The Second Sunday

After a wave of “first Sundays” across the connection, United Methodist pastors woke up to discover it is week two, and another Sunday is right around the corner.

We celebrated last weekend, pulled out all the stops, wore all the nametags, shook all the hands. Preachers brought their "A" game. Musicians filled sanctuaries with joyous praise. Hospitality teams polished up welcome desks. And it was wonderful! It was a party! There was cake! Everyone was there to check out the new pastor, and it felt like a big family reunion where one of the kids is bringing home a new significant other for everyone to meet.

It was great.

And guess what … this coming Sunday is just as important. I might even go so far as to say that this coming Sunday is even more important. A one-time celebration of a special event is awesome and spectacular and fun, and I don’t want to take anything away from all the good stuff that United Methodist churches did last weekend. It was a mountaintop moment.

Faithful, fruitful discipleship is more than just mountaintops. Following Jesus is comprised of mountaintop moments that are connected by long stretches of valley, and those valleys are where life happens. Those valleys are where faith is tested. Those valleys are where we grow and learn and serve and share.

The good news is that there’s another mountaintop coming. We get one a week, actually! How cool is that? When we gather together to be the church at worship, whether it is the new pastor’s first Sunday or the old pastor’s one thousand first, it is the day the Lord has made and we ought to rejoice and be glad in it.

For a lot of us, this weekend will be the second Sunday (or Saturday) of a new appointment. And I hope we pull out all the stops and bring our "A" games and fill the room with joyous praise. Yes, again. Because God is worth it.

God’s grace comes both in periodic bursts of brilliance and in slow, steady streams. We live in valleys interspersed with occasional mountaintop moments. Growing in faithfulness means learning how to navigate both.

It’s the second Sunday, week two. There may not be cake this week. Get up and go worship anyway. I’ll see y’all in church.

We All Belong to God - Sermon manuscript, February 17, 2019

We All Belong to God                           February 17, 2019 - Year C: Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
Romans 14:7-12
Sermon idea: The source of Christian unity is not us (our beliefs, practices, thoughts, opinions); the source of Christian unity is Christ - we belong to Christ.
Series theme: A Holy Mess: Christian Unity in the 21st Century
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I usually outline my sermons and then preach by following that outline. But this morning I have done something a little different; I wrote the whole thing out, word for word. I did it this way because I want to be particularly careful with my word choices today, and also because I want to make sure I say the same thing at all three services this morning. (Most Sundays, my sermons are a “holy mess,” and you never know what you’re going to hear from one service to the next, as Pastor Adrienne can tell you!)

It feels like there is an extra significance to this sermon, because it is coming just a few days ahead of a specially called session of the General Conference of the United Methodist Church, which is the global meeting of 864 delegates tasked to set policy and doctrine for our entire denomination. Normally, the General Conference meets every four years; the last one was in 2016 and the next one will be in 2020.

One of the reasons the United Methodist Church is having a special called session of General Conference next week is simply this: we have been trying to have two very different conversations simultaneously, and that, predictably, has not been very productive.

For some (and I put myself in this group) the conversation is about ecclesial practices, specifically marriage and ordination. These two practices of the church are significant, meaningful, and important aspects of the church’s identity. For our Roman Catholic siblings, they are sacraments.

And so for this group of United Methodists, the questions on the table are, “Will we marry same-sex couples?” and “Will we ordain people regardless of sexual orientation?” Much of the conversation is defined as a dialogue about allowing for differences in the practices of ministry. It is equivalent to a conversation about whether to baptize infants by sprinkling or to baptize teenagers by full immersion. A significant, meaningful practice of the church, done differently in different contexts.

I am able to define the conversation this way, but others are not.

For others (and I have many friends and colleagues in this group) the conversation is about sin and salvation, specifically the church’s response to and inclusion of those they believe are unrepentant sinners. This group embraces the idea, “Love the sinner; hate the sin,” and would say that gay people are welcome to be a part of the church, on the condition that they not be married or ordained here.

For this group of United Methodists, the questions on the table are, “Will we condone sin?” and “Will we be disobedient to Scripture?” It is deeper than just a different way to do ministry, because it speaks to a reality of all human experience, namely our sexuality. For this group, the conversation is visceral, and fundamental to our Christian faith. It is equivalent to a conversation about the nature of God or the divinity of Jesus.

Granted, this is an over-simplification, an artificially binary viewpoint that does not adequately describe the nuance and subtlety of the situation. But I think this is a fairly accurate illustration of the holy mess that lies ahead of us. How is it possible to even converse about a way forward, much less discern one, when we are stuck having two such dramatically different yet simultaneous conversations?

And there are some who have already answered this question, deciding, “No, we cannot talk about this any more. It’s time to go.” Indeed there have already been members, pastors, even entire congregations who have left the United Methodist Church, in part because we do not agree on the parameters of the conversation itself. After next week, there will undoubtedly be more who leave, no matter what the outcome of the General Conference may be.

I want to say that I do not begrudge anyone’s decision to leave one congregation for another, or to leave one denomination altogether and connect with another, when that decision is about discipleship. When you join a church, you join a group of people with whom you want to follow Jesus. A group of people who will encourage you and hold you accountable to your Christian discipleship, and for whom you can provide similar encouragement and accountability.

Joining a church is all about choosing a certain group of people to walk among in your Christian journey.

And many factors go into that decision, among them location, size, style of worship, theology of the pastor, even whether or not the congregation hosts same-sex weddings. The point is to follow Jesus, not what particular church you are a part of.

Different congregations and different denominations are expressions of the diversity of the Church, one body with many members. The Church’s unity is not dependent upon our understandings, but rather depends on God. As Paul wrote,  ...to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living. Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. (Romans 14)

Christ is Lord of all of us. Resurrection means that each and every one of us belongs to God, and to God alone. If Christ died and lived again for all of us, if we actually believe that we all belong to God, then can we not commit to be united in the hard work of honest, respectful, and gracious dialogue about our differences of opinion?

Or will we insist that our unity comes not from Christ, but from a uniformity of belief? A uniformity which, when absent, thereby erodes our essential spiritual unity. I for one do not equate Christian unity with doctrinal uniformity. Granted, uniformity is tidier than unity, and we do like things to be “neat and tidy.” But unity can actually be quite messy, and it does not even imply lock-step uniformity.

 In fact when Jesus himself discussed unity, he did not describe uniformity of specific teachings. Rather, he prayed for unity in profoundly relational terms, expressing his desire in John 17: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Notice, Jesus asks us not to believe in a list of particular ideas, but rather to believe in him. It is our relationship with Jesus that unites us, not our beliefs about Jesus. And the reason Jesus unites us as one body is so that the world will know. Our unity is a witness to the world, a testimony to the power of God’s love.

I have heard some criticize “unity for unity’s sake.” They ask, “Are we to remain united at all costs? How much disagreement is enough, and how disagreement much is just too much? Are we just wanting unity for the sake of unity?” My answer: “Yes, in a way.” Unity in diversity is inherently a witness to the power of God’s love, and to the death and resurrection of Jesus. When we are united in spite of disagreement, we are announcing to the world that Christ is bigger than us, that God’s love is more powerful than our disagreements, and that the Holy Spirit is alive and well within and among us all.

This profound, relational unity is accomplished not by us but by the Holy Spirit, whose unifying power on Pentecost gave all who gathered the ability to understand, in spite of their obvious linguistic diversity. This spiritual unity is not something the Bible says should happen, it is something the Bible says does happen.

Unity is described in many places, including Ephesians 4:1-6. Paul writes, “I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”

This passage asks us to “maintain” Spiritual unity, not create it. This passage says there “is” one body, not there should be. Spiritual unity is assumed in the Bible. Relational unity in Christ is a given in Scripture. Galatians 3:26-28 emphasizes the point this way, “...in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

Unity is described, taken as a given for followers of Jesus. The Bible doesn’t say “You should be one.” The Bible says “You are one.”

We who are called “Methodist” should understand this more deeply than anyone. It is in our theological DNA, so to speak. The founder of our movement, John Wesley, seemed to get this better than most. Wesley understood Christian unity and was able to talk about it in powerful, articulate ways.

He said, “Every wise man, therefore, will allow others the same liberty of thinking which he desires they should allow him; and will no more insist on their embracing his opinions, than he would have them to insist on his embracing theirs. He bears with those who differ from him, and only asks him with whom he desires to unite in love that single question, ‘Is thy heart right, as my heart is with thy heart? … If it be, give me thy hand.’”

This is a quote from Wesley’s sermon titled “The Catholic Spirit.” Every United Methodist ought to read the full sermon at some point; this week would be a pretty opportune time to do so. Because, as I may have mentioned before, we have a pretty significant meeting coming up this week.

Friday evening, I’ll head to St. Louis. Saturday the delegates will convene for a day of prayer together. Sunday we will focus on prioritizing the various proposals. Monday is scheduled for legislative work, amending and perfecting the plan. And then Tuesday, final debate and vote. At least that’s the idea. We’ll see how things go once we get there. It may get a bit … messy.

I’d like to share my personal position with you, knowing that there are people listening to this right now whose position is different than mine. So please don’t get mad and leave - this is me being honest about me.

I do not believe the Bible directly blesses same-sex relationships, nor do I believe the Bible directly condemns same-sex relationships. I believe that, in order to bless or condemn them, one has to interpret what the Bible truly says.

So I interpret the Bible to condemn relationships that are idolatrous, abusive, objectifying, and degrading, no matter the gender of the individuals in the relationship.

On the flipside, I interpret the Bible to bless relationships that are loving, respectful, grace-filled, mutually affirming, and committed to a lifelong covenant, no matter the gender of the individuals in the relationship.

And because of how I interpret Scripture, I would like the United Methodist Church to change our policies that restrict marriage to only heterosexual couples and restrict ordination to only straight people.

But I know that others interpret Scripture differently. And so I would like for the United Methodist Church to also include an explicit statement that says pastors are not compelled to marry any couple, nor are bishops compelled to ordain any person, if their conscience does not permit them to do so. For the record, that makes me a fan of what is known as the “One Church Plan.”

And along with that change, I want us to stay together, as messy as that may be. I want us to recognize that unity is not uniformity. I want us to honor Christ’s life, death, and resurrection by affirming the truth of our spiritual unity, in spite of our diverse theological perspectives. The source of our unity is not us, not our beliefs, not our practices, not our thoughts and opinions. The source of Christian unity is Christ.

The United Methodist Church seems to be at a tipping point, and the old structures of the connection are rapidly eroding. It is a theological Gethsemane moment for us - And if we believe in resurrection, this is not a bad thing.

Rather than worry about who might leave the denomination after next week, shouldn't we be excited about who might join? Shouldn't we celebrate the new life emerging from the tomb? I, for one, commit to a resurrection redefinition of our beloved connection, and I hope the other delegates will too.

We are all, each and every one of us, a beloved child of God. We all belong to God. That is a stronger bond than any we could ever create ourselves.

"Look Down" - Our Fundamental Connectedness

“Look down, look down, don’t look them in the eye.

Look down, look down, you’re here until you die.”

One of the themes of the musical Les Miserables is this refrain – “Look down.” These are in fact the first words sung, by the prisoners on the chain gang. They are words of caution spoken among them, since to make eye contact with the guards would invite a harsh response. And metaphorically, to “look up” and express any hope for the future was dangerous. Hence:

“I know she’ll wait; I know that she’ll be true.

Look down, look down, they’ve all forgotten you.”

Later, the refrain is sung by the people of Paris.

“Look down and see the beggars at your feet.

Look down and show some mercy if you can.

Look down and see the sweepings of the street.

Look down, look down, upon your fellow man.”

This time around, the words “look down” are spoken by the poorest in the streets as a plea to the people of the upper class, asking them to “look down” with mercy and pity. To “look down” on another person metaphorically is to think they are “less than,” to consider oneself superior to them. And if superior, then disconnected.

Herein lies the ethical problem of arrogance. When one person or group of people think they are inherently superior to another, they are assuming a disconnect that does not in fact exist. The person or group that has self-identified as superior will likely not see it as such, but in fact the separation they assume is mythical.

Because of course, we are not in the slightest bit disconnected from one another. In fact, we are more intimately woven together than we realize. The Bible expresses this truth in many ways, including in the creation story itself. Human beings are connected to one another and to the rest of creation from the very beginning, even receiving divine instruction to watch over the other living creatures in the same manner and with the same care as the Creator would.

In the Christian Scriptures this profoundly interconnected unity is one of the most significant themes. The people are described as individual parts of one body. When one suffers, all suffer. When one rejoices, all rejoice. “You are one in Christ” is not a word of instruction; it is a description of reality. Over and over again, the Christian religion affirms our fundamental connectedness to one another, and to the world around us.

In stark contrast, so much of what we experience in the world encourages us to separate from one another. Backyard decks with six-foot privacy fences have replaced front porches. Fear and suspicion are our initial reactions to strangers, rather than friendly hospitality. Public interactions are defined by video screens and earbuds rather than eye contact, handshakes, and real-time conversations. “Look down” takes on a whole new meaning for people messing around on their phones instead of interacting with the world around them.

Beyond that, the ones we do connect with tend to be very, very similar to our selves, and thus very, very familiar. We live inside of bubbles we have created for ourselves. We only watch news channels we “agree” with. We know which people we can talk with and which we can’t, and know which topics to avoid altogether. We rarely read anything that is dramatically different from our own perspective on life.

We even tend to drive by the same routes to the same places over and over again!

To live isolated lives is incompatible with Christian teaching. Jesus is the ultimate barrier buster (as I've mentioned before) and those of us who follow him are supposed to be the same. Rather than exist in our familiar bubbles, fearful of and reticent to encounter anything outside of our own comfortable echo chambers, Jesus asks his followers to lovingly eliminate the barriers we so expertly place among ourselves.

Simply put, one cannot follow Jesus by “looking down.” We need to look up, look out, make eye contact, be aware of one another, truly see each other. And who knows, maybe we’ll see something new, maybe we’ll learn something, and maybe we’ll make a new friend or two in the process!

If the religion you practice allows you to “look down” on another, I don’t know what it is but it is not Christianity. If the teacher you follow is making you feel superior to another person or another group of people, I don’t know who it is but it is clearly not Jesus. If the group of people you belong to is comprised only of people who are exactly like you in every way, I don’t know what it is but it is definitely not the church.

Reclaim the Rules: God's Priorities (Post 3 of 3)

I am not naive. Thus, I don’t think fixing the world’s problems is an easy peasy “Reclaim the Rules” and voila! ...everybody’s happy. But I do believe that focusing on the “General Rules” of Methodism would help the church remember what is important and renew a commitment to God’s priorities, rather than our own.

In that vein, it is interesting to note that the most read post in this series of posts (by FAR) was Post 1.5 which mentioned Donald Trump’s visit to Springfield and asked if a Christian would be following the General Rules by protesting. (Whose priorities, now?) Post 1 and Post 2 were apparently far too non-controversial for a whole lot of people to read, it seems. (Not discounting that they may have just been boring, poorly written, and nobody liked them, of course.)

Where is our focus? Where are our priorities? Where are God's priorities? How can we align our priorities with God's? How is it possible for us to (first) do no harm and (second) do good in the world when everything seems so messed up, so topsy-turvy?

Well, that is where Rule #3 comes in. In Wesleyan language, that rule says we are to continue to evidence our desire of salvation by “attending upon all the ordinances of God.” … pause for effect … Yeah, right. What the heck does that mean?

It isn’t as complicated as it sounds. Ordinances are “the practices that [keep] the relationship between God and humans vital, alive, and growing,” as Bishop Rueben Job puts it in “Three Simple Rules.” And it turns out that these ordinances are the basic practices of Christian discipleship - worship, prayer, Bible study, Holy Communion, fasting, and works of mercy, service, and justice.

In other words, doing the stuff that followers of Jesus have been doing since forever. Doing the stuff that churches are supposed to be doing. Simply: being church.

Bishop Job has rephrased the third rule. His wording is, “Stay in love with God.” He calls staying in love with God the “primary issue of a faithful life.”

“For from such a life of love for God will flow the goodness and love of God to the world. It can be no other way. One who is deeply in love will be constantly formed and transformed by that relationship. And such a transformed life will be a natural channel of God’s goodness, power, and presence in the world.” (p. 57-58)

Of course, it needs to be said that there are people who claim to have a wonderful relationship with God and yet are not a part of a church. The whole “I love Jesus but not the church” idea is a valid one, and shared by many. I do not begrudge anyone this approach, nor do I think it somehow “invalid.”

All I know is, I need the church in my own Christian discipleship. There’s no way I could ever follow Jesus on my own. My faith is not strong enough to attempt to follow Jesus without the church. And the “ordinances of God” are, for me, best practiced in community, where support, encouragement, and accountability can be exercised in covenant love and grace.

Worship. Prayer. Study. Service. Generosity. Hospitality. Also known as the “ordinances of God.” Also known as the practices of discipleship. You know, "stuff churches do."

And more fundamentally, they are the practices that keep a person connected to God and deepen that connection over time. At Campbell we talk about how the “pattern of discipleship” becomes more and more deeply imprinted on you as you engage its practices. And as that pattern is imprinted upon us, we are becoming more and more Christlike.

If you love a person, you want to do things with them. You have coffee, you go bowling, you go to a baseball game, you go to a concert, you sit and talk, etc. If you love God, the “things” you do together are the practices of Christian discipleship.

Reclaiming these ancient rules isn’t going to automatically make the world look just like God wants it to look. There would still be evil, injustice, and oppression in a variety of forms. People would still be prone to wander, prone to sin, prone to succumb to worldly temptations. And so it goes.

But imagine what a difference would be made if each of us committed to do our utmost to first of all do no harm and secondly do all the good we can do. And imagine if we were able to accomplish that by thirdly staying connected to and deepening our connection with our loving and gracious creator God, who calls us into relationship with the divine and with our neighbors around the world. 

Imagine if we all would sincerely try to shift our priorities so that they aligned more closely with God's. I can't help but think that would at least begin to make a dent.

"Spiritual But Not Religious"

On Thursday, April 28, 2016 at 4:45 p.m. I posted the following question on Facebook and Twitter: “What do you think it means to say, ‘I’m spiritual but not religious?’”

Fifty-one people responded, and here are their answers, which I found to be absolutely fascinating! I’m compiling them here with the thought that they need to be more widely read than just my social media feeds. There is something really, really cool happening in these responses. Give it a read, and if you have your own answer, feel free to add it in the comments.

- What do you think it means to say, “I’m spiritual but not religious?”

B.W. Freese: I think "spiritual but not religious" means no practices which connect with the holy.

Rob Barringer: I think it means, "I don't go to church."

Elizabeth Perry Wilcox: I tend to hear this from people who believe in God, but do not go to church or participate in organized religion.

Andrew Jones: I love you, but I don't want to marry you. I want all of the benefits of a relationship with God without the responsibility, accountability, or commitment.

Brad Bryan: Means, I'm neither. I'm cynical. But, in my experience, most people I have known that say this are not what I would describe as spiritual. I mean, not really.

Zak McIntyre: Trying to connect with a higher power but not yet seeing how a church fits into that.

Todd Scranton: In my experience it can mean a lot of things. Sometimes it means "I've been burned by the church, but I still have some semblance of my faith left that I'm struggling with." Sometimes it means "I've outgrown the narrow parameters of the faith I was raised with, but I haven't done the work of figuring out what I DO believe." Sometimes it means "I sometimes feel something, but I don't know what it is, and don't have anyone I trust to help me figure it out." And sometimes it means "Get away from me you pushy religious person." The thing I know it DOESN'T mean is "Please, scorn me from the position of your religious community's understanding and treat me like some kind of immature slacker."

June Clark: I have wrestled with this question. As best I can decipher it, this means that the person believes in a higher power of some kind but is not sure how that looks.

Valerie Kistler Miller: A belief in God but not the church as a collective entity.

Susan March: Unsure of what "God" means but still possibly open to seeking. Religion represents 'judgement', so definitely not religious!

Emily Stirewalt: Hurt by organized religion.

Michael Stanfield: It is a statement made by people who feel the pull of God, but are frightened by "Church". Christians, as a collective body, tend treat others as morally inferior. While professing faith in Jesus (a Man who spent his entire ministry preaching tolerance and understanding and dining with prostitutes and lepers) they support agendas that create division, oppression and fear. Christians, as a collective body, tend to be wildly hypocritical and some of the least tolerant humans on the planet. Your statement allows them to say they feel God without having to put that "label" of religion on themselves. Watching how a lot of "Christians" act, I can't blame them.

Bob Maffitt: I think it often means I am afraid to totally deny that God exists, but I do not want to commit my time or money to supporting a church, helping others or learning about Biblical concerns that may be contrary to how I want to live life my life. Just some thoughts.
            Linda Lightner Hobbs: Bob, I think you hit the nail on the head so to speak.

Seth Dylan Hunt: Spiritual is what you own and religion is the construct under which you practice or speech on spirit. That's always been my take.

Owen Smith: Believing in God, but not feeling welcome or comfortable with any local congregation/gathering they know of. May be a cop-out to being active or committed to serve or even attend a church.

Bob Edwards: Not sure. I hope it means that they pray but sometimes spiritual people are not believers.

Mark Hansche: I think it means that they sense the Divine spark that is in all of us, but they have no foundation on which to allow the Holy Spirit to turn that spark into a flame. They're drifting.

Cindy K Day Hauk: I believe when someone says they are spiritual but not religious is they may lack the personal relationship with Christ and His followers.

Joan Cotton DeBoe: Belief in a higher power but uninterested in "being subject to" an organization that expects a particular response.

John Hampton Jr.: I hear "I don't trust the church". Many I've spoken to (so this is just anecdotal) share in their assertion of spiritual, not religious an almost agnostic approach to God; but they share a feeling that the church is corrupt. They'd rather go through life finding God than have some church tell them who God is. I wish I had a better way of telling them that at least we in the UMC are doing the same thing they are.

Dorothy Drago Brucks: They like to hummmmm.

Nathan Cornelius” That is someone whom the church as a business has "turned off"

Ben Mulford: I'm surprised no one has said it means "I'm okay with burning in hell." Not that I think that, but I could imagine a deeply "religious" person responding that way.

Doug Cannon: I think being spiritual, but not religious, is becoming commonplace. Many people have been spiritually abused in a church, and don't want to be a part of a large group on Sunday morning. These people have a connection with God in their hearts, but don't feel the need to share that connection with others.  As stated before, many are turned off by some church they've visited. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was what the pastor said. Maybe it was not being made welcome when they walked in. People who have experienced this have chosen to worship their God in different ways. I think this is becoming more & more the norm. "Church" can mean many things. I've had church alone on a forest. I've had church with 5000 others.

Chris Snyder: I don't know but there are days I worry I am religious and spiritual.

Niki Parrish Scott: I think it means someone has been hurt in some way & may be afraid of being hurt further by a "structure" that should actually be doing the opposite.
I fear we underestimate it as a cop out or whatever you'd like to call it. I'd like to see a way to communicate without "the church" becoming defensive.

Joy Perry: I have always thought that it was a comment made by someone who has been hurt by the church or who is fed up with the politics of the church. Another possibility is someone who has seen too many hypocrites there. They believe in God, but don't feel they need organized religion.
            June DeWeese: I agree totally with what Joy wrote. That would be the case with the person whom I know. Except where she wrote " or" I would write "and"......

John Schmalzbauer: Agree with much of what has been said. People hurt by "organized religion" and disaffected with congregations. I think there is also an element of American individualism. Jefferson said "I am my own sect." Saying you're spiritual but not religious is analogous to being political without voting. Many studies show Americans are disaffected with institutions, including the church, the government, business, and the news media. A lot of this is because institutions have let us down.

Megan Hammer Lucy: I agree with all the above, but would also say that while sometimes people are turned off by being treated poorly by church goers but still like the ideas of Christianity, that sometimes it can be the other way around, too. People can be turned off by things like the way the Bible talks about women, or the way church doctrine addresses LGBT people but still feel connected and loved by Christians in a way that makes them feel spiritually connected to the community. At least that's the way I feel sometimes. I find myself frustrated by the "written policies" of the church and even the Bible sometimes, by the goodness and love of God's people draws me back.

Kathryn Smith: And there are those who say they can be closer to God on the golf course or on lake.

Wyn Andrews: I think it's indicative of someone who has been hurt by church. I used to say this about myself. Religion has been deeply problematic throughout human history, and it's not unreasonable to want to separate oneself from that. Of course, as a regular church goer (I used to say that even though I went to church every week. I still do.) I believe in the positives that an open and affirming congregation can offer to members, local communities, and the world. But, I don't think it's helpful to criticize this statement - not that you are, Andy, but I've seen some troubling comments here that, in my experience, will keep people from wanting to embrace going to church.

Dan Bohannon: The "religious" follow rules and people and are usually are viewed as less tolerant of other "religions" or people who follow a different path. The "spiritual" follow a perception of a "higher power" or their own bliss or something, anything they feel doesn't put them in the religious category. They may feel they are less judgmental and more tolerant than their religious friends.

Margie Lutjen Briggs: I think of religious people as Bible thumpers, the rules and regulations, flowing robe kind of people. Spiritual people are deep in faith and trusting with their walk. I guess I feel that being religious one must talk about the rules and see to it everyone follows them like they believe they should be followed. The kind that would use the Bible as weapon. A person who is spiritual tries their best to be full of love and grace.

Julia Essman: I don't know if it's been stated but I know one person I talked to recently said that their definition of their spirituality was listening to the feeling that come to them and in general letting fate take its course type of a thing. The way they described it sounded along the lines of agnostic, but with "following the path that is put before them" thrown in... I don't have a personal definition of "spiritual not religious" because I don't know enough about it. That's just from the conversation I had recently.

Maureen Glynn McNeil: I think it's a copout.

Thomas T. Sanders: Not much. I mean, it doesn't seem to me to be a statement which intends to communicate much, but more likely block or cut off communication about the subject.

Patsy Rhodes: I've been told I answer certain questions the way I do because I'm Spiritual. But to me, I say I'm Spiritual because of experiences I've had and visions I've seen. That's probably not what’s the correct way to describe a Spiritual person, but who is to determine what's correct and what's not.

Andrea Young: This has been a very good question. To me it could be like the chicken and the egg. I feel the spirit of God within me but yet I am not versed well in the religious teachings of the bible. I cannot quote scriptures and I don't know which testament is which sometimes. I cry every time I pray because I am so moved by the spirit of God. Someone might ask how can I know God if I do not know the bible? Which came first, Spirit or Religion? I only know what I feel
            Whispering Pine: So, Andrea, what holds you back from studying more and exploring that which is moving in you? Why not seek understanding and wisdom?
            Patsy Rhodes: Andrea, I understand and respect you for what you so eloquently Posted. You spoke for me too. No one can believe in and love God, Jesus and The Spirit more than me, and I am not well versed, as you stated, in the Bible. I had tears when I read how you cry every time you pray. I know and believe in them because I survived and experienced them and their love in real life.

Hector Eduardo Bousson: "I'm confused but I want to sound smart while saying it."

Chris Mixson: Spiritual= Individual / Religious=Part of something bigger than me.

Terry Hammer: There is a mindset which allows a person to believe they can live a Godly life without actually engaging with other people and the broken world. It is a very alluring proposition-much safer and less messy, but it is also a false premise. What if Christ had not engaged with the world?

Marti Fort: I have wondered that many times. Maybe they don't think they fit in to the church establishment.

Bo Tucker: God is moving you to take action outside the walls of the church.

Debby Peebles: My sister - you practice yoga, you read spiritual books, but you don't go to church unless maybe the yoga class is there

Pat Barker Auston: I believe it is possible to be both spiritual and religious. Spiritual - feeling within self, religious - going to a church and becoming an active member of that religion. So can you be religious and not spiritual? Yes, but missing one of the most important parts of religion, spirituality . Can you be spiritual and not religious? Yes, but missing fellowship.

Sonseeahray Hodge: A "personal walk with God" is just that. Personal. You don't have to be hurt by a church community, or follow a daily doctrine to have that relationship. When someone says that they are spiritual, it means that they have not found a church community that regularly adheres to values that they believe reflect their vision of what God wants. People within church communities don't realize that they truly speak another language, "church talk" that is very isolating and at times even appears ridiculous to people that are not within that community. When those outside the church community see this language, the hierarchy of members and see church members failing to follow their own doctrine...they ask themselves why would they want to be a part of that and why would they need that in their personal relationship with God? Religion is a practice, if that practice does not entirely reflect your spiritual belief then you do not need to be a part of it.

Lawrence Kyle Hern: I think it means that God's location has changed.

Ashley Hicks: I am actually one of those people. I'm sure the definition is different for each of us so I will only speak for myself. I believe in God, I pray, I was raised in the church which was a wonderful experience and shaped who I am as a person. That being said, my personal beliefs as I've grown don't really fit into one specific religion so I don't feel right identifying with one. Many of my beliefs overlap with a variety of religions so I tell people I'm spiritual because I guess I don't really know how to define it. Life = love for me.

Should Christians "Be Political?"

As a part of my sermon yesterday, I posed the question - Should Christians “be political?”

My response - It depends on how you define “be political.”

If you mean get involved with the endless campaigning, the negativity, the bitterness, the fear and anger, the nonsense of what passes for the political process in our nation today, then my answer is, “That’s up to you.” As for me, I’m not going to. It’s a joke. It’s a farce. It’s a side show.

And it’s not what I mean by “be political.”

What I mean by “political” is more aligned with what the word may have originally meant. Something like “the way people interact in the world,” including organizing power and authority in a community, making community decisions, and deciding what kinds of behavioral boundaries define a community. Now, this may not be what “politics” means these days, but I think still at the heart of it, that’s really what it’s about.

And so it seems to me, if this is how we define “political,” then how in the world can a follower of Jesus NOT “be political?” It seems to me that followers of Jesus ought to be very, very concerned with the way people interact in the world. Of course we should be political.

Of course, it is completely inappropriate (on several levels) for a church to give any kind of official endorsement to any one candidate or any one political party. And I as a pastor would never think of telling anyone how they should vote when it comes time to do so. That’s out of bounds, as far as I’m concerned.

A follower of Jesus has decided to give his or her life to something that transcends the self, seeking first the Kingdom of God, and God’s righteousness. That means re-ordering one’s priorities so that they align with God’s.

God’s priorities are revealed in Scripture, which people are able to access through the interpretive lenses of tradition, reason, and experience. God’s priorities are things like … love. And hope. Peace, justice, salvation, grace. All of which Jesus himself embodied in his life, teaching, death, and resurrection.

Why should we “be political?” Because if we truly have adopted God’s priorities as our own, we cannot help but notice that much in this world, including much in our own lives, is not aligned with God’s priorities. There is a great deal that is not as God intends it to be. For the follower of Jesus, the gap between “things as they are” and “things as God wants them to be” demands to be closed.

Why should Christians care about violence in the world? Because one of God’s priorities is peace.

Why should we care about prejudice, discrimination, and oppression? Because one of God’s priorities is justice.

Why should we care about racism, homophobia, sexism, classism, hatred, fear of the “other?” Because one of God’s priorities is love.

Some will say, “Well, all I can do is take care of myself, make sure my own decisions are right, be as good a person as I can. All I am in control of is myself, and there’s just too much in this world that is out of my control to worry about.” That’s fine. All well and good. Nothing wrong with that. It just isn’t Christian discipleship. To borrow a phrase from Jesus, “Even the Gentiles” think this way.

When you decide to follow Jesus, you are deciding to give your life away to a cause bigger than yourself, the cause of Christ. The Kingdom of God is the goal; Christ is the cause; and the Holy Spirit empowers every step of the journey from here to there.

Take for example, a “political” issue like regulation of predatory lenders. Payday loan companies, title loans, and so forth charge unjust interest rates, engage in deceptive and unethical sales practices, and make their profits by deepening the cycle of poverty, often at the expense of people’s health, families, and even lives.

Christians all around the nation are organizing politically to thwart the predatory lending industry. And why? Because one of God’s priorities is justice. I do not support the political actions to combat predatory lending because predatory lending is my “cause.” I support political action to combat it because my cause is Christ - I follow Jesus, and because I do I have tried to make God’s priorities my own.

This is one example of one "political" issue I could cite. There are many, many more.

The teachings of Jesus are jarring sometimes. Give to everyone who asks. Turn the other cheek. Love your enemies. Do not judge other people. Each of these ideas of Jesus is very political in that they deal with how people are to interact, and honestly they are very challenging. There’s nothing comfortable about any of them.

It’s one thing to do these things on a personal level. It’s another to work with the systems and processes that make them happen more broadly. One is no better or worse than the other. Both the personal actions and the systemic work can be a part of faithful Christian discipleship. It really isn’t an either-or proposition.

So, should Christians be political? I guess I’m saying, if you're a Christian, you pretty much can’t help it.

The Inklings

I just got done reading “Mere Christianity” by C.S. Lewis. Not really noteworthy, except for the way in which I read it. Instead of reading on my own, I read with a small group of people.

Every week since early September, on Sunday evenings at 5:30, seven or eight of us gathered in a room here at the church and read aloud, stopping every page or so to ask questions, offer insights, and process what we were reading. We had a wonderful experience; we called ourselves “The Inklings” in honor of the discussion group Lewis was a part of at Oxford in the 1930s and 40s.

I would definitely recommend this process to anyone who has ever wanted to read a weighty theological book, but couldn’t find the motivation, or was a bit intimidated, or just didn’t know exactly where to begin.

Here are a few of the things I learned in the process:

- There was no curriculum other than what came out of our own minds in the moment. That made for some fantastic conversation and some energetic back-and-forth of ideas. It also led to some very interesting, albeit tangential, conversations about all kinds of things from cabbage to terrorism to amusing English idioms. Since we were not restricted by a curriculum, we were free to take the conversation where it wanted to go naturally, although always returning to the book itself to move things along.

- We took turns reading aloud, which gave us the opportunity to hear several different voices. It is fascinating to learn about who somebody is by listening to them read aloud. Tone of voice, inflection, syllabic emphasis choices – each reader brings their own personality to the task of reading, and in so doing offers a bit of themselves to the group. And to hear words read aloud as you are reading them yourself deepens the impact of their meaning.

- It is so fun to hear how others react when an idea strikes their fancy. There were many times that another person’s reaction to a particular thought was more significant than my own, which always made me pause to ask them what had been so meaningful to them. Comments were made as the reader went along – “Oh I like that!” “That’s a good one!” or even just “Wow!” And there were definitely moments when the entire group all reacted at the same time, and it was really exciting to be a part of the synergy of thought.

- One of the most interesting parts of the process was the way in which members of the group made connections to “real life” experiences. The Syrian refugee crisis was an ongoing story this fall, and often came up in our conversations. We talked about Pope Francis, presidential candidates, racial issues on campus, war in the middle east, and gun violence, among other things. Often the connections that others made were not necessarily ones I would have made myself, which was sometimes puzzling but always illuminating.

So now we are going to take a break, but decided last night to pick up another book in the new year. We chose “The Cost of Discipleship” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Yep. We’re going for it! As one said last night, “I’ve always wanted to read it, but never would have on my own. The only way I would read it is with a group, so I’m in!

I truly think that people long to “go deep” spiritually, to spend time wrestling with heavy thoughts, thoughts that are worth thinking, and we’re much more likely to do that together than alone. So pick a book, get some people together, and start reading. It’s easy. You can start your own “Inklings” right where you are!

"Lacking in Nothing"

“Mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” - This is how the book of James describes a person who has endured life’s trials, and with faith come through them with a new understanding and perspective.

I love that phrase as a definition of a “mature” person: “lacking in nothing.” Maturity has very little to do with how old you are. And “spiritual” maturity has very little to do with how long you may have been a Christian.

Spiritual maturity has everything to do with realizing that in God you have what you need, that you are indeed lacking in nothing. It may require us to adjust our definitions of “need” and “want,” however. And perhaps this is where our youngest sisters and brothers can teach us.

One rainy night years ago, driving home in the dark, in the rain, with the family in the mini-van with me, I realized that every kid was sound asleep. They were not in the least bit anxious about slick roads or poor visibility or the possibility of an accident. I felt the burden of their trust heavily upon my shoulders, and I got them home safely.

And that moment taught me a little bit about what I need versus what I want. That my kids could sleep meant that they had what they needed in that moment, regardless of anything else. And significantly, it wasn’t a sparkly toy or flashy gadget that allowed them that rest, it was their trust. In that moment, they lacked in nothing.

Sometimes it feels like life is just an endless campaign. We are always seeking the next thing, the newer thing, the nicer thing, the more expensive thing. It seems we are rarely content with what we have, and always pushing for more. I believe this to be a profoundly immature worldview.

Rather, “speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ,” and understand that in Christ we have enough. Spiritual maturity is the assurance of wholeness, security in the promises of God that we know in Jesus and are illuminated by the Holy Spirit.

Christian Discipleship as Amoeba Tag

Do you remember playing “tag” as a kid? One person started out as the one who was “IT” and then ran around the playground trying to touch another kid, who then became “IT” and it was their turn (NO TAG-BACKS!).

A variation of the game is called “Amoeba Tag.” In this version, two people are “IT” and they join hands. Each person they tag joins on to the “Amoeba” by linking hands with the end person. When there is an even number of people linked together, the “Amoeba” can split in two if it wants. And you keep tagging people until everyone is tagged.

When Jesus said to his disciples, “You are witnesses of these things” (Luke 24), he was basically tagging them. He might as well have said to them, “Now, you’re ‘IT!’”

Christian discipleship is more like “Amoeba Tag” than traditional tag. We reach out to others not to relinquish evangelistic responsibility to them, but rather to join together with them in the task of sharing the good news. Linked together as the church, we work together in a coordinated effort to reach out to others.

There’s another aspect of the game that the church might think about embracing: It’s supposed to be fun! This isn’t a competition. This isn’t a military campaign. This isn’t a numbers-driven business venture. This is the church!

The church is a joyous community of grace and love, so filled with the power of the Holy Spirit that it overflows in everything we say and do. If we can’t have a bit of fun while we’re sharing this good news, then how good can the news really be?

So let’s play tag, church. We are “IT,” so let’s join hands and run around the field laughing our butts off and reaching out to the other kids running around all over the place. Let’s have some fun!

Knowing Jesus

When Jesus asked Peter, “Who do say that I am?” Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.”

Peter “got it!” He knew Jesus well, and knew who he was. Peter identified Jesus as the Messiah before anyone else did, and what’s more he said it out loud. He claimed it boldly, and Jesus responded to him with words of blessing.

Immediately after this incident, Jesus told his disciples the plan. He would go to Jerusalem, undergo great suffering, and be killed. And Peter replied, “God forbid! Surely there’s another way we could do this, Lord?”

Peter “didn’t get it.” He knew Jesus, but he didn’t see the full picture, much less concur with the plan. Peter couldn’t abide the thought of Jesus suffering and being killed. He voiced his opposition, and Jesus responded again.

But these were not words of blessing; this was a curse. “Get behind me! You are Satan! You are a stumbling block to me!”

Whoa - harsh.

What happened there? How did Peter get is so right one moment and so very wrong the next? How could Peter have understood so much about Jesus and yet at the very same time understood so very little about him?

The truth is, there are times you and I get it right, too. There are times that God seems very close to us and following Jesus is energizing and joyful. And there are times we fail. We can’t find God anywhere and it feels as if we’ve forgotten all we’ve ever known about Jesus and what it means to follow him.

We are Peter. Knowing Jesus doesn’t mean we are perfect, it just means we know Jesus. And that’s a pretty good deal, because knowing Jesus means we don’t HAVE to be perfect to be forgiven, to be blessed. Knowing Jesus means we do not have to be perfect to be loved.

"Should" vs. "Want To" (And Blatant Pastoral Narcissism)

Focus less on convincing people that they should …
           … and more on equipping the people that already want to.

I’ve been contemplating this idea all week long. It seems like everything I do is geared toward convincing, cajoling, urging people to practice the pattern of discipleship – you know: weekly worship, small group study, proportional giving, selfless service, and radical hospitality – and it gets tedious. Worse, it feels empty.

It feels empty because I obsess over the people who don’t seem to get it, rather than celebrate the people who do. And I need to stop that. It puts me in a dark and scary place where I begin to doubt a whole lot of stuff about my vocation, and I’d rather not be there.

And the truth is, there are an abundance of people who “get it” when it comes to being a follower of Jesus, people who need no convincing. I feel so much more energized, focused, and happy when I get to hang out with people like that, hear them talk about God and church and discipleship and what following Jesus means to them. It is joyful and filled with grace and the power of the Holy Spirit.

And yet …

I have read several articles and books lately that describe how the church is being confronted with issues like:
- sporadic rather than weekly worship,
- small groups as cliques or clubs rather than true growth in grace and knowledge of God,
- giving when it’s convenient rather than proportionally to one’s income,
- being “nice” to others rather than engaging in selfless service, and
- staying home when you have house guests rather than actually inviting a stranger to church.

Now it sounds like I’m just griping. And I don’t want to be “that pastor.” But I need to be honest. It just takes so much energy to move people from being a good-person-who-goes-to-church-every-so-often to actually becoming an authentic disciple of Jesus Christ.

So I was thinking maybe I need to take a break from trying to convince people that they should, and focus more on equipping the people that already want to. Encouraging, cheering, thanking.

Like for example, last night there were eight people in Bible Study, and there are usually more than twice that number. My initial reaction was one of disappointment at the low attendance. But you know what? The discussion at that Bible Study was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had all week. Why? Because of the "want to."

And what does it say about my own theology when I think it is up to me to convince people that they should follow Jesus? How narcissistic is that? What would happen if I actually allowed the Holy Spirit to convince, cajole, and convict?

And what if I then saw my role simply as the one who would meet them in the midst of their life and help them follow that conviction?

I suppose what I’m getting at is that I’m tired of trying to generate the conviction in people and being met with a resounding “meh.” And there are so, so many people who have already felt that conviction and are actively following it – and so yeah, that’s the people I want to be with.

In the Gospels, three different groups are described. In short, these groups are the “Scribes and Pharisees,” the “crowd,” and the “disciples.” The “S & P” group is openly antagonistic toward Jesus. The “disciples” have transformed their lives to follow Jesus.

But the “crowd” is that large and mostly anonymous group that’s hanging out and listening to what he has to say, watching what he’s doing, enjoying some bread and fish with 5,000 of their closest friends, but haven’t made the commitment that the disciples have to actually follow him wherever he goes.

It has been my pattern to focus mostly on people in the “crowd” and move them into the “disciples” group. But just lately I’m feeling God nudge me to spend less energy there and more time and energy with the disciples. And in particular, with disciples who have found the church to be … well … let’s just say “lacking” when it comes to discipleship opportunities.

I believe that I am called in particular to serve people who have felt the Holy Spirit’s conviction to follow Jesus but cannot find a way to pursue that conviction in the life of the church.

In other words, focus less on convincing people that they should and more on equipping the people that already want to.

Your Calendar - Your Budget - Your Faith?

For my Christian friends:

If a stranger saw your calendar and your budget, would they be able to tell that you were a Christian?

I know you are busy, and you keep track of your days from morning to night. I know that you have a planner, or an online calendar, something on your smart phone you can pull up anywhere, any time.

Just curious, is the word “worship” on that calendar anywhere?

In all the hours that you have planned out for yourself and perhaps your family over the course of the week, is one of those hours intentionally set aside to gather together with others to worship God? Just one?

I know you are busy, you travel, you have to be places for work, for the team, for fun. Now, I might be underestimating here, but I’ll bet you they have churches in those places where you have to be. So pick one, find out when they worship, and go.

And by the way, have you scheduled in a time for daily prayer?

In all of the minutes you have so carefully strung together, are maybe five of them designated for “prayer” every day? That calendar on your phone has a notification function, doesn’t it? You could set it to notify you every day, “It is time to pray.” Your attention is drawn from this to that with whiplash intensity all day long. When is your attention drawn completely to God? When do you simply pray? Not “while I’m driving” or “while I’m exercising” … just praying.

And you know, I’ll bet that your calendar has on it a meeting or two that is intended to make you better at something you do: a staff meeting, an in-service, a training event, a conference, something like that.

But is there a meeting on your calendar intended to make you better at following Christ? Sunday school or Bible study or small group or something like that? I know that you are not content to just maintain your current skill level when it comes to your work or your sport or your hobby; why in the world would you be satisfied merely maintaining your current spiritual “skill set,” then? Does your calendar include your spiritual growth?

And if that stranger were to pick up your budget, what would they see there? I know that you keep a budget; you are careful and faithful with your resources, you want to be responsible. Is “Tithe” on the first line of your budgeted expenses? You know, the “first fruits” of each harvest, that initial 10% from every pay period that Scripture says we are to give to God.

Or is your generosity more of a sporadic “when I think about it I’ll drop a twenty or two in the plate” kind of giving? Putting it in your budget, and putting it first, gives your generosity the intentionality and purpose that is asked of Christian disciples.  

And then, on top of that, would that stranger see in your budget resources that you intend to share with those who are in need? Have you budgeted so that you can offer help when help is needed? Have you budgeted so that you can respond with abundance when disaster strikes? Have you budgeted so that you can serve “the least of these” in a way that is faithful to the Christian call? Does your budget empower you to follow Jesus?

Our time and our money are two of our most precious resources, and we are wise to track these resources carefully with calendar and budget. As such, these ought to reflect our priorities, revealing what is truly important to us. One might say, they reveal who we are.

Who would a stranger think you were, based on your calendar and your budget? Would they think you had even heard of Jesus, let alone profess to follow him as Lord and Savior?

If a complete stranger saw your calendar and your budget, would they know you were a Christian?

A Grace Embassy

I have frequently heard people say, “I love Jesus, but I don’t need the church.” It is a trendy notion these days. A video titled “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus” was posted in January 2012; it has over 25 million views and people still leave numerous (mostly rude) comments every day.

It is illuminating that a response video titled “Why I Love Religion, And Love Jesus” has a mere 760,000 views. Clearly not quite as virally popular as the original. (Although this video also has similarly rude comments being posted daily.)

To tell you the truth, I often sympathize with the Pro-Jesus / Anti-Church point of view. Many times the one who holds such a view has been hurt, ostracized, judged, or otherwise treated quite poorly by someone in the church. This genuinely painful experience is then projected onto “the church” as a whole.

At the same time, I know that there are people who use the idea as a rationalization to perpetuate their own comfortable lives. Often the one who does so will use terms like “irrelevant” and “old-fashioned” to describe church. Following Jesus is relegated to a consumer-driven search for what works for me, what fits into my calendar, and what’s the latest fad being shared on pinterest.

In the first chapter of John, Jesus calls Andrew whose immediate response is to go and invite Simon to follow him, as well. Jesus then calls Philip, who immediately goes to Nathanael and invites him along, too. It seems to me that “the church” started forming pretty quickly after Jesus started calling. Maybe there’s something to the notion that Jesus didn’t really intend for us to try to follow him all on our own.

It is when the church forgets that we are supposed to be helping people follow Jesus and becomes something else - ANYTHING else - that we get into trouble. The church is neither a self-help group, a community action agency, a social club, nor a status symbol. And I would add, the church is not a disciple making factory, as many seem to think.

The church is the embassy of God’s grace in the world, and members of the church are Christ’s ambassadors. The church doesn’t have a mission; God has a mission. And it is for the sake of that mission that we are the church.

Be Extraordinary

The tag line for our current worship series is “Ordinary People - Extraordinary Lives.” The idea is that God calls and equips ordinary people like you and me to be extraordinary for God’s sake.

Sometimes I’m afraid the church sells itself short. We tend to let our ordinariness rule the day, and settle for “just fine” when God is really calling us to “amazing.” God operates in the cosmos of miracle and eternity and omnipotent, and much of the time we’re stuck in the muck of relevant and popular and trendy.

Imagine Mary, in all her ordinariness, called by God to give birth to the Son of the Most High, who would be great and inherit the throne of King David, ruling over a never ending kingdom … and what might have happened had her response been, “No thanks. Joseph and I are just fine here in Nazareth.”

The truth is, they were just fine. And they would have been just fine had God not called her to be the mother of Jesus. They would have remained just fine their whole lives, and even been quite comfortably content with Joseph carving and building, having a family, raising their kids.

To hear Christ’s call is to understand that there is more to life than “just fine.” To be a part of the church means you have a deep desire to be extraordinary, to connect to a power that is immense, to be a part of something that is bigger than you alone.

The paradox is, the church is extraordinary precisely in its inherent ordinariness. We are Mary, an ordinary young woman called to participate in a miracle. It is daunting. It is scary. It is humbling.

And yet it is who we are called to be. It is the church. Just us ordinary people, called to live extraordinary lives.

Reframe it with Resurrection

“Kids are leaving!”

“Change or die!”

“The church is doooomed!”

It has become quite trendy in the church to make sweeping pronouncements such as these. Consultants, coaches, superintendents, bloggers, experts of various levels of expertise, and so on - all seem to be chipping in these days about how awful the situation is, and getting worse every moment.

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you’ve probably read something I have written on this topic. I find myself a bit outside of the mainstream when it comes to questions of the church’s imminent demise. I’m not inclined to hand-wringing and navel-gazing. Instead, I find myself inclined toward resurrection.

It is from that perspective that I read the piece that made its way around the interwebs last week. It was called “Why Millenials areLeaving the Church,” written by Rachel Held Evans.

I almost always like reading what Rachel Held Evans has to say. She writes a lot, and I haven’t read everything she’s written, but what I have read I like. But I will admit that I definitely cringed when I saw the title to her recent post on CNN.com. “Why Millennials are Leaving the Church” is a title that sets the stage for another hand-wringing, navel-gazing lament.

At first, I was upset with the generalization that an entire generation of people has a rather uniform critique of religion that the church was struggling to hear and understand. Been there, heard that. At first, it was just more of the navel-gazing same. But then I realized that this was clearly not just another “Change or Die” piece written by a church insider.

“We long for Jesus,” she said. “Like every generation before ours and every generation after, we long for Jesus.”

Evans’ short (and easy to read - I hope you do) piece is a call for substance, for meaning, for theology. It is a call to rid ourselves of obsession over superficial style and moralistic sermonizing and reclaim the depth, the complexity, the challenge of truly following Jesus.

Yes! Yes, please, and more of it.

Now … Can we please not frame that in “I-told-you-so” language? Can we please not write hand-wringing headlines for pieces with such life-affirming truth? Could we please re-do the prelude to this service so that it doesn’t set such a negative tone for the proclamation of the Good News?

The church does not need to change because we are dying.

Rather, the church is changing because God is at work in the world.

The choice that faces church leadership is not whether to change or not. The choice that faces church leadership is how exactly we will cooperate with the vast and transformative changes that clearly are taking place. These changes, I believe, are no less than a great resurrection movement of the Holy Spirit.

Much of that movement seems to be taking place outside of the outdated structures of the church. It’s happening over in the garden while the disciples are sitting in a locked room, wringing our hands and worrying. However, many, many churches are responding to that new movement in exciting and creative ways, and that’s where I believe church leaders need to place our focus.

No need to wring hands, no need to lament, no need to get all worried! God is doing a powerful, wonderful, brand new thing. A healthy doctrine of resurrection will convince you of that.

Come on, church. Let’s go out to the garden with Mary and see what God’s up to these days.

Lay Down Your Life

First he told them; then he showed them.

First Jesus said to his disciples, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Then he went and did it. “In case any of you were wondering what exactly I meant by that - here, I’ll show you.”

As difficult as that may be to wrap your mind around … that Jesus freely gave his own life for us … consider the fact that his radical definition of love immediately follows his command that his followers are to love one another in the same way.

“Love one another as I have loved you,” he says, “and in case you were wondering exactly how I love you - here, I’ll show you.”

Here, I’ll show you.

And then he did it. He laid his life down, quite literally. Knowing that his words would seem hollow without action to bring them to life, he chose a path that led directly, unavoidably toward his own death.

How much of the time is our decision to follow Jesus expressed in hollow and meaningless words, lacking the action to back them up?

What is Jesus asking us to do? How do I “lay down my life” for somebody else in 2013 in Springfield, Missouri? I mean, I’m a pretty nice guy. I’m friendly. I hold the door open for people. I volunteer at my kids’ school. Is that it? Is that what Jesus meant?

“[Costly grace] is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life,” wrote Dietrich Bonhoeffer in The Cost of Discipleship. I wonder; has my discipleship cost me my very life?

Jesus said, “Here, I’ll show you.” And he went and did it. He died.

What does it mean for us, here and now, who are commanded to do the same?

Yes, You May Move The Table

Last Sunday morning, one of the tables in Fellowship Hall was about ten feet out of place. Before worship as I walked by, I heard the people sitting at the table talking about it. They weren’t really griping, just having a good time. “Somebody moved our table!” they moaned.

In that “hardee har har” style of Sunday morning conversation that happens so often, they were discussing the possible reasons their table may have been moved, who may have moved it, and the inconvenience caused by the mysterious shifting furniture.

I couldn’t stop myself from chiming in, “You know, you could just sit there and complain about it; or you could hush up and move it back!”

It was light hearted and all in good fun, but I’ve been thinking about it for the past couple of days, and it has become something of a metaphor. I wonder: how often do people in the church think they need someone’s explicit permission to “move the table?” And moreover, how often do people in the church sit there and complain about the fact that “the table has been moved” instead of just getting up and moving it back? Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Once I was talking with the evangelism team of one of the churches I have served. I told them that I’d like to hear some ideas from them about ways they could equip the congregation to reach out into the community. “Like what?” they asked. I suggested something simple and common, like printing business-type cards for people to hand out to others.

There was a dramatic pause. And then the response, “We can DO that?”

Yes, church. You can do that. Move the table. Print the cards. Share the love. Do the stuff the church does. You do not need explicit permission to do the stuff that you should be doing anyway.

Occasionally I have noticed Communion servers standing there in the front after their section has all been served, and I’d swear they are looking directly at that person sitting in the wheelchair waiting for the bread and juice, but they absolutely will not go serve them until someone says specifically, “Will you please go serve them?” They know the person needs to be served, and they know that it is their job to serve them, but they need it stated explicitly. They need to be given permission.

Now, I understand where that comes from, to a point. People mostly like to know what the rules are, and mostly like to follow them. People don’t like to think they are doing something “wrong.” And so we can overcompensate, and not do anything at all. And then complain about how nothing is being done.

On the other hand, it is an absolutely JOY to see people who are doing church with focus, energy, and a sense of calling. Such people do not need the pastor to give them permission to do something, because the mission of the church has already given them permission. When ecclesiology shifts from maintenance of institutional structure to the people on God’s mission, it is a thing of beauty to behold. The Holy Spirit has given them the vision and energy, and the church itself has equipped them to engage in ministry that is powerful, fruitful, and meaningful.

There’s nothing a pastor likes more than to stand up and cheer for the church being the church. If you are a pastor who is doing it right, you discover things being done by your congregation rather than having to initiate everything yourself. What I would love is for every single person in the church to know with certainty that, if it supports the mission of the church, they have permission to do it. I would much rather have to help people dial it back a bit instead of having to crank it up in the first place, you know what I mean?

Think about the guys in Luke 5 who brought their paralyzed friend to Jesus for healing. Finding the doorway blocked with a crowd of people, they carried him up onto the roof and lowered him down through the ceiling, right in the middle of the crowd.

Notice, they did not ask anyone’s permission to do so. Their “mission” was to get that guy close to Jesus, and they were going to do whatever it took to accomplish that mission, even if that meant a highly … shall we say “unconventional” approach.

I wonder, if I was their pastor, would I have cheered for those men or would I have cringed at their approach?

Standing in that crowd, craning my neck for a glimpse of Jesus, would I have thought, “What the heck are those guys doing up there? They’re probably going to get in trouble for this! I’m sure the Board of Trustees has not approved this course of action!”

Or maybe, “Crud, I wish I had thought of that! Now let’s see, how could I finagle it so that I get the credit for this idea?”

Or, if I was those guys’ pastor, would I have been able to cheer for them, encouraging their commitment to the mission, affirming their unwavering focus on their friend’s need, and highlighting them so that others in the congregation would be edified by their example?

I want to be a pastor who doesn’t have to say, “Yes, church you may ‘move the table.’” Every single time. Just go ahead! You may. A thousand times you may.

Church, you have permission to be the church, and let me tell you, it doesn’t come from me.