1ChurchVoice

After death . . .

I treasure the "end" of Julie's Holy Week reflections. Here's one, key quote:

Some will argue that Christianity and Easter are much more than this picture of Jesus as I've painted him and his relationships. I'd say most Easter celebrations I've attended are about less.

She reaches her conclusion:

This year, I stayed home and dyed eggs with my husband and kids. As MLK Jr would call it, I was a conscientious objector to church-ified Easter. This Easter is the day my faith died. It is now utterly in ruins, in a tomb waiting for some kind of resuscitation...

Amen.

As I grow older and think more about the resurrection and what it means, and what it doesn't mean, I'm less sure that I understand any of it.

Like Julie, I've been disillusioned more than once by the institutional church. But one thing I am sure of: the life in Christ we are part has a non-reducible, unchangeable pattern.  First there is death, and then there is resurrection.  Another way to say it:  After failure, loss, hurt, abandonment, and regret, there is redemption.  It sounds like Julie is in the middle of death.

I will pray for her, and it will be a prayer filled with confidence. Somehow, Jesus always brings resurrection.

Living in Two Worlds

As readers of this blog will note (if there are, in fact, ANY readers of this blog), over the past couple of years I have learned about a postmodern approach to faith.  That approach, perhaps more rightly described as encountering Jesus with a postmodern worldview, has been tremendously energizing to my faith.  I have found myself praying more, studying scripture more, thinking about Jesus more.  It’s been great.

But I also realize that we live in a time, and I live in a place (Houston, Texas), where modernity reigns.  For evidence, look no further than Minute Maid Park (the Houston Astros’ stadium), where two mega-churches will combine this Sunday for a concert/worship service.   The Houston Chronicle covers it.  The money quote:

"If this were about Second Baptist and Windsor Village only, I wouldn't do it," said Caldwell, who pastors the largest United Methodist Church in the nation with more than 15,000 members, most of them black.

"This is about bringing men and women, boys and girls under one roof to celebrate the resurrection of our lord and savior Jesus Christ and then encouraging those persons who decide to develop a personal relationship with Jesus to go to the church of their choice," Caldwell said.

And just in case you wondered to whom this event is being directed, here’s a description of the sermon:

They will share the preaching duties. Young will present the "forensic evidence" for the resurrection of Christ. "(The Apostle) Paul said if the resurrection is not true, then we are all fools," Young said.

Caldwell will follow with "the practical power of Jesus Christ, his willingness and ability to transform our lives."

Yep, first we’re going to scientifically prove that Jesus was resurrection, and then we’re going to tell you how that can make your life happy.

I’m a bit sad that 40,000 people will be there, and I do pray that something good will come of it. 

Distraction

A bit more than a week ago, I somehow found this article from Brian McLaren, on the Leadership blog.  Over the last few years I’ve read a lot of Brian’s books and even met him in person.  A lot of what he writes and says really resonates with me.  So I was interested to hear what he had to say about a pastoral response to homosexuality.  (It’s an issue that has, almost literally, ripped the PCUSA apart.) 

Not surprisingly, I was impressed with McLaren’s article.  It reflects, to me, a sensitivity to the pain of this subject as well as the sovereignty and love of God.  It seemed to me a rare, helpful contribution to the conversation.

I was disappointed and surprised to read, a few days later that Mark Driscoll, pastor Mars Hill church in Seattle, had savagely reacted to McLaren.  Read that post, here.  In just a few short paragraphs, he manages to be sarcastic, bigotted, and just plain mean. 

McLaren responded, characteristically, with grace and eloquence.  He tries to re-direct the conversation to a place where we can reflect on “not only about our rightness, but also about our ability to be “wise. And loving. And patient.” However flawed my original article was, and however flawed some responses may be, might we agree on the value of that?” 

In other words, Brian McLaren is trying to be a pastor to the people involved in this conversation.

But Mark Driscoll won’t let go of the bone.  He posts a comment which reads, in part:  “Do you personally believe that all sexual activity between two persons of the same gender is always a sin?”  He is desperate to get Brian to enter the “culture war” with him.

 

I’m amazed at the whole exchange.  It clearly answers the questions “Is Mark Driscoll an emerging conversation guy?”  (Nope.  He seems to be an ascendant, mega-church pastor like Ed Young.) 

It also points out the almost crazy place that the culture wars have managed to put our “christian” leaders on the left and the right.  In this exchange, Mark Driscoll seems almost excited to be abandoning any pretense of following Christ, just so he can get in his licks on McLaren.  He wants to WIN, WIN, WIN.  And it’s absolutely beyond his comprehension that anyone could not be fighting the same culture war that he is in. 

For some of us, and I think Brian McLaren is included, the culture wars are a devil-inspired distraction from the work that is set before us:  sharing with a fallen and hurting world the good news of God’s love in Jesus Christ.  As long as the church can fight about sex, it can avoid really listening to Jesus, and reaching out to the world. 

a strange ceremony

On Sunday morning, MDPC “installed” a new pastor.  Almost everything about the ceremony struck me as strange.  It was watching a process perfectly designed for the church of 1955 try to make sense in the church of 2005.  Some examples:

The pastor was being installed as a pastor at MDPC, even though he was not hired to serve as a pastor here.  Instead, he’ll be serving as the founding pastor of an inner-city church that MDPC is sponsoring.  During the installation service, the congregation was asked a series of questions, including “Do you promise to listen to the word he preaches?  Respect his authority?”  Well, we might, except that he is not serving this church.  We were making promises that we could not keep. 

The make up of the installation commission also interesting.  The pastor being installed is in his early thirties.  Every one of the installation commission members was at least 25 years older. 

The installation process itself seemed badly out-of-place.  I would guess that 80% of the people in the congregation don’t know what a presbytery is, and at least 90% have no idea why a presbytery would be called in to install a pastor.  Unfortunately, nothing in the installation service helped educate them. 

Finally, we conducted the installation in all three worship services yesterday morning.  I suppose this was an attempt to make members of the congregation feel “included”.  Instead, it just reinforced the idea that this was a show.  If something were really happening, then once would do it, right? 

The moderator of presbytery, RT, participated in the installation.  He is a member of MDPC and I have served with him on various committees.  He is smart, thoughtful, and completely committed to the work of Christ in the world and through the church.  I felt sad to see him, and all the others on the chancel, caught up a drama which no longer seems to make much sense. 

Christmas Community

As I was cooking nachos for my daughters’ dinner tonight, we all heard the front doorbell ring.  By the time we got to the front door, the FedEx truck was already pulling away.  But left behind was a package from The Portico, an emerging PCUSA congregation that Beth and I are committed to supporting.  We’ve never been to this church, and Beth has never even met the pastor, Rodger Sellers.  But Rodger and I have been e-friends for 18 months, and we met in person at the Emerging Conference last May. 

Inside the package were four, beautifully carved, wooden reindeer.  There were two “adults” and two “children”.  And there was a note which read, in part:  “All of these ‘Portico Reindeer’ shared space on our communion table last night during out worship, each one signifying your uniqueness and our thanks that we have such friends like you.  There were a powerful visual metaphor of one aspect of our communal life – that we trul are a community blessed with special friends in many different places.”

This was a gracious and powerful way of reminding of our family that we are part of another faith community.  We are honored to be connected.

The American Church on the Internet

I’m a pretty serious participant on the Internet.  My business depends on it, and my wife (Beth) and I use it for all sorts of communication with each other:  IM, email, etc.  I use an RSS aggregator, Firefox, del.icio.us, and other tools for interacting with other folks across the ‘net.  Also Flickr and several blogs, for contributing to the content out there. 

But my church (MDPC) participates in none of this.  The web site is mostly static, and certainly one-way:  there are not chat rooms, bulletin board/forums, or any way to contribute my ideas, thoughts, prayers, etc.  There is no RSS feed, no blogs, and no IM.  There is no electronic “community”.

And even though we now have a fairly large (5 people), professional communications department, I’m not sure I see this changing.  Tonight I read a post which makes me wonder if MDPC’s problem is not just one example of much larger problem:  The American Christian church is designed around a model of one speaker talking to many people.  In other words, it’s broadcast.  Pastors/churches talk; people listen.

The Internet, on the other hand, seems to support and encourage peer-to-peer connections (much to the chagrin of the music industry).  By posting on my blog, my voice can be heard by one, several, or millions of people.  By reading other people’s blogs, and looking at their pictures, and chatting with them on IM, I can connect with their lives.  It is, or can be, a very intimate medium. 

Conceptually, that intimacy and openness should be a good fit for a church devoted to following Jesus.  Imagine a place where we can share our stories, build relationships, and learn about Jesus together, in a place that transcends geography and physical limitations.  What an incredible opportunity!

But the American church doesn’t yet “get” this model.  It is not so much opposed to the Internet (though there are some churches that can’t stand it) as it just doesn’t understand it.  How can it exist in a place where individuals are empowered to create, think, and imagine in a global marketplace of ideas and examples? 

Although the American church is in a different universe from the Internet right now, I have to confess that I think followers of Jesus Christ can use the Internet in wildly effective and innovative ways.  That will be fun to watch.  And I’ve got a few ideas on how to jump start this.

McLaren at Princeton

On the family drive to the in-laws this Thanksgiving afternoon, we listened to a recording of a speech that Brian McLaren made at Princeton Seminary earlier this month.  A recording has been provided by Adam Cleaveland, here.  If you have any interest in the emergent conversation, I encourage you to listen to it.  Although he’s clearly directing his comments at mainline seminary students and professors, his analysis of the American church situation is penetrating and his enthusiasm for the emerging conversation is encouraging. 

It’s also fun for me to be learning and thinking about these subjects with my wife.  I find it really energizing to be thinking about ecclesiology, christology, and even epistomology with my partner in life.  Not only is she smart, so she helps me learn, but by addressing these issues together, it’s easier to turn theology into real practice in our lives.  And, after all, that’s what both of us really want:  to live out our lives as people following Christ. 

deep and unpredictable grace

A few years back, I had a client that owned a bunch of nightclubs.  According to their CFO, the biggest night of the year for their clubs was the night before Thanksgiving.  Apparently, people just need a little break before the family and the turkey.

We went a different direction and headed to church.  The Thanksgiving Eve service is one of my favorite services of the year.  There are lots of reasons for this, I suppose:  the Sanctuary is always beautiful at night, the anticipation of the coming holiday, the chance to serve communion, and the time and space to be thankful in an intentional way.  Today met all my expectations, and even exceeded them, because for the first time our daughters were in the Sanctuary with us.  They sat on the front row, where the elders sit, and quietly drew and colored.  Rachel stood up with me for some of the hymns and read the words on the screens.  Hannah didn’t participate much, but stayed quiet and respectful for the full hour.

Afterwards, we hung out in the Sanctuary for a few minutes, just chatting with folks.  I love being part of the community of the church.

Our daughters were, by far, the youngest people in the Sanctuary.  There were no kids in child care, and the next youngest people were either in college or just out of college.  It makes me sad that no families with kids the same ages as our kids were there.  I’m not sad because I think the girls need someone to play with (they don’t; they were perfectly happy with each other).  Instead, I’m sad because I think there is tremendous blessing in spending that kind of time in worship, and I want other people to experience that blessing.  Also, it makes me wonder how out of place our family really is at our church.  How do we fit into a community where our contemporaries don’t worship with us?

Over the course of the last few months, my wife Beth and I have been having a discussion about how to introduce our daughters to communion.  The conversation started because of an announcement in the church newsletter about a “first communion” training class being given at the church.  Originally, we were going to send RRR to the class.  But then, hurricane Rita caused the class to be postponed, and we started thinking some more.  We decided that sending Rachel to the class was, in a sense, abandoning our responsibility to teach her about our faith.  It would reinforce the consumerist model of the church, which is far too prevalent, in which we send our kids off to church so that some professionals can teach them how to be religious.  We decided, instead, that we would talk to both of our kids about communion, mostly by reading scripture and telling stories about what communion means to each of us.  And then we’ll ask them if they are ready.  If they are, we’ll invite them to communion. 

Tonight, as we were standing around the communion table after the service, the girls wanted some of the bread which had been used by the pastor in the words of institution.  Since it was, otherwise, going straight into the trash can, we gave them some.  Then Beth had the idea of letting them try a communion wafer and some grape juice.  I was suddenly struck by the miraculous evidence of God at work:  We were being given a chance to introduce the girls to the physical elements of communion in a low-key way.  It was a chance for us to continue teaching them and getting them ready for communion. 

Tonight, I am very thankful for God’s deep, rich, unpredictable graces.

A few years back, I had a client that owned a bunch of nightclubs.  According to their CFO, the biggest night of the year for their clubs was the night before Thanksgiving.  Apparently, people just need a little break before the family and the turkey.

We went a different direction and headed to church.  The Thanksgiving Eve service is one of my favorite services of the year.  There are lots of reasons for this, I suppose:  the Sanctuary is always beautiful at night, the anticipation of the coming holiday, the chance to serve communion, and the time and space to be thankful in an intentional way.  Today met all my expectations, and even exceeded them, because for the first time our daughters were in the Sanctuary with us.  They sat on the front row, where the elders sit, and quietly drew and colored.  Rachel stood up with me for some of the hymns and read the words on the screens.  Hannah didn’t participate much, but stayed quiet and respectful for the full hour.

Afterwards, we hung out in the Sanctuary for a few minutes, just chatting with folks.  I love being part of the community of the church.

Our daughters were, by far, the youngest people in the Sanctuary.  There were no kids in child care, and the next youngest people were either in college or just out of college.  It makes me sad that no families with kids the same ages as our kids were there.  I’m not sad because I think the girls need someone to play with (they don’t; they were perfectly happy with each other).  Instead, I’m sad because I think there is tremendous blessing in spending that kind of time in worship, and I want other people to experience that blessing.  Also, it makes me wonder how out of place our family really is at our church.  How do we fit into a community where our contemporaries don’t worship with us?

Over the course of the last few months, my wife Beth and I have been having a discussion about how to introduce our daughters to communion.  The conversation started because of an announcement in the church newsletter about a “first communion” training class being given at the church.  Originally, we were going to send RRR to the class.  But then, hurricane Rita caused the class to be postponed, and we started thinking some more.  We decided that sending Rachel to the class was, in a sense, abandoning our responsibility to teach her about our faith.  It would reinforce the consumerist model of the church, which is far too prevalent, in which we send our kids off to church so that some professionals can teach them how to be religious.  We decided, instead, that we would talk to both of our kids about communion, mostly by reading scripture and telling stories about what communion means to each of us.  And then we’ll ask them if they are ready.  If they are, we’ll invite them to communion. 

Tonight, as we were standing around the communion table after the service, the girls wanted some of the bread which had been used by the pastor in the words of institution.  Since it was, otherwise, going straight into the trash can, we gave them some.  Then Beth had the idea of letting them try a communion wafer and some grape juice.  I was suddenly struck by the miraculous evidence of God at work:  We were being given a chance to introduce the girls to the physical elements of communion in a low-key way.  It was a chance for us to continue teaching them and getting them ready for communion. 

Tonight, I am very thankful for God’s deep, rich, unpredictable graces.

emerging

The last Dwelling Place worship gathering was more than three months ago, now.  And lately my thinking about that has been undergoing a shift. 

At the Emergent Convention two months ago, Brian McLaren said “The emerging church is not about emerging into a new style of worship.  It’s about a new way of understanding the gospel.”  At the time, I knew that was a big thought, but it’s taken me two months to start unpacking it for myself.  (And I’ve only started.)

More and more, I think he’s right.  And if he’s right, then starting a new worship service, like Dwelling Place, may be the wrong place to “emerge”.  The worship will come later.  Instead, I may need to focus on finding a community of folks who are trying to think about the gospel in new ways, and just start “living” with them some. 

Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing through blogs and email. 

Scoop silence

One of the pleasures of my life is Wednesday nights at Scoop, the Middle School Bible study at MDPC.  I like the students, who are earnest and funny and caring and very alive.  We have good discussions.

Tonight we talked about the Holy Spirit.  I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good leader, because I mostly listened.  As the students and other leaders were raising good questions about the trinity, the life of Christ, and how we learn from God, I found myself just listening and thinking.  Maybe I’ll have the chance to contribute leadership in the weeks to come.  Tonight it just felt blessed to think about things that matter.