanity

A patient will come to you at his moment of greatest dread, hand you a knife and say, "Doctor, cut me open." Why? Because he trusts you. He trusts you the way a child trusts. He trusts you to do no harm.

The sad fact is: human beings are not worthy of trust. It is human nature to lie, take shortcuts, to lose your nerve, get tired, make mistakes. No rational patient would put his trust in a human being... and were not gonna let him!

It is our mission here to rigorously and ruthlessly train the humanity out of you, and make you into something better.

We're gonna make doctors out of you.

-Dean Walcott, from the film Patch Adams

Last Sunday I spoke about our attitude toward the church. So often, when we first gain fellowship with this motley group of believers, we are desperately seeking someone to trust. We have found the central dysfunction of humanity around us, and inside us, and now we need the solution. We know our need to trust, and have tried it a few times with disastrous results: an abusive parent, an unfaithful mate, a disloyal friend, etc.

How many have made their entry into the church, imagining they have finally found an object worthy of their trust? They have discovered the sad fact that human beings are not worthy of trust, and so they have sought out a place that will train the humanity out of them... out of everyone.

"We're gonna make Christians out of you!"

How much harder to fall, then, when the realization comes that no one in the church has had the humanity trained out of them at all. Even if the teachers and leaders and mentors of the church were doing their jobs well (and usually they are not,) it just never happens. So maybe it's not supposed to happen.

Certainly, as we grow in Christ, we should expect to grow in love, in forgiveness, in discipline, etc. And we imagine that this is a departure from the faultiness of humanity. But perhaps it is just the opposite. Perhaps a successful journey into the heart of God is the process of having humanity trained into us... becoming more and more like the most human human who ever lived. How else can you explain the word humanitarian, or humane? To be fully human is to have compassion and grace.

Some of us seek to put our trust in those we deem "less human"--those who operate with a cold precision and computer-like consistency--hoping that they are the only ones who can heal our disease.

But there are also those who seek out real humans, complete with compassion and grace, capable of relationship and humor and pathos, and discover in the end that this is the remedy for the disease that kills not only the body, but the soul.

Perhaps this is the "Church" that Jesus had in mind.




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The Soma Center (part 2)

Continued from Part 1

This network would be the heartbeat behind the Soma Centers. And the Centers would be a tangible manifestation of a unified network of believers. Here are some potential details for the network, apart from what I wrote in the post I just linked to.

1a) Members - Individuals who feel a solidarity with the Network, and feel like they can both benefit from it, and serve through it. Membership with any particular church is not necessary, although intentional fellowship with other believers is strongly encouraged. The payment of minimal yearly dues would be required, except in the case of financial hardship, in which case volunteer effort may be substituted. Members would have privileged and discounted access to Soma Centers.

1b) Sponsors - A Member can choose to be a sponsor by increasing his or her commitment to contribute to the Soma Network and/or Centers through extra financial donations, or volunteer efforts. A Sponsor would have priority access to Soma Centers, in many cases free of charge. This is not special treatment for the rich (especially since volunteer effort is an option,) rather it is an incentive to encourage an extra level of commitment, which will be necessary to make the whole operation possible. Nevertheless, Sponsors will never be considered a higher class of individual, or be given any kind of public praise.

2) Member Churches - Denominational or Non-denominational churches who wish to identify with the call for unity in the body, and participate in the "body life" made possible by the Soma Network and the Soma Centers. The payment of a small percentage of the church's budget would be required, except in the case of financial hardship (in which case volunteer effort could be substituted,) or a decision not to make use of the Soma Center's facilities. A Member Church would have privileged and discounted access to Soma Centers.

2a) Sponsor Churches - You get the picture by now. Sponsoring would involve a higher level of giving and/or volunteer effort from the church itself, and priority/free use of Soma Centers.

3) The Public - Anyone desiring to use the Soma Center for a purpose that fits within the general scope and guidelines of the facility will be welcome to do so, at full price, and after full consideration is given to the needs of Members and Sponsors. Ideally, though, "full price" would still amount to a lower rate than one would encounter at the average community rental facility.

I know a lot of this sounds like just another megalomaniacal ordeal; a victim of the Edifice Complex; a mammoth project worthy of the Bible Belt. And it would be a large undertaking, without a doubt. But in the end, the purpose is not just to throw money at one more program or building fund. Ultimately it is to allow each church to do more with less, to be who God has called them to be, and avoid the pressure to meet every need and run every program.

It's ok for each church to be quirky and unique and gappy. In fact, it's perfect. But when those gaps start to become obvious to those with real unmet needs, that's where the larger body has got to be able to step in. Why should a loyal member of a house church with a unique need have to choose between defecting to the local megachurch, or seeking secular gatherings in order to find what they need? The Church needs to be there for them, and it needs Unity and Intentionality in order to do so. Those are two characteristics I imagine for the Soma Network.

With something like this in place, eventually more and more gatherings of believers would become satisfied with simplicity, with meaningful fellowship and organic worship, not having to wonder if they're missing out on the diversity and complexity of the larger body, but knowing that a vibrant, dynamic connection exists at all times to truly flesh out the body of Christ.

Here is my silly little dream sketch. Enjoy!




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The Soma Center (part 1)

"If God is with you, make your plans big." -D.L. Moody

Ever since God steered me away from the path of professional music ministry, and toward the ideals of The Core, I have been steadily losing my far-sightedness. In other words, I'm still not sure I know what I want to be when I grow up. Graphic design makes a good day job, and I enjoy it. It can even pay well if you're lucky. Pastoring The Core feels like a good fit for me, too, but I don't really know what The Core will look like in 5 or 10 years, and I don't think I'm cut out to leave it and plant more churches, and many, many other churches already in existence that I could pastor would probably want me to be something I'm not.

But today, I feel like I got a glimpse.

Even from early on in the operation of the Front Porch, I've had a "wandering eye" of sorts. I tend to leer at these big, old buildings in broken down industrial areas that are obviously longing to be gutted and remodeled. Springfield has no shortage of them. God has got to have something in mind for these monsters... but when I start the infill in mind, I run out of dreams before I run out square footage, and it just starts to seem like a project for a project's sake.

Meanwhile, in another sector of my mind, I look at all the wasted space inside church walls. Basketball courts that get used twice a week, if that, and probably less than once a week for basketball. Auditoriums that sit empty 85% of the time; Classrooms that get more attention from a housekeeper than a class; Dining areas and fellowship halls and multi-purpose rooms that just seem to be twiddling their thumbs, dying for a little action.

Don't get me wrong. In the context of our current faith culture, most of these churches are doing a fine job maintaining and using their facilities. But isn't it possible that there's a better solution? Large churches nearly always have more space than they need (even if the surplus is on weekdays) and small churches lack the amenities and ministries and facilities that draw so many to "Six Flags Over Jesus."

I am not against megachurches. However, there is a special place in my heart for those smaller bodies who truly believe in holistic fellowship, and relational discipleship, yet always struggle to gain a foothold in our society due to a lack of resources, connections, or both.

You may love the prayerful atmosphere at the House Church, but they can't remedy the constant distractions your children create.

You may love the spiritual growth at the Simple Church, but you feel isolated as the only single person over age 25.

You may love the sense of community at the Coffeehouse Church, but you can't get past the memories of support groups, mission trips, book studies, youth events, and basketball clubs at your old megachurch.

My question: Why should these two problems continue to exist? Why should resources go wasted at large churches, and go lacking at small churches?

My answer: A large, urban Church Co-Op Center. For now, let's imagine it would be called the Soma Center (Soma being the Greek word for "body".)

Before I go into any detail, let me paint a few pictures for you:

Imagine a small network of House Churches. Each one functions well on its own, but they love to get together once a month to stay on the same page, and broaden their circles of fellowship. They can reserve an auditorium at the Center for just such an occasion. Or even for other occasions, such as a wedding, baptism, funeral, or just a big party for no good reason. And if one of the House Churches in this network doesn't have a suitable home to meet in, they can take advantage of one of the Center's several cozy meeting rooms.

Imagine a small traditional church nearby, which has recently gained a few youth members, and an energetic youth leader, but has no money for a youth facility. They could reserve a space at the Center, and run a shuttle back and forth. Or maybe all they need is a basketball court once a month, or a venue to have occasional concerts. Perhaps the church doesn't need space for youth so much as for children, and a teacher can chaperone the children as they board the shuttle for the ride to and from their church building.

Imagine a small group of divorcees who all go to small or medium-sized churches without a DivorceCare ministry. This group can organize itself, and rent out a space at the Center. Perhaps one or more of their churches would even choose to help cover such a minimal expense. Or it could be a child-rearing club, or a discussion group, or a prayer gathering.

Imagine a church plant just barely off the ground, meeting in a high school. They've got their worship space, but they can't run the office out of the pastor's house anymore. They can rent one or two rooms of furnished office space at the Soma Center, much more affordably than anywhere else. And they may even decide to move their Sunday morning service to the Center's Auditorium while they're at it.

Imagine a church that's got everything they need except for storage space for some of their seasonal or cumbersome items. The Center can provide that to them, as well.

I think we've concluded as Americans that the only way to get all the "amenities" of the Christian Life is to grow churches that are large enough to pull them all off. But is there any reason that people from two (or more) different denominations can't share a building, especially when it is owned and run by an ecumenical and benevolent third party? I don't see why not.

Here is a list of a few features I envision for this Center:

• Auditorium for 200-400 people
• Chapel for 80-120 people
• Gymnasium
• Concert Venue
• Coffeehouse
• Office Space
• Classrooms / Meeting rooms
• Youth and Children's Education space
• Daycare
• Storage Space

This is not to say that the church has been necessarily been going the wrong direction... in fact, it has done many things right. But it has done these right things separately, individually, rather than corporately. And each church winds up feeling like jam spread over too much toast. Why not re-introduce the terms of first century church, when there was a "Church in Smyrna" and a "Church in Sardis" and a "Church in Corinth". Likewise there could be a Soma Center in Cleveland, and one in St. Louis, and one in Minneapolis, each representing the geographic and cultural unities that were present in the time of the first apostles.

And yet, a facility alone (or 100 facilities alone) would not amount to a very big dream. Because ultimately the vision is to unify. To repent for our divisiveness, and return to the unity Jesus called us to exhibit. And I believe a beautiful expression of such a historic turning point would be an ecumenical network (I wrote about this idea in a past post called "One-ity".) Let's call it, for our purposes here, the Soma Network.

Read part 2.



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San Francisco

OK... I know this trip was almost 2 months ago. But I really wanted to share some photos and thoughts with you about our day in San Francisco.

I'm going to let the pictures do most of the talking for a change. Here goes...

We stopped at the Golden Gate Bridge on our way to meet my parents and brother for lunch at Fisherman's Wharf. A word to the wise: always carry lots of quarters when you drive around San Francisco, because the only places to park are often metered, and only take coins. This was the case with the spot we found at the Bridge. Fortunately, there was 11 minutes left on the meter (and we had to rush anyway in order to meet my family,) so we grabbed the camera and ran up the hill to take a few snapshots. As you can see, I could use a bit more practice with my self-portrait skills.

This may be the coolest candy shop in the world. It's one of the places we stopped at Fisherman's Wharf, after lunch.

After FW, we made the short walk over to Pier 39. There were a lot of neat stores and restaurants there, although it was a little too manufactured for my tastes (think Silver Dollar City meets San Francisco Bay.)






Here's a classic San Francisco shot. That's Coit Tower at the top-right, and the famous Lombard Street running just left of center. We were driving a rented minivan (which was not part of the plan until the wedding party asked me to drive the one they rented the day before,) which isn't necessarily the type of vehicle you'd want when traveling up and down these hills. At least it was an automatic.

I knew San Francisco was hilly, but when you pull up to a stop sign before a street like this, and you pretty much have to look straight up to see where you're going... there's really no preparation for that. I just waited to make sure no other cars were in the street in front of me at the time (thank God it was Sunday,) and gunned it, Christina putting fingernail marks in my forearm the entire way up.

Caption: "I don't really need to use the toilet, but when will I ever see another one this cool?"

This is on the grounds of Coit Tower, pictured in the previous photo. Neat place, but once your car is in the hour-long line to get to the tiny parking lot at the top of this hill, you're going to Coit Tower whether you like it or not. I liked it.





While looking down at the city from Coit Tower, we saw this cathedral, called Saints Peter and Paul Church. Must have been a merger at some point. But we were absolutely stunned by the elegance of this building, and on top of that, we found a (free!) parking space just off the park square in front of it, so we stopped and headed in to see if they give tours.

To our surprise, we walked in and were greeted and handed a song sheet. OK... this is not a tour. This is mass. We were now unwitting attendees to Saints Peter and Paul's 5 pm Sunday Mass. So we sat down to take in the experience.

As you can see, the interior is just as striking as the exterior. It was easy to ignore everything going on and just stare at the walls. And it was a little funny that, despite the glory of our surroundings, the music and the mass in general were pretty anticlimactic. Acoustic guitar instead of organ, priest with a small, throaty voice instead of a soaring or booming one, and only a smattering of parishioners.

Nevertheless, I gleaned something from my moments under this vaulted ceiling: God was big. Everything in this space pointed upward toward his exalted nature, his omnipotent wonder, his eternal existence. God is tremendously big and we are painfully small.

And yet, the genius of an edifice such as this, is that there's more to the story. It's not just that we are sitting beneath a soul-crushing mega-force. Rather, the architecture lifts us up, it raises our souls to mingle with the divine among the stained glass and mosaics and telltale marble inlays. Although we are seated in pews some 90 feet below the ceiling, that distance gives our hearts room to reckon with a God who has lowered himself to be reckoned by us. The Creator of all, who deserves the bend of every knee, has bowed within our reach. And there's something about this space that reminds me once again of the dumbfounding reality of incarnation.

I began to wonder if I, and most of the people I knew, were missing something important in our worship experiences. Even the loudest and most fervent song services can't convey God's power in this way. And certainly not our humble little community venue, with our sorry chandelier, our little prayer groups, and stumblingly conversational sermons.

But maybe that really is part of the wonder. Not every gathering of believers must convey every facet of the body. In other words, maybe we need to get out more; that every time we meet a new group of Christ-followers, we discover a new facet of the face of God. And never, ever should we doubt that God has made us peculiar for a reason; to be ourselves, and not envy the unique divinities that he has impressed upon those who gather elsewhere.

When the service was over, Christina and I got up to look around some more, and came upon the candle room (although I'm sure there's a better name for it.) At the time we were worried about our Dwarf Rabbit, Steamer, whom we'd owned for 6 years, and had to put through surgery recently. We weren't sure if he would recover, so we lit a candle and prayed for his healing. Whether or not the candle made any difference, you'll be glad to know that Steamer recovered beautifully, and is chomping away at his kibble as I write these words.

As we left the church, we walked up the street, past dozens of colorful restaurants, bars, coffee shops, boutiques and the like. We found one that looked worthwhile, and stopped in for a cappuccino. We drank it as we sat out on the sidewalk, listening to an impromptu accordion performance.

That was our day in San Francisco. I'd say it was a good one.




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Plug It In (2x)

Last night Christina, John, Sondra and I had a meeting with two leaders of the MidAmerica District of the Christian & Missionary Alliance, Rodger and Tom. In case you're not aware, The Core is considering affiliating with the Alliance, for purposes of assistance, accountability, and collaboration.

We had a fantastic conversation, largely because these two guys have been through all the motions of church planting, evangelism, etc, and have come to many of the same conclusions we have. Namely, that it is more about disciple-making than decision-making, it's more about building community than building numbers, and the key to being "missional" is being incarnate... simulateously striving to really know God, and really know the people around you, and the only way to do that is to surrender yourself to the heart of God, and invest yourself in the hearts of people.

On a more practical level, Rodger and Tom couldn't have been more thrilled about what's already been done at the Front Porch, and we couldn't be more thrilled about the vision they've laid out for new church planting in their district. More impressive than the fact that they want to proliferate community venues much like the FroPo, is the fact that they don't want to rely on formulas at all... they want the vision to be based on an intimate knowledge of the surrounding community and culture, and of course, obedience to God's unique direction for each new church.

One thing that stuck out in my mind was the theme of incarnation, which recurred consistently in our conversation. I commented that so many churches spend so much breath trying to convince people to "plug in" to the groups or systems or programs or activities they've already got in place. This is not wrong. But it's not really the heart of mission, of incarnation.

Brian McLaren once wrote that many of us would be better Christians if we spent less time at church, not more. Although this sentence by itself is a little too vague, I believe his point is spot-on. Because the context of this quote explains how often we Christians soak up the life of the church, and waste ourselves on it. We've got nothing left for the world, and we become more comparable to cloistered monks than roving apostles.

Maybe the church is not the power strip, that we all need to "plug into". Maybe the church is the plug, we as the church are many plugs, in search of outlets to connect with.

I am often guilty of over-extending a metaphor, and I see that I've done it again. Because my illustration here would require that the power flow backwards, from the plug into the outlet. But Jesus seems to have done everything backwards, so I'm gonna go with it.

Because isn't this more like what Jesus did, anyway? He didn't tell us to MapQuest heaven and call him if we get lost. He came. He plugged into us, and threw the power in reverse.

Sources tell me that a weekend is coming up. Be like Jesus. Go incarnate with people.

In other words, plug out.



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In Defense of the Edifice Complex

One of the cleverest phrases to come out of the emerging church is right there in the title to this post: Edifice Complex.

In case you’re not sure why this is clever, I’ll explain. An “Oedipus Complex” (pronounced Ed-i-pus) is a romantic love or desire for one’s own parent.

To be fair, it was not the emerging church community who coined this term. It’s been used more widely in regard to politics and business than religion.

More Buildings. Bigger Buildings.

No matter what arena (no pun intended) of life it refers to, an Edifice Complex implies a fixation on the need for more buildings, or bigger buildings, or nicer buildings, to accomplish one’s purposes. Often this obsession relates to visibility: the more impressed people are with the number and/or size of your buildings, the more favorable will their opinion be of you and your operation.

So it’s easy to see why the emerging church would level this accusation at the institutional church. The phenomenon of the 90s was Megachurch; swelling and bloating as the influx of attendants reaches into the thousands and even tens-of-thousands.

The phenomenon of the 21st century has taken us in a different direction… Multi-site churches. Rather than build larger and larger buildings, as these churches grow they establish more and more campuses. Usually this involves a whole separate staff for each site, with the exception of the grand exalted senior pastor, who is “beamed” in each Sunday by closed-circuit television, or failing that, by tape.

Forgive me for sounding cynical. I will state outright that many Megachurches, and many Multi-site churches are populated and run by wonderful people, and are doing huge amounts of good in their respective communities. But if there were examples to point to of the Edifice Complex, look no futher. More buildings… Bigger buildings.

Just in case you’re in danger of some type of clarity, I’m now going to flip this whole thing upside-down. Because in our rebellion against the Edifice Complex, many of us have become suspicious of church buildings altogether. Some have come to believe that the church should not own property or equipment, or have a maintenance or housekeeping staff. Because the church is simply people, and people can meet anywhere! Especially when we are keeping things small and intimate.

And I would agree to that last sentiment. We can meet anywhere. Even in larger groups we have far more choices than many Christians seem to realize. But there is an important aspect of humanity that is getting left out of the equation here, and that is:

A Sense of Place

It is ironic that, even as our society’s Edifice Complex has raged out of control, we have been losing our sense of place. On the other hand, it may not be ironic at all. The more buildings we build, and the more quickly we build them, the less of ourselves we invest in the quality of those spaces, and the less relevance they will have in our lives.

I have few complaints about my workplace. It may not be fancy or well-appointed on the inside, but it is a 100-year old building in a historic district, and I like that. But when I go to my friend Raeganne to get my hair cut, I go to a brand-new building that looks 100 years old, and sometimes I wish I could work there instead. You could show up an hour early and sit down to wait without ever picking up a magazine, and yet you’d be entertained. I wish I was sitting there as I write this, so I could describe the décor in detail. But this salon, called Mojo Pie, is one of the wackiest places you’ll ever experience. It’s as if a pirate and a hippie got married and took up interior design together. When you’re there, you feel like you’re someplace.

Even as our sense of space has increased (especially in Texas) our sense of place has flown out the window. Our memories are wrapped up indelibly in the places they occur. The aesthetics of our daily commutes guide our thoughts, and the layout of our homes determine our movements. Each place has a feel, a personality, and a spirit of its own.

It is obvious that God understands this. He tied every story, and even the vast majority of spiritual concepts, to physical places: Jerusalem, Egypt, Athens, the Temple, the Tabernacle, the Stone of Help, the Jordan River, the Garden of Eden, the Camp, the Altar, the Desert. Our story is wrapped up in specific years, in proper names, and in real locales… it is a story with flesh on its bones. Even “The Word” is more a Person than it is a concept.

So for a church to have a sense of space is only natural. To want to own that space is not necessarily wrong. But to entertain that sense of space without a sense of place is a big mistake, and a failure to understand the human spirit. We need to think about how life really happens, and mold our spaces into places that will put flesh on the bones of our own stories, as they unfold from day to day.

If we’re going to have edifices, then so be it. But let’s not build them and decorate them so hastily and thoughtlessly. Let’s invest ourselves in them, to become the stuff of relationship, of emotion, of growth, of challenge, of memory, of welcome, and of the body-life that God intended us to live.



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Don't Call Me That

If you look at our website, brochure, business cards, etc, you will see that word behind my name.

Pastor.

Despite all the title-wrangling that's gone on with the emerging church movement, I think one title that has stayed fairly well intact is the word Pastor.

Assuming we even knew what it meant to begin with.

But a pastor is a shepherd, right? In Latin it's the same word. A pastor works in the pasture, shepherding sheep. Of course Jesus is the great high shepherd, or head shepherd, thus the Head Pastor. (Oops. We've been calling certain people "Head Pastor", haven't we?) But Paul and other apostles make it clear that God has designated some to lead in this shepherding kind of way, and we do so under the leadership of the Head Shepherd.

Yesterday I caught a clip of Hank Hanegraaff on the Bible Answer Man radio show, where he was talking about the importance of "protecting the pulpit." Maybe that's why pastors grip it so hard when their preaching gets emphatic... they're protecting it. I actually got images of bullet-proof mylar and security guards on either side, lest anyone should take a shot at the holy lectern. Would you take a bullet for the pulpit?

I'm not saying good ole' Hank is all wet. If you have been entrusted with the role to disseminate God's truth to the community of believers, people will tend to trust whom you trust as well. And that is implied when the pastor invites someone else to speak at the pulpit.

So in essence it's an issue of stewardship. But the problem is, there's something about that "protecting the pulpit" attitude that threatens to swing toward arrogance and vainglory. As if we all as believers are called to be miniature Christs, but pastors are the XL minis. And as in any case of security (think national security, especially if you're a Democrat,) it is easy to secure something so well that you strangle it. (Your neck is in danger, sir! Here, let me protect it snugly with my two hands! Tighter now...)

The truth is that there are many types of pastors. God knows every community of believers is different, and needs a different brand of leader. Some really do need a solid theological expert who can humbly but boldly lift the group to the next level of understanding. But to presume that this is the primary type, or worse, the only type, is foolish.

How do I know? For one, because God called me to do it. Yes, I know a few things, and I like to teach. But I am seriously unqualified to be the ordained protector of the sacred podium.

It is false images like that that spring to mind when people call me "Pastor".

Mark Driscoll, in his autobiographical book Confessions of a Reformission Rev, writes about an experience early on in his church-planting ministry, when a young man calls him in the middle of the night, distraught about his inability to give up masturbating. After Driscoll gives him some very crude, direct, and groggy advice, the young man says, "Alright. Thanks, Pastor Mark." Driscoll recalls this as the first time he was ever called Pastor, and it made an impact on him.

I get called Pastor sometimes, but I usually ask people not to. It may be the title on my card, but you don't hear people getting called "Sales Representative Tim", or "C.E.O. Warren".

I think God has called me to be the type of pastor that holds the pulpit loosely, that stands up for what God has given me, but also empowers the gifts of others. I think there's a lot of community to be had in the process of opening things up, and gently enabling the harmony of voices that God intended when he gave us such a beautiful array of gifts. And this is not necessarily the first thing people think of when they call me Pastor.

Just "Ryan" will be fine, thanks.

Fake China :: Fake Church

I have a friend who is about to travel to Beijing for the 2008 Olympics. One of her friends has a brother who is swimming for Tunisia, so she decided to come along for the ride.

Last night she was over at our house, telling us about some of the interesting steps the Chinese government is taking to make their capital city a world-class experience for these two weeks in August:

1) They are shutting down numerous factories for a period of time, with the hopes of drastically improving air quality. Imagine the let-down for those Beijing residents who discover what it's like to take a deep breath for two weeks, before going back to "normal".

2) They are banning cars from the road. For a three-month period, cars are restricted on alternate days, depending on their license plate numbers. My friend said they were banning cars completely during the Olympics, which may be true, but I haven't found support for that yet on the web.

3) She also said they'll be banning the internet, which is certainly something they'd like to do, but I can't prove that they've decided to do so, against the insistence the IOC.

In addition to those things, the Chinese government has prompted (to put it gently) its citizens to do many other things, such as: changing the names of its restaurant dishes (and remove dog meat from the menu), quit asking personal questions that might offend westerners, stop smoking, stop using fireworks, and the list goes on and on.

With all these expensive initiatives, it is not likely that China will make money on the Olympics. Chances are that they don't care... they see this simply as an extremely expensive public relations project, which will garner them First World status.

After mentioning all these bans, my friend lamented that she would just rather experience Chinese culture for what it really is. Of course the breathing will be nice, but she is sad for the lack of one very important thing: Authenticity.

We may laugh at the Chinese government's paranoid attempts at keeping, or saving, face. But there is something very human about it. In a bad way, that is.

The Church is a prime suspect of the same offense. The Church is polluted, it's noisy and messy. It has a beautiful culture, but is not without it's crazy jargon and undesirable characters. It's natural that we should want to mask all that ugliness. Otherwise, who would ever come?

But people can surprise you. Authenticity is a powerful thing, and people will put up with a lot to be in the presence of real honesty and transparency. It's scary to put yourself out there, and a lot of people really will turn away in disgust. But those are not the people you need around anyway.

And before you accuse the Church too sharply, do some navel-gazing of your own. What are you trying to hide? Put up your facade if you must; disbelieve it if you like, but most people would rather know the Real You.

The Church Is a Whore, and She Is My Mother

Augustine said it.

Every generation is prone to certain superlative assumptions about itself. We are always...

the most enlightened, most advanced, most creative, most civilized...

AND/OR

the most wicked, most degenerate, dumbest, laziest, voted-most-likely-to-usher-in-the-end-of-the-world generation in history.

So naturally it surprises us when we look back and see the same attitude in history. Is it possible that a 5th-century Bishop, prior even to the Dark Ages, could be as jaded against the church as our own breed of postmodern critics?

But yes, Augustine said it. "The Church is a whore, and she is my mother."

Last night at the Front Porch, I slipped into one of those conversations. Somebody mentioned the alleged $50,000 that a particular church happened to have spent on speakers for the youth center. Not a speaker system... not human speakers, just speaker cabinets. And one of our more idealogical Wednesday night regulars became, shall we say, livid.

"How... hm... HOW MANY LIVES DO YOU THINK COULD BE SAVED BY $50,000!?!"

Whether the statistic was correct or not was beside the point. The fact is that we Christians are famous for finding ways to collect large amounts of money, and spend it on something that many others deem utterly irrelevant.

I wonder what the underground Christians in China or Indonesia or the Sudan might think. These churches seem to be growing spiritually and numerically, under far-less-than-ideal conditions. Of course, it would not be original of me to point out the way Christianity tends to thrive under oppression.

Last night my wife and I were wondering out loud if American Christianity was headed in that direction. "Sometimes, in a very weird way," I said, "I actually long for that."

"You do???" She exclaimed.

"Well... sort of. I mean, it's a hard thing to say. But it's as if someone is out to destroy us either way. If we're being oppressed, others are destroying us physically. If we're being validated by society at large, we inevitably start destroying ourselves spiritually. Only, in the first instance we are drawing closer to God in our adversity, and in the latter, we're wandering away from him."

"I never thought of it that way," She said. "I think that's true."

In my other conversation, with the Front Porch idealogue, I seconded many of his concerns about the way we Christians use and abuse the gifts of God. But I also tried to convince him to give even the most suspect church the benefit of the doubt. The fact is, we don't always (and actually we hardly ever) fully understand the underlying motives, and the heart behind the decisions that are being made in other churches.

"I actually know people in that church who really have an earnest heart after God," I said.

"But do you know someone in leadership?" the idealogue demanded.

"As a matter of fact, I do." He gasped. You might think he was being over-dramatic. I might think you'd be right.

"Or was, anyway," I continued. "He was in leadership. If you're right about this church, and that it needs change so badly, I believe he would have been one of the people there longing to bring it about. But he's not there anymore. Maybe he gave up. I haven't talked to him about it."

"Well... yes... maybe," he stammered.

There is so much to hate about what they've become. What we've become. Reminiscent of Rahab, or Gomer, or Israel at large, we have been unfaithful. We've forgotten our first love, and chased after everything else that moves, looking for what we've already found, but lost. The Church has become, by definition, a whore. With a long and proud tradition of corruption and, well... pride.

But she is ours. She is us. She is the true body of Christ that stands by his power and grace despite so many stumblings.

She is our mother.

The Count

It's not about the numbers. It never has been.

Of course, if you follow this blog at all, you know that already. But saying it is a whole lot easier than meaning it.

I made a commitment last year to never count people unless there was an important practical reason. Estimations are less dangerous, but still suspect.

But it turns out that so much of the survival of The Core has come to hinge on that dreadful phrase: "Sunday Morning Attendance." The more people come, the more viable and successful it will seem to those who are there. This was proven to me over the past two weeks.

Last Sunday we had our first Second Sunday Artist Spotlight, and we featured artist Jon Stanton. Prior to that our highest attendance had been roughly 25. But this time it was closer to 40 (although, in keeping with our philosophy, nobody actually counted.)

I thought to myself, "OK... that was fun. Very encouraging. Some friends and family of the artist showed up to boost the showing a bit. Now let's see what happens next week." And what happened (this morning) was... the same thing. Without the boost.

They say success begets success. That when people see something work, or they see it well attended, that their perception of it improves automatically. I've experienced this firsthand. One young lady came several months ago on a Sunday morning, and seemed to really appreciate what she experienced, although there were not many more than a dozen in attendance. She came again last Sunday, and expressed her surprise at the number of people. "I really liked it the first time I came," she said, "but I was a little worried because there were, like, only eight people there or so." But when she came the second time and saw the place mostly full, it made a different impression entirely. I guess it's mob psychology in a way... "If this many people like it, it must be good."

So now I feel like it's a whole new ballgame. It definitely feels different with 3 or 4 dozen than with only 1 dozen. We need more brunch food. The sound system becomes more important. Some people are forced to sit towards the front. Plus there's just an energy to it that doesn't exist otherwise.

Believe me... I'm as much a fan of smallness as I ever was. But when it became apparent that The Core was going to have to survive (financially) primarily by its own devices, I started to realize how important it would be to build a self-sustaining fellowship, and that that body would have to be a certain size to be viable.

From where I sit, it looks like that's exactly what God is doing, although you never can tell for sure. Each week belongs to him... it's his call whether we're supposed to have 9 or 90 next week.

Although if you want to know my preference... I hope it's somewhere in between.

Deuce: Leadership vs. Community

There is a post-modern tension in the church when people look at community on the one hand and leadership on the other. It's like watching people watch a tennis match. They look back and forth, and begin to be troubled by the seeming necessity to pick one and abandon the other.

Community is fluid. It is mutual submission and love. It is not controlling or power hungry. It is spontaneous and organic and beautiful.

Leadership is structured. It is wisdom and responsibility. It is not fearful or timid. It is intentional and heirarchical and beautiful.

Quite a quandary, indeed... so long as we're trying to line up organic community with hierarchical leadership onto the same plane--that of relationships.

But Community and Leadership do not belong on the same plane. Community is indeed a function of relationships. God has called us all to submit to one another in love. Husbands to wives, wives to husbands, pastors to parishioners and parishioners to pastors. They will know we are Christians by our love for one another. And this commandment of love does not shift and change with positions, promotions and power. It is an interconnected web of equality.

So what about Leadership? The fact is that leadership does not belong on the plane of Relationships, it belongs on the plane of Objectives. Tasks. Roles.

Becoming a leader should not change the nature of your relationship to others. It should change the nature of your relationship to the task at hand. Naturally, that will affect the context of your relationships to others, but not the nature of them, which is love and mutual submission.

There is no leadership position which mandates, or permits, controlling others. And there is certainly no rationale for abuse or power-mongering.

I can sense some of your misgivings, and I'll address them here:

Guidance - Since Jesus is the true shepherd, and we are his sheep, we are called to follow him alone. Paul says that no one should identify themselves as followers of this person or that person... only Christ. So be a guide to others is, once again, a responsibility to represent the guidance of Christ, and not to be controllers of others.

Discipline - Similar to guidance. When someone in a church requires discipline, the leader's responsibility is on the plane of infraction and correction. When the leader and the wayward member can come together on that plane to each exercise their own roles (the leader to administer discipline, and the member to receive it graciously) then they have behaved as equals in Christ.

Can you see how this frees us up to accept our God-given roles without becoming arrogant, or resentful, toward one another? We can rejoice in the fluidity of community and the structure of leadership without constantly being pulled back and forth.

Now the trick is... doing it.

One-ity

I have been fantasizing lately about founding a network of churches for one simple reason: the unity that Jesus prayed for in John 17:21-26. I'm going to do a little dreaming out loud here about what such a network might look like.

First of all, I can't imagine moving on this for at least a year. I've got to get my own two feet underneath me first, as pastor of The Core. Nevertheless, I can't get this off my mind, so I'm going to throw out a few ideas, and let you respond to them, either positively or negatively.

"One In Christ" Network (needs a better name)

1. It will not be a denomination, as evidenced by the following:
a. Other memberships will be permitted, and not monitored whatsoever
b. It will not attempt to be set apart from other groups by a unique doctrine, except to be known for its commitment to the unity of those who follow Christ, and subscribe to basic, historic, orthodox Christian beliefs.
c. It will seek to connect and "network" Christians and churches together, rather than divide or control them.

2. Member churches will agree to the following beliefs:
a. The 66 books of the Bible are completely true and reliable, designed to govern us, and not be governed by us.
b. God is all-powerful, sovereign, and triune, in the form of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit
c. Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life, and our only means of reconciliation to God by his death on the cross and resurrection from the dead.
d. Although we cannot earn our own salvation through works, we are called to a life of righteousness and a heart of obedience, as prescribed in Scripture.
e. God himself is the owner of all truth, and calls us to develop our theologies with the utmost humility, always listening respectfully to the perspectives of others, and never belittling our ridiculing our brothers and sisters.

3. Member churches will be characterized by the following values:
a. a recognition that all Christians are indeed ONE as we are found IN CHRIST.
b. a commitment to actively love and pray for others, regardless of their beliefs.
c. a latitude in regards to secondary doctrines, realizing that the most important concepts of Scripture are marked by clarity, and secondary concepts are often marked by ambiguity, leaving room for honest, intelligent Christ-followers to disagree.
d. a desire to seek out partnerships and collaborative opportunities with those from differing Christian traditions
e. a rejection of all divisive actions and attitudes (with an understanding of the difference between divisiveness and mere division.)

4. The Network will be characterized by the following initiatives:
a. conferences, workshops and gatherings to promote unity and inter-denominational reconciliation.
b. support for new churches who wish to minister missionally and non-denominationally.
c. mediation in specific circumstances of denominational antagonism.
d. ecumenical projects to care for the poor and needy.
e. general work to represent Christianity to the world as a body unified in Christ.

That's all I can think of for now... what do you think? Is this something Christianity needs? And is it feasible?

Fortress Maximus and the Marching Band

Last night's QAF Session was my favorite so far.

There was me, Steve, Tim, Latisha, Lindsey, Jarred, TJ, Tabitha, Jason, Snow, and Mik. And everybody contributed in some fashion.

Towards the end, I wanted to talk about my passion for following Jesus, and how it's not something that can be done in solitude. That's when an unusual metaphor entered my mind.

I don't know if you're too young, or too old, to have ever played with Transformers, but I loved them as a kid. The action figures were essentially robots that, if you cranked their torsos, or flipped their heads, etc, etc, they would become cars or planes or dinosaurs. The ultimate Transformer was a massive guy that was constructed by assembling six different Transformers together: one for each leg, one for each arm, and one for the head and one for the torso. First you had to own all six toys, and even then it took some work to get them all put together just right. And once you did, you had... FORTRESS MAXIMUS.

You could definitely have fun with each of the six individual Transformers. They were great toys. But you couldn't play with one for long without wanting to put it together with the other five and create the Ultimate Toy that was freakin' two-and-a-half feet tall.

I am not a kid asking for more toys for Christmas just so I can have more toys. I am the leg of Fortress Maximus, and I'm just trying to collect them all, to be part of the finished product.

Fast-forwarding a bit, to my high school years, imagine me in a green-and-gold marching band uniform. (As long as we're imagining, let's say that it made me look dashing and sophisticated.) I played the saxophone, which is a great instrument. You can stand out on the sidewalk and play whatever, and people will throw money in your case. I did it for the Salvation Army once (though there was a kettle instead of a case) and I played Christmas songs in front of the Front Porch long before it opened, last December.

Playing the saxophone by yourself is fun. But a part of you always wants to put it together with something else.... with piano and drums to make a jazz combo, or three other saxophones to make a sax quartet. Or... 250 instruments of all kinds to make a Marching Band.

My high school marching band was just that big, too. HUGE. Sometimes we would take half an hour to enter a stadium for a marching band competition in a single file line, just to intimidate the other bands by our sheer size. (Wow... was that really as dorky as it sounds to me now?)

But size wasn't really the point. The point is to get together some people who know how to play the saxophone, with some who can play the trumpet, the trombone, the tuba, the flute, the clarinet, the fluegelhorn, the snare, the bass drum, the quads, the cymbals, the marimba... and some people who can toss the flags and dance the drills, and you've got something there. Then all you've got to do is learn to march and put together a show that spells out the name of your school, or something.

I'm not a recruiter standing on the sidewalk, talking people into playing and marching so we can have the biggest band in the state. I am a saxophonist who wants the whole set... someone to play every part, and stand in the right spots so we can make our formations.

I'm not an evangelist... a promoter of Christianity. I don't just want a large church, and certainly not a big name for myself. I'm just a Christ-follower with a certain set of gifts, trying to complete the beautiful, diverse picture that God has given me of the Body of Christ. Don't become a Christian just to be on the winning team. Join us because we need your help. God has given you a gift that we don't have yet, and maybe that's why we're struggling... maybe that's why we seem to be lacking something important. Because you're holding out on us.

The secular world talks a lot about diversity, but when we're at our best, they ain't got nothin' on the Body of Christ.

Some Thoughts on Merge

I'm gonna tack on another post about Merge to share with everybody some of my thoughts about it so far, and thoughts from a few others who have come multiple times. Two days ago was our fourth Sunday to do Merge in the morning. Turns out my neighbor Andrew is a great jazz guitarist, and he paired up with me to lead the music. He also plans to do it next week. After the Thankgiving holiday, I plan to add some hand percussion, and hopefully some female vocals.

The discussion was about the 10 plagues in Egypt, and how Jesus shows up in the baking of unleavened bread, and the slaughtering of the spotless lamb to save the Hebrews from the Angel of Death. And we had a comfortably large group, not the biggest so far, but probably a tie if you don't count out-of-towners or one-time visitors from other churches.

My thoughts about counting:

I'm finding it harder to stick to my commitment to not count people. I've done well not to count them during the gathering, but afterwards I tend to rehearse my memory of all those who came, and count them up then. In a way, that's not so bad, because it forces me to try to remember each individual who came, and remember their names if I can. As long as I can do it that way, I don't see a problem with counting. But if it gets too large for me to do that anymore, I think we should just guesstimate. I don't want us to do any actual counting, or to entertain questions like "So what are you runnin' these days?" My desire is to share our estimates with those who would honestly like to understand the atmosphere of our gatherings, and what they're like, but not to share them with those who want to gauge our "success" by numbers.

My thoughts about the name "Merge"

I'm thinking very strongly about getting rid of it. As it is, people know they're coming to the "Front Porch" and many of them also know they're coming to "Merge". But I think very few people have any idea what "The Core" is. I believe we're causing confusion. Chances are, within a few weeks, we'll just start calling our Sunday morning thing "The Core Worship Gathering" to simplify things for everyone. Maybe "Merge" will "re-emerge" at a later time, who knows.

Now I want to share some other people's thoughts. Jessica is one of my favorites, because she has come all four times since we began it, and next week will be watching the kids. She's a student at Missouri State. Nate is awesome as well... I met him at the Drury University Student Fair, and he's hung around pretty consistently. We've also jammed on guitars, and I'm determined to get him in on the music part of our worship gatherings soon.

From Jessica:

Yeah, I definitely love Merge. It has been cool to be there from the beginning of the Sunday morning gatherings. I really feel like it is genuine community, and I am all about that. I think the atmosphere is really great, and the people that I invite always really like it.

My friend that I had with me this week was Larry. He was one of my first friends when I came to college. He is a really great guy. He plans on going to seminary after he graduates and serving as a missionary in Japan. He is so passionate about Japanese culture.

But, yeah, I really like Merge. I think it is really inviting for everyone...believers, non-believers, people who aren't sure what they are. I am learning a lot from the discussions. I love the series that we are doing right now. Isn't it great to...you know...actually talk about JESUS, not Paul or Moses or Jessica. I just like it a lot. I also really like the fact that different musicians come in every week to help. I think it is great to see different people, and it may help from some people getting burnt out by doing it every week.

Ryan's response: I agree that it's great to talk about Jesus. But at the same time, I like to talk about Jesus in relation to everything else. I like to talk about Jesus AND Paul, about Jesus AND Moses, or about Jesus AND Jessica, if you know what I mean. As far as the music goes, I do hope it stabilizes at least somewhat. But the variety is definitely good, and I hope we always have some of that.

From Nate:

I really like it. It seems to be a lot more personal than other places that I've gone to. I also like how open ended it is: the different "modes" of seating and involvement, the fact that we can add our own comments, and just the atmosphere itself create a truly personal and worshipful experience. One thing that I've been thinking about are the discussions. I know we're covering the foundations and history of Jesus, but that's not really what is important. And, when one focus of such a worship gathering is to draw non-Christians to a deep and meaningful relationship with Christ, and when just the Old Testament and such are presented to them, all they would see was a history lesson and not the salvation that was established later. I know you talk about Jesus in them, but not really specifically about what he did. Not to say that these messages are not uplifting and purposeful, but they tend to seem more like a bible study and not like a outreach tool. I don't know, just sending some thoughts.

Ryan's response: Thanks also for the critique about the discussions. The Old Testament is a tough nut to crack, and I want to help people a little bit by showing them how Jesus shows up in it. But I definitely won't claim that I'm knocking it out of the park. We'll just be in the OT for one more week, and then we'll be in the gospels for three or four months.

In the Land of Broken Words

A few months ago, I wrote a song called "In the land of broken toys", reminiscent of the rejects portrayed in the claymation film "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer".

A land of broken toys is a very plausible fiction for anyone who knows more than a few children personally. Children break toys. It's a fact. Maybe it's because they get so excited whenever they have a new one that they can't control their energy. Maybe it's because they lack the necessary motor skills and sense of caution and consequence. Maybe it's just because they're, well... immature.

I believe that same immaturity lurks in the halls of the Big House of Evangelism, creating a Land of Broken Words. Because I know I'm not the only one who's noticed the velocity with which words are coined and discarded in an evangelical sub-culture obsessed with progress and results.

Perhaps some of these broken words are, in fact, better off broken. But others are perfectly suited to their purposes, and get broken because of carelessness... too much use, too loudly, with too little love.

I myself have been criticized for replacing "Christian" with "Christ-follower" among other things. Sometimes I make the swap with a hint of sadness... in the above case knowing that the former word implies the state of being "in Christ", unlike the latter. But I received the word already badly beaten, nearly beyond repair. Hopefully it will make a strong comeback one day, but I've always been more of an inventor than a mechanic.

And there is literally no end to the types of words that have fallen victim to this fate. But I'm going to focus here on the words that refer to people who have not surrendered their lives to Jesus, for the purpose of entering into an ongoing relationship to him. I'll be diggin up a pretty wide array, so here we go:

"HEATHEN"

Scripture Context: I Thessalonians 4:5 - a dirty sinner with animal instincts
Modern Connotation: pure insult - "Us vs. Them"
Status: Dead or Antiquated

"LOST"

Scripture Context: Luke 15:6 - Jesus seeking out his lost sheep (who are apparently clueless)
Modern Connotation: Parental concern that borders on pity - belittling & patronizing
Status: Musty but still Common

"UNSAVED"

Scripture Context: All throughout NT - Those not (yet) rescued from danger/damnation
Modern Connotation: Negative, "Haves vs. Have-Nots"
Status: Common

"PRE-CHRISTIAN"

Scripture Context: Possibly 2 Peter 3:9, though we have no reason to believe that every Non-Christian is a "Pre-Christian".
Modern Connotation: Snarky, Presumptuous
Status: Contemporary, but Limited

"UNCHURCHED"

Scripture Context: Not sure if there is any (further explanation below)
Modern Connotation: Unrefined, Unpropagandized (further explanation below)
Status: Common and Gaining

There are a lot more I could hit, but this last one, "unchurched" is what I want to focus on. And as I do, keep in mind that I am mostly speaking on behalf of a post-modern generation, and not attempting serious journalism, so my perspective will be limited, yet I think crucial as well.

Post-modern culture tends to view the Church, and Christianity much the way it views any other large institution. Chock-full of self-serving agendas and schemes to brainwash entire generations into unquestioning submission. In post-modern eyes, a large corporation has achieved its goal when every last individual is walking around as if in a trance reminiscent of Dustin Hoffman's character from Rain Man: "Gotta go to K-Mart. Gotta go to K-Mart."

It has also not escaped their notice they way Missions has been conducted over the last several centuries... where it is just as important to westernize a populace as to evangelize it. They (we?) are convinced, and perhaps with good reason, that the Church is out to destroy all cultures but its own... that a modern Missions Director takes more queues from Alexander the Great than from Paul the Apostle.

Thus, to become "churched" is to become forcibly assimilated, to lose touch with one's own willpower and surrender to the Borg, since resistance is, indeed, futile. It is to fall victim to pervasive propaganda and slick marketing... to sell out.

Many Christians already hold this view toward mega-churches. The larger the church, the more resources available for marketing, and the more people will be accused of selling out when they finally break down and join "Six Flags over Jesus". This is not to be critical... but we close our eyes to the prevailing attitudes. And those belonging to small or medium churches should understand that the way they feel about the Great Conglomeration Congregation out on the highway is the way many people feel about the Church as a whole.

And we have to be aware of that when we use words like "Unchurched". We can't be surprised when people see it as adversarial... like the trash talk on the court that soundly predicts the fate of one's opponent.

But it's not just the talk. I believe that in many cases the mentality is consistent with the connotation. Evangelism-minded Christians often believe that they are in possession of a culture that should be spread like hellenism to the entire known world. So if this what the world hears us saying, perhaps it is not disingenuous at all. Perhaps we truly are communicating accurately with such a word.

And that's even worse. It's no real trouble to deport another sorry ex-patriot to the Land of Broken Words. To turn an attitude around is another thing entirely.

So ask yourself: "Am I more concerned about a population that is unchurched, or one that is unloved?" Did Jesus call me to go about "churching" people, or loving them? Because when you love a person like Jesus does, you're going to tell them the truth, even if it's hard. You're just far less likely to communicate it with a fake million-dollar bill.

One more thing: in addition to being concerned about those who are unloved, we need to take note of the undiscipled. For if there are two Jesus mandates that cannot be disputed, they are: to love people, and to disciple them. And often, the quest for the undiscipled can be conducted within the walls of the church, because sadly, it's like shooting fish in a bucket to find those still subsisting on the milk of the Word, having never cut their teeth on its meat.

I will wrap this up by recognizing that I am still hung up on these negative words that many people have tried to get away from. The fact is that the terms "unloved" and "undiscipled", however big an improvement they may be, are still not fit for public consumption. Believe me... I have tried and tried to find words that are.

But there are so many great words from the past that have been discarded due merely to becoming misused or worn out. Is it time to take a trip to the junkyard for some salvage work? Maybe it is.

So who's got a crowbar?

The Inclusive Jesus

In the process of reading through the gospels once again, this morning I came across what I believe to be one of the most intriguing scenes in the entire Bible:

"On reaching Jerusalem, Jesus entered the temple area and began driving out those who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves, and would not allow anyone to carry merchandise through the temple courts. And as he taught them, he said, 'Is it not written: 'My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations'? But you have made it 'a den of robbers.'' The chief priests and the teachers of the law heard this and began looking for a way to kill him, for they feared him, because the whole crowd was amazed at his teaching." -Mark 11:15-18

Now this is a man's memory verse, and I've mentioned it several times before in that capacity. Although John is less descriptive of this controversial act than Matthew, Mark and Luke, he does mention that Jesus drove them out with a whip that he made himself. That tells us two very important things:

1) Jesus was not guilty of rage, or of losing his temper. He had thought things through far enough in advance to make a whip just for this occasion. And,

2) Jesus had some mad skills.

Those two ideas were not new to me as I read the passage this morning. But in an effort to draw more out of Jesus' teachings, I have taken the advice of Ray VanderLaan, and started paying close attention to the source of Jesus' quotes. VanderLaan teaches that, when Jesus quotes the Old Testament, his true message is often not so much in the actual words he says, as in the passage he is referring to. This is not to say that Jesus is being misleading or disingenuous--every word he says is true--but that there is deeper meaning available for those who familiarize themselves with the Bible of Jesus' day. And I believe this is the case with the temple-clearing scene.

When he rebukes the temple officials, Jesus quotes two Old Testament prophets in one sentence. "My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations" comes from Isaiah chapter 56. The second part, about the den of robbers, comes from Jeremiah chapter 7.

OK, that was easy enough. All you have to do is check the footnotes to find that out. But now how about reading those two chapters? What are they really about?

One very intriguing thing about the temple-clearing passage is the emphasis on Jesus' teaching. You'd think, at a moment like this, everybody would either be cheering or jeering because of Jesus' behavior, not his words. But even in the midst of such outlandish deeds, the focus is on what Jesus is saying. Mark does not suggest that he is shouting his memory verses at the top of his lungs as he throws tables over the wall, and busts open the pigeon cages. Rather it says he is teaching the people. Likewise, when the chief priests heard this, they wanted to kill him, not for causing a ruckus, but because the people were amazed at his teaching.

Now I don't think we can conclude that the priests and teachers wanted to kill Jesus out of jealousy. As if one instructor at a school wins the educator of the year award and the others set right out to build a gallows in the teachers' lounge. It is indeed possible that Jesus' popularity and competency as a rabbi aroused the green-eyed monster among his colleagues, but it is far more likely that they wanted to kill him for what he taught than how he taught.

So what was Jesus really teaching? That the temple officials were getting a little carried away with the merchandising? That things were being run too much like a business and not enough like the house of God? Perhaps that people were getting ripped off and short-changed?

These things could all be fairly drawn from the text, and I don't think they would be wrong. But look again before you set fire to your church bookstore or tip over the soda machine. Because I believe that Jesus' heart on the matter lies in the message of Isaiah 56 and Jeremiah 7.

The Isaiah passage makes a beautiful promise to Israel's outsiders; to those who fear that their lineage will exclude them from the kingdom of God. A special comfort goes out to the eunuchs, who have been so mutilated as to never be considered among the circumcised. God essentially is telling the world, "No matter who you are, where you're from, or what your past is like, if you bind yourself to me, and keep my commands, I will hear your prayers and accept your sacrifices." What an incredible message (especially in the Old Testament!)

Now it's important to recognize that the Temple in Jerusalem had four courts: The Court of the Gentiles, and going inward from there, the Court of Women, the Court of Men, and the Holy of Holies. It is obvious that God intended people from all nations to be welcome at the Temple (even if only in the outer court,) to worship there and offer their sacrifices. But by Jesus' day, the rulers of the Temple had allowed (caused?) the Court of the Gentiles to overflow with merchants and money changers. This made it impossible for non-Jews to worship there, and sent a very strong message that they were not welcome.

So Jesus barges in and declares that the Temple was meant to be a house of prayer for all nations, not for one nation only! Israel had a sacred duty to welcome people of every stripe to God's house, and they had failed.

Not only had they failed to provide hospitality to the nations, they had traded hospitality for iniquity. A place designed to radiate the grace of God was serving instead to highlight the greed of men. Thus the Jeremiah quote about the 'den of robbers'.

And this is where we really come to understand that Jesus is not merely venting about the misuse of a worship facility, but pronouncing doom on a nation who ignores God's commands. Because in Jeremiah chapter 7 we can see very clearly God's displeasure with those who would "oppress the alien," among others (verse 7.) God commands Jeremiah to stand at the gate of the temple, and announce that God is giving his people one last chance to reject false gods and serve him only, to treat people with love and grace and hospitality, and he will continue to accept their offerings and allow them to live in the Promised Land.

But if they do not--and Jesus was making it very clear that they had not--then God would no longer accept their sacrifices. In fact, God told them they might as well keep their sacrifices to themselves, because he was about to destroy the temple and scatter them from their homeland.

When Jesus referenced Jeremiah 7 (and when he said other things about the Temple, like "not one stone will be left on another") , he was making it very plain that Israel had had her chance, and she blew it. No wonder the chief priests and teachers of the law were fuming.

But right there, in the midst of a proclamation of doom, Jesus was making a promise of redemption. All the people were amazed at his teaching, because they were sick of being excluded. What a thought, that God would welcome everyone into his presence! What a thought, for you and I, that God is calling us to stop holding the "undesirables" at arm's length, and start truly showing them the love of Christ! Over and over we see it: Jesus talking with the Samaritan woman or the Roman general, Philip baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch, Peter seeing the vision of unclean foods, James inspiring us to honor the poor, or Paul dedicating his life's ministry to the Gentiles. What a grand theme of Jesus' life... to subvert the natural order, to exalt the humble and humiliate the self-exalted!

Despite the grand message, you might have concluded that Jesus didn't go far enough in his purging. Yes, he fought to give back the Court of the Gentiles, but what about all the separation? Why should the Gentiles be considered less than the Jews, and the women be denied privileges reserved for men?

During his life, you'd be right. Jesus did stop short. But when he was crucified, all that he'd been saying came to an explosive climax. Because at that moment, the curtain in the temple, designed by God to keep virtually all people separated from his presence, was ripped in two from top to bottom. Now, not only are Gentiles welcome among the Jews, but each and every person who trusts in Jesus is granted access to the heart of God!

Paul said it best in Galatians 3:28. "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

Amen.

The Cross and the Bench

Allow me to paint you a picture.

You've got two big, flat pieces of wood, and a quasi-church-coffeehouse-type building. The pieces of wood are as old as the building itself. You don't need them for framing or construction, but they're too cool and historic to throw away. What do you do with them?

One of our volunteers at the Front Porch had a suggestion: a cross! Why not? When a Christian has two big pieces of wood and a quasi-church whatever... a cross is a natural solution.

I love this guy, who suggested this. He is one of the most genuine, friendly, helpful people I know. But on this point, I had to disagree. When I see two pieces of wood that ought to be used somehow, you know what I think?

A bench. Right outside the front door. Maybe even a place for a Christ-follower to have a cigarette with a stranger (note: smoking is bad for you.)

More importantly, a bench on the sidewalk is a place for conversation. It's a place to sit down, relax, and get to know somebody. And since it's on a sidewalk, there's no telling who might walk by and want to join you, or recognize you from somewhere else and stick around to chat.

If you want my opinion about the cross... Jesus' death was the most important event in all of history (with the possible exception of his resurrection... or maybe Creation.) The cross represents the turning point of mankind, and it is the hinge (better yet, the crux) on which our spirituality turns. I love the cross.

But do I wear one? No. Do we display them in our home? Not really. Do I want to have a cross up at the Front Porch? Probably not.

Because, no matter how much you love the cross, you have to ask yourself why you would want to keep one around. If you have a good reason for it, more power to you. But I can also see some ways that being in the constant presence of symbols of our faith has brought about complacency.

What religion is Jack? Christian. How do you know? The fish on his car.

Does ABC Plumbing charge a fair price? Probably. How do you know? The cross in their ad.

Our symbols can so easily define us... to others and to ourselves. When we are surrounded by them, we feel that we have made our point. But what might happen if our symbols disappeared? What if we suddenly forgot all our cliches and buzzwords? Then how would people know what we believe?

We might have to resort to caring for the poor, visiting the sick, and listening to the weird. We might have to fall back on things like love, prayer, and worship (the real kind... from the depths of our heart.) We might decide to actually spend time with people... and be Christ to them.

I'm not saying that Christians never do these things. But if that's all we had to define us, maybe we'd be a little more gung-ho about it, don't you think?

So once again, I love the cross. But if you're out and about, and you see a little miniature bench that I could glue to my fender, call me.

No More Sissy Jesus

It looks like Christianity is playing a new game of “He Said, She Said.”

She said, “Jesus is our bridegroom, and we’re his bride. And that’s great, because he’s kind and gentle and forgiving, and he wants us to worship him with pretty music and poetry and floral arrangements all over the place.”

He said, “Jesus is a masculine dude… he was a carpenter and rebel. He was always stickin’ it to the man. You know, calling the Phrisees vipers and battling Satan and driving the crooks out of the Temple with a whip he made himself. He wants us to worship him with rock music and shouting and gut-level honesty and risk-taking and bending metal.”

Literally.

Good Morning America this morning featured an organization called “GodMen”, that wants to give the Christian faith a shot in the arm… the big, muscle-bound arm. And it turns out that muscles are a very important aspect to this brand of faith, because some participants actually get the opportunity to bend frying pans.

GodMen’s founder Brad Stine says the point is to “toughen up Christian men.”

Here’s the problem, as they see it: apparently only 4 out of 10 church-goers is male (and it’s not unlikely that 1 of those 4 was dragged there by his wife.) Some men have looked around at the total package experience of Church, and found the reason was obvious. Everything seems tailored to appeal to women: the music, the décor… Even the target virtues (grace, love, peace, etc) have a feminine slant.

They’ve got a point. But if you think you know where I’m going with this… hold on.

Stine says, “There’s nuances to Christianity; there’s elements that we haven’t been taught as men because we’re different from women. So when we walk into a church, we don’t see metal, we see ferns. We’re not used to that. We want something that shows the masculine side as well. We’re not trying to take over. We love the feminine side, but we think there should be a balance so that both sides are represented.”

So I’ve gotta ask… Is the Church a democratic republic? Is the goal to evenly represent the characteristics and personalities of its members?

We have no excuse in this day and age to ignore the role that culture plays in our spiritual development. Because we are “in the world” we can never get away from that influence. And if you’re a man, you may indeed be feeling somewhat left out of the equation… much like a Spanish speaker in an English-language service. “Is anyone here trying to relate to me?”

But at the end of the day, these “GodMen” need to recognize that God is not a man. Nor is he a woman. God transcends masculinity and femininity... and it’s a good thing, too. Because our gender, our language, our nationality, our personality... these things are just launchpads from which we embark our spiritual journey. And although we will never fully escape them during our lifetimes, we are foolish to strap ourselves down.

Kudos to these guys for keeping it real, and for driving the message home in a fresh and relevant way. But when they go back to their home congregations, let’s hope they take with them far more than a penchant for gender equity. Let’s hope we can all learn to die to ourselves, and be found alive in Christ.