A "Third Option" for the Future of the Church

Sunday I talked about how Campbell UMC might experience a vision for the future here in Springfield, Missouri. To clarify the vision, I had to speak in generalities, and generally speaking I avoid generalities. But for the sake of clarity and definition, I hope you will forgive me, if not in general then just this once!

Generally speaking, there is a perception in Springfield that there are only two options in choosing churches. The first I will call “evangelical.” Congregations of this option are perceived as large churches with relatively newer and fancier facilities. They are perceived as younger, comprised of families with school age children. The perception is that they are conservative, and focus exclusively on one’s personal relationship with Jesus and getting into heaven when one dies.

The second perceived option I will call “social justice.” It is perceived as the alternative to “evangelical.” Congregations of this option are perceived as smaller in size with older or more basic buildings. The perception is that they are comprised of older people, retirees and empty nesters. They are perceived as liberal, and focus exclusively on helping people who need help and making the earth a better place in this lifetime.

(There may be a third option beginning to take shape in Springfield, and it may be called “emerging,” but this option is still in its infancy.)

A dynamic of these two prevailing models for congregations in Springfield is that people who associate with one tend to view the other in very generalized, stereotypical ways. The atmosphere in this community is highly polarized; there seems to be a strong either/or mentality in the Ozarks that predominates the public discourse. This trickles into the church culture as well. While the truth is far more nuanced, it seems that Christians in Springfield are labeled either an evangelical or a social justice type.

The idea that you could be both is something that would seem counterintuitive to many good and faithful Christians in this community.

However, that is precisely what I see as a viable “third option” in the Ozarks, and I believe that it is rich soil that is well tilled and ready for sowing. And, as it turns out, this “third option” for Springfield is a long-held and distinctly Methodist perspective. Of course the balance of personal and social is an important part of other traditions, also. But the founders of Methodism, John and Charles Wesley, made it a keystone of the movement they began so long ago, and that continues even now.

I have witnessed a spiritual hunger in this community for church-without-agenda. “Can’t anyone just be church?” is a question posed in some form in multiple conversations I have had with people who are not a part of a congregation. And a church “just being church” takes only one agenda as their own - God’s agenda - for which another term could be God’s mission, the mysterious and transcendent Missio Dei. God’s mission is made known in Christ Jesus, who not only came to announce the mission and undertake the mission, but to embody it. The mysterious and transcendent made flesh and blood in Jesus of Nazareth.

As such, the body of Christ in the world today, the church takes its cue from Jesus, which means that the church must be concerned with both the personal and the social. Jesus was as concerned with forming personal relationships with disciples as he was caring for the poor of his day and subverting the oppressive Roman Empire. We must not underestimate political implications of the radical proclamation of Jesus, that the only Empire that matters is God’s. And we must never forget that he entered into personal relationships with individuals, forgave their sin, and charged them to go and sin no more.

Church is not an either/or proposition. Neither is it a watered down mixture of the two, resulting in a wimpy kind of cliquey gathering place that you are a part of because you feel “comfortable” there. Being the church is not wimpy, nor is it polarized; it is (perceptually) paradoxical in that it is 100% evangelical AND 100% social justice. It should be hard to distinguish one from the other, if it is done well. To love Jesus personally IS to love your neighbor as yourself, and if you say you love Jesus and then don’t help your neighbors when they need help, then you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do (1 John 3-4).

I’ve been contemplating John Wesley’s text “The Character of a Methodist” recently, mainly as a part of my grief process, working through my grandfather’s death. In it, Wesley writes that a Methodist “‘does good unto all men;’ unto neighbours and strangers, friends and enemies: And that in every possible kind; not only to their bodies, by ‘feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting those that are sick or in prison;’ but much more does he labour to do good to their souls, as of the ability which God giveth; to awaken those that sleep in death; to bring those who are awakened to the atoning blood, that, ‘being justified by faith, they may have peace with God;’ and to provoke those who have peace with God to abound more in love and in good works.”

Notice in this remarkable sentence the balance of evangelicalism and justice. Caring for the physical needs of others is woven seamlessly together with caring for their souls. (And btw, look how cleverly he includes his “Way of Salvation” - you can see grace awakening, justifying, and sanctifying in one pithy summary sentence!) The two words “much more” indicate that the spiritual work will likely be a harder process, and require a fuller investment of discipleship to accomplish, and also that it has everlasting consequences.

And yes, I believe this is a distinctly Methodist approach, as did Mr. Wesley. Many may say, this approach isn’t really Methodist, it’s just basic Christianity. Well, Mr. Wesley also met that observation. He responded, “If any man say, ‘Why, these are only the common fundamental principles of Christianity!’ thou hast said; so I mean; this is the very truth; I know they are no other; and I would to God both thou and all men knew, that I, and all who follow my judgment, do vehemently refuse to be distinguished from other men, by any but the common principles of Christianity, -- the plain, old Christianity that I teach, renouncing and detesting all other marks of distinction.”

And it comes full circle, back to Springfield, Missouri in 2011. That is precisely my point; the common principles of Christianity have become lost in polarizing agendas, and many in this community desire a congregation where they can simply be the church, be guided by God’s agenda, and help one another become disciples of Jesus Christ who are changing the world for God’s sake.

I just so happen to think that Campbell UMC is perfectly suited to offer that “third option” in this area. Nothing would make me happier than if this congregation could be as Methodist as we could possibly be!


- Click here for the document “The Character of a Methodist.”
- Click here for my previous article titled "Hallmarks of a distinctly Methodist congregation”

Daddy Monk

My relationship with my grandfather as a member of his family is nearly indistinguishable from my relationship with him as a pastor in the United Methodist Church. That says more about him than it does about me.

Nobody loved the church more than Daddy Monk, and nobody since the Wesley brothers has been more Methodist than he was. John Wesley’s “The Character of a Methodist” reads like a biography of Monk Bryan.

+ “He is therefore happy in God, yea, always happy … He cannot but rejoice.”

Daddy Monk could get so tickled that he could hardly speak. It happened, for example, when he was recounting a crazy story about our old dog Runzel. He would begin the story, and pause to allow his deep chuckle time to rumble, offer a few more words, chuckle some more, pause and collect his thoughts, a wistful smile on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

But he could also deliver a punch line with a weighty episcopal presence as he stood before a room full of people hanging on his every word, sending the crowd into gales of laughter as he stood at the lectern, the only hint that he had been joking a tilt of his head or a tiny twinkle in his eye.

And then of course, he could sit still in the midst of his family, as the frenetic activity of our post-lunch playtime took place, a happy smile on his face, humming a tuneless hymn tune somewhere deep in his chest. Always happy, but maybe never more so than when his family was gathered together.

+ “…his heart is ever lifted up to God, at all times and in all places. In this he is never hindered, much less interrupted, by any person or thing. In retirement or company, in leisure, business, or conversation, his heart is ever with the Lord. Whether he lie down or rise up, God is in all his thoughts; he walks with God continually, having the loving eye of his mind still fixed upon him, and everywhere ‘seeing Him that is invisible.’”

I used to be painfully embarrassed when Daddy Monk would insist on praying before a meal out at a restaurant. He was not subtle about it, either. We had to join hands and he made a great show of bowing his head and closing his eyes just to embarrass me further, or so I thought. And then he couldn’t just say a little grace and be done, it was always a lengthy exposition that utilized all four points of the quadrilateral and contained quotations from the prophets, gospels, and an epistle, ending with a psalm. Okay, so I exaggerate a bit.

Every morning, Daddy Monk did the Upper Room devotion with my Nana, then with Twila, and always including anyone who was a guest and joined them for breakfast. Reading the devotion’s title, the scripture passage, the devotion itself, and then the prayer was only half of the morning devotion time, though. After the Upper Room was done, he got out his hymnal and found the bookmark he had left in it the previous morning. Opening to the hymn, he would read (or invite someone else to) the hymn title and author, tune name and composer, along with the dates of both. And then we would read the hymn aloud.

+ “And he accordingly loves his neighbour as himself; he loves every man as his own soul. His heart is full of love to all mankind, to every child of ‘the Father of the spirits of all flesh.’ That a man is not personally known to him, is no bar to his love…”

Daddy Monk called us every Sunday night. Late. It was usually after kids were in bed, and just about when the grown-ups were, too! Sometimes he had a topic to discuss (worship styles, sermon preparation, getting young people to church) or some happening to report (a good concert, a book study, a sermon) or maybe a question to ask (are the kids ready for school, how was your vacation, what’s the latest with your foster kids) - but no matter what we said to each other, the main thing was just to connect.

He maintained connections with an astonishing number of people. I cannot begin to tell you how many people he sent notes, cards, emails on a regular basis. People in Maryville, in Nebraska, in Columbia, in Junaluska, in Dallas - the love in his heart for people could not be contained. He loved deeply, and he loved broadly. And there were no strangers in his world, only potential friends that he had yet to talk with.

+ “…he is a Christian, not in name only, but in heart and in life. He is inwardly and outwardly conformed to the will of God, as revealed in the written word. He thinks, speaks, and lives, according to the method laid down in the revelation of Jesus Christ. His soul is renewed after the image of God, in righteousness and in all true holiness. And having the mind that was in Christ, he so walks as Christ also walked.”

See, the way Daddy Monk was when he was “being a pastor” or “being a bishop” is the same way he was when he was “being a grandfather.” I can’t separate “Bishop Bryan” from “Grandfather Bryan” because he didn’t; he was just Daddy Monk. Well, only a few really called him that, but those who didn’t only refrained from doing so out of deference to his title. He would have loved for everyone to call him Daddy Monk, I suspect.

I suppose love the church so much because I love him so much. And is the converse true as well? Do I love him because I love the church? I wonder. How much of what I do and who I am is because of his influence in my life? Would I be here, an itinerant preacher in the Missouri Conference of the United Methodist Church currently appointed to serve as pastor of Campbell United Methodist Church in Springfield Missouri, if not for Monk Bryan? If he wasn’t my grandfather?

Daddy Monk taught me that a job is not done until the tools are cleaned and put away in their proper place.
He taught me about fresh peaches sliced on vanilla ice cream.
Daddy Monk taught me that generosity and frugality are not mutually exclusive propositions.
He taught me to enjoy Dr. Pepper.
He taught me to pat horses’ faces and say “ho there” so they won’t be startled by your approach.
Daddy Monk taught me that telling a story always makes a point better than just making a point.
He taught me to care that our highways are being destroyed by semis and our world is being destroyed by wars.
He taught me that a great hymn always says more than a systematic theology.
Daddy Monk taught me that church is family and family is church and you don’t have to be a different person in the pulpit than you are anywhere else.

He taught me more than I can write, more than I can remember, more than I ever could be. There is no one in the world I wanted to please more, no one I more wanted to be proud of me.

Yes, I will miss him. Even though it has been in the back of my mind for years and year that “this might be the last …” I wasn’t really ready for him to be gone. No, I knew he wasn’t going to live forever, but then again, I was kind of thinking that he was going to live forever.

My company before is gone, and I am left alone with thee …

A Bully-free School Year?

Teachers and students and staff are heading back to school for another academic year. It can be an exciting time full of possibility and energy. But for some who are the targets of bullying, it can be a time of fear and hopelessness.

What if this school year was declared “bully-free?” How would hallways and playgrounds and locker rooms and lunchrooms be different if each and every kid felt confident enough to just be themselves without fear of being picked on, laughed at, manipulated, or minimized? Wouldn’t that be great?

This would be the time to start, you know, right at the beginning. (A very good place to start.) If the bullies in our schools were never allowed to get traction in the first place, it would go a long way toward making this a bully-free school year. Stop them before they even start.

How? Most of the time, bullies do what they do because it draws a peer group tighter to them by ostracizing another. It is a power play that feeds off of attention. Whether the peers draw closer to the bully out of fear or genuine admiration or some other factor varies. But the end result is the same; the bully has a posse, an entourage. Not necessarily “friends,” but definitely relationships that are intense and fraught with emotion. These relationships feed the bully’s self-esteem, which may or may not be low to begin with.

So there seem to be two streams by which kids could approach the elimination of bullying. First, diffuse the posse. Second, attach to the target.

Diffuse the Posse
Diffusing the posse means ignoring the bully and giving positive attention to the individuals in the bully’s crew. This may be tricky, since they are probably bully wanna-be’s themselves. Nonetheless, connecting to the people in the bully’s posse pulls them away, and denies the bully the attention they are seeking. Actually, the kids in the bully’s entourage may be secretly eager to disconnect from the bully, and (maybe subconsciously) looking for an out.

A group of kids can diffuse the posse more easily than a single kid, so a coordinated effort would work well. A bully usually has a pretty small posse, and kids who are outside the posse greatly outnumber them. If two or three kids will intentionally befriend a posse member (invite them to play, sit with them at lunch, ask them to be on the same team playing basketball or whatever), how in the world will that posse member ever be able to stay attached to the bully? The healthy pull of two or three kids in a positive direction will be stronger than the unhealthy pull of the bully. And if two or three kids do that for each posse member, pretty soon the bully is left without an entourage, and finds him- or herself to be the one ostracized, with no more attention and therefore no more power.

Attach to the Target
The second approach is to attach to the target. I know, “target” is an impersonal word that objectifies the person, but that is exactly why I chose it. The bully does not see a person, but a target. The target might be selected because they are bad at sports, or they are gay, or they do not wear fashionable clothing, or they have a quirky personality - some characteristic that places them outside of the “norm” as the bully defines it. To the bully, they are not a person at all, and that makes it easier to bully them.

“Attaching to the target” is to personalize them, affirm their identity, embrace the very characteristics the bully rejects. This approach requires kids to first of all NOTICE when other kids are targets, and then risk making themselves targets also in order to make a friend. This can be very, very difficult to do. It is much easier to coast through school not noticing the problem than to keep your eyes open to it. And also bullies can be subtle about it, wielding their manipulative influence in ways that may be very difficult to detect.

And once a kid notices that another kid is a target, it is a risk to befriend them. After all, you might become a target yourself. Again, if there is a group of kids who will make a point to work together, the risk is lessened. The key is to give attention to the kid who was the bully’s target, rather than the bully, which derails the power trip the bully might have taken.

Teachers
Notice that these two approaches involve other kids. Teachers, it seems to me, have a very limited role to play in the elimination of bullying. Any discipline they enforce in response to bullying only serves to draw more attention to the bully. When a teacher has to react to a bully, that means the bully has power over them. No amount of scolding or detention or sending off to the principal’s office is going to lessen bullying. In fact, it may encourage it by validating the behavior in the eyes of the posse. “Ooh, he IS bad. He got sent to the principal’s office!”

What a teacher can do is limit the bully’s opportunity for an audience. Figure out who the bully is, and who is in the entourage, and intentionally keep the bully separate from the entourage members. Seat the bully in the back of the room, not the front. Nobody can see them in the back but you. Remember that the bully is not just “being bad,” she or he is seeking attention. Eliminating the attention might escalate the behavior for a short time as the bully tries to figure out where the new boundary is, but if it holds consistently, ultimately the lack of attention will erode the bully’s power and eliminate the bullying.

Bully-free
I’m not naïve enough to think that there will be no bullying at all this year, but I am hopeful enough to think that if a few kids make a few changes, take a few risks, and start to “diffuse the bully’s posse” and “attach to the bully’s targets,” it could make a big difference. And this is the perfect time to start, right at the beginning of the year, before it really has a chance to begin.

Fearless pioneering a way of life then and now

Campbell United Methodist Church celebrates 125 years

It’s hard to describe 125 years of a congregation’s history without just listing dates and describing buildings. As Campbell United Methodist Church celebrates her Quasquicentennial anniversary, I find myself wondering about the most effective way to convey the nuance of this moment.

Yes of course there have been buildings, but there's more to the story than that... I wonder what happened IN them.

I count five buildings, starting with the very first “mission” group sent out by Rev. Dr. W.B. Palmore of St. Paul Methodist Church. The group met in the 1) Frisco Opera House (I wonder if anyone made jokes about the singing during their worship times), and then in the 2) Grand Army of the Republic Hall (I wonder if anyone commented on the irony of a church in the Methodist Episcopal South church meeting in a hall used by an organization of veterans of the Union army).

3) There was a red brick building finished in 1888, where the name of this fledgling congregation changed from Palmore Chapel to Campbell Street Methodist Episcopal Church, South (which makes me wonder if anyone said, “We shoulda stuck with Palmore!” although the change happened at the request of Rev. Palmore himself, which leads me to wonder if he thought having a congregation named after him while he was still alive just would have been too weird).

4) There was another building, built in stages during the decade of the 1920s, and finally paid for by 1945, that still stands today and is in use by the Assemblies of God headquarters. The congregation spent more than 60 years in this building, through the Methodist unification of 1939 (when it became Campbell Street Methodist Church) and the renaming of the Springfield streets in 1950 (when it became Campbell Avenue Methodist Church) and the EUB/Methodist merger of 1968 (when it became Campbell Avenue United Methodist Church). This building was officially designated a “Historic Building” in 1982 (which makes me wonder how many people started to view their church as a building housing a museum instead of an active center for ministry).

5) Then there is the present building, which sits on 10 acres that used to be surrounded by pastures but now is surrounded by rapidly growing Springfield, and thanks to the bold vision of this congregation Campbell sits right in the middle of it. Moving the building to this location in 1984 was one of the most difficult, risky, and potentially disastrous changes this congregation has ever made (which makes me wonder who it was exactly who first posed the question, “Okay, but since we won’t be on Campbell Avenue anymore, what will our name be now?” and how the decision was made to just call it Campbell United Methodist Church, as it is now called).

That’s five buildings and five names over 125 years. It kind of makes sense that the congregation carries the name “Campbell.” The street that the congregation was named for was named after John and Louisa Campbell, the pioneers who founded the city of Springfield in the 1820s. Named after these fearless pioneers, this congregation has a history of fearless pioneering itself.

Having been created out of the energy of post-Civil War growth and renewal, riding a wave of development that was expedited by the expansion of the Frisco Railroad to the city, there has always been a sense of adventure at Campbell, a call to explore frontiers, and a passion to share the love of God with the community, and around the world.

How do you celebrate 125 years of a congregation? I wonder…

How many times has this congregation gathered to worship? How many weddings have there been? How many funerals? How many prayers shared? How many souls baptized? How many times has the sacrament of Holy Communion been served?

How many times have Bibles been opened in a small group from this congregation to study God’s word? How many “Aha moments” have happened? How many new insights have changed how many lives? How many new friendships have formed?

How many times have people of this congregation united to help someone in need? How many mission trips? How many hours of service have been given freely as disciples of Jesus? How many people have been invited into a relationship with God through Jesus Christ in this Holy Spirit filled congregation?

If I dwell on these questions, it makes my brain hurt. It is staggering, isn’t it? How do we celebrate it? How do we honor all of that? How do we remember with sufficient respect and appropriate admiration?

And … how do we avoid the temptation of nostalgia? How do we celebrate the good ol’ days without becoming wistful and attempting to relive them? How do we make sure our history is a foundation upon which to build rather than a weight preventing us from moving on?

But I don’t think that’s going to be too much of an issue at Campbell - the whole “getting stuck in the past” thing, I mean. You see, this congregation has a knack for getting through. There have been ups, downs, and flat places as well. And the pioneers that currently belong to Campbell United Methodist Church have been through them all.

I think Dr. Palmore would approve.

Politics, Attention, and the Squiggly Line in Your Eye

I share the opinion of many, that the recent political hullaballoo was pure theatrical fabrication, an unnecessary debate about a decision that was a foregone conclusion, and does very little to actually help the country recover from our financial crisis.

My guess about the motivation for the whole thing is a bit different than those I have heard. It is related, but comes at it from a slightly different angle. I don’t think it was votes or money or power that led to it, but rather simple attention.

People act differently when they realize others are paying attention to them. A lot of the time, we do things we normally wouldn’t do and say things we normally wouldn’t say when there are people looking at and listening to us. We get nervous or excited or distracted and end up looking and/or sounding silly, stammering our way through a bit of ridiculousness that we probably could and should have left unsaid. Some call it "stage fright."

It is the same reason that silences feel awkward to us in conversations. When we feel like someone is counting on us to hold up our end of the conversation, we sense a pressure to speak. That pressure causes us to say things like, “Sure is hot lately” - “Yep, but it’s not so much the heat as the humidity” - “You got that right!” about a million times even though we already all know it’s not so much the heat as the humidity since we have spent the last two months telling one another that, but when someone else is paying attention to us we can’t just not talk, can we?

Now, multiply that scenario by one-hundred-forty-twitter-thousand and add that to a 24-hour-news-cycle and then factor it to the power of internet-million and you will then begin to sense the awkwardness Washington politicians must feel in the vacuum created by attention.

After all, they would feel like they weren’t doing their job if they didn’t talk about stuff. And sometimes, when they become aware that we are all paying attention to them, the pressure of that attention causes them to say stuff they would never dream of saying in ordinary circumstances.

The bad thing about this situation was, there really are some important conversations that need to be happening in our nation’s capital, and yet we’ve spent the last few weeks on this one. Hey I know! Maybe if we all agreed to stop paying attention to them, they’ll talk about some stuff that matters.

It would be kind of like the squiggly line in your eye; in order to truly see it you can’t look right at it. In order for our government to truly function, we need to not look at them, or listen to them, or pay any attention to them whatsoever! Sounds like a plan to me - who’s with me?

There is No Debt Ceiling on the Grace of God

Why discipleship giving is not like debt ceiling negotiations

As I write this, Washington has apparently reached some kind of agreement that will prevent the nation from defaulting on our debts. In play are two broad categories, taxes and spending; in other words, income and outgo, the same basic principles that individuals and families all around the country deal with month by month, only multiplied by 300,000,000 or so.

I think some of the anxiety, uncertainty, and fear that has characterized the last few weeks in Washington has trickled into congregational giving, and I lament that. Congregations do not tax members. People do not contribute to a congregation in order to “make budget.” We operate from a completely different set of priorities.

Of course, in order to function in our society, at one level congregations have to think in terms of “income” and “outgo” as well, generating budgets that anticipate an “income” and guide the “outgo” that supports the activity of the congregation. We do so for tracking purposes, for accounting and accountability, and for ease of reporting. But the similarity ends there.

Different Priorities
We start by having faith that God will provide abundantly enough resources to accomplish exactly what God wants to accomplish. Secondly, we think of giving as an act of discipleship, done freely and without compulsion, as our response to what God does for us. And ultimately, we know that all we have comes from God in the first place, so as we offer our money we aren’t giving anything away at all, rather we are multiplying God’s resources to accomplish God’s purposes.

The priorities that shape giving in the church are supposed to be God’s priorities, and so they require constant reform and renewal. Because we are sinful people living in a broken world, we must continually re-examine ourselves to ensure we are keeping God’s priorities at the forefront. In fact, the moment we feel we have God’s priorities completely figured out is the moment we need to step back and re-assess the situation.

The national priorities are a part of this world; God’s priorities are heavenly. And often those two sets of priorities come into conflict, which can make it tricky to figure out what it means to be the church, “on earth as it is in heaven.”

Better Ecclesiology
I wonder how many people see the relationship between citizen and government as parallel to the relationship between member and congregation. I pay taxes and so I get services - police, fire, schools, roads, and so forth. Doesn’t that mean I “pay” my offering and so I should get services from the church - worship, Sunday School, weddings, funerals, and so forth?

When we fail to articulate a sufficient ecclesiology, church is just one more in a long list of pleasant social gatherings. I believe this is how the church has been operating for years, and it’s high time to stop.

For example, it is time to stop using phrases like, “…give to the church.” No, we don’t ask people to give “to the church;” people are the church. The church gives to God’s mission. We must no longer separate “people” and “church,” even in our thoughts. That is just bad ecclesiology.

Because the church is the body of Christ, our challenge is also the articulation of a richer Christology. Intertwined with the issue of diminishing financial discipleship is a diluted image of Jesus that many people embrace. Jesus has become the Chairman of the Federal Reserve in our lives, and we call upon him to provide testimony every now and then, when what we are supposed to be doing is laying down our entire lives (including our resources) for him so that he can live through us.

Better ecclesiology starts with different priorities
As I mentioned before, priority one for the church is acting in faith that God will accomplish God’s mission, and as such there will be sufficient resources to accomplish exactly what God has in mind. This means that individuals, families, committees, classes, ministry teams, and administrative boards all must stay attuned to God’s priorities when making decisions about giving and spending. When there seems to be a resource gap of some kind, the place to start is to ask what God wants to happen here.

Secondly, the church is comprised of disciples of Christ Jesus for whom giving is an act of surrender to Christ’s Lordship in our lives. Because Jesus gave up every bit of himself for us, we do the same for others. Our sin limits us from doing this fully, so we rely on the grace of God to help us grow in the process we know as “sanctification.” Sanctification, or growing in discipleship, means freely giving away more and more of ourselves so that Christ can live more and more fully through us. We do not do this because we are required to; we do this because we choose to.

And ultimately, the priorities of the church are shaped by the understanding that everything in our possession belongs to the Creator of the cosmos. We hold it temporarily, take care of it, build stuff out of it, but first and foremost it all belongs to God. And so there really is no such thing as giving something away, since it was never really mine to begin with. This truth is what made it possible for Jesus to teach his followers to “give them your cloak as well,” for example.

The radical implication of living by these divine priorities is that during a financial crisis (in earthly terms) is in fact the very best time to increase discipleship giving. Would there be a more powerful statement of faith in God? Would there be a profounder embodiment of the hope offered in Jesus? Would there be a more meaningful way to announce to the world that the Spirit is alive and at work in the world?

Local Implications
At Campbell UMC, giving overall is up thanks to an ongoing capital campaign we call “Imagine,” but discipleship giving specifically is down this year. (The “Imagine” campaign is designated for facility improvement and debt.)

So when it came right down to it, we were just barely able to pay the bills last month. I can’t help but wonder if that is partly due to the fear created by the political bickering in our nation. People sense the anxiety of the national system, and assume there is anxiety in all systems.

I know that congregations are decreasing activities, eliminating staff positions, cutting corners and trying to figure out creative ways to raise funds. I also know that there is a combination of factors involved with congregational health, and many of those factors are contextual. But I really wonder how much the financial issues of the nation and the world are impacting the financial decisions of Christians, specifically the offerings that are made in churches around the country and across the globe.

So when the plate goes by this week, remember that Christian discipleship has a claim on our whole lives, including the money we have in our pockets, or our bank accounts, or sewn into our mattresses, or wherever you keep it. Don’t throw that check into the plate thinking of it as your church tax, paid to ensure that services are delivered.

It isn’t a tax. It isn’t budget support. It is discipleship - a promise to give away everything you have if that’s what it takes to follow your Lord and Master, Jesus - who after all did the very same for you.

Our financial discipleship is a joyous response to the good news that there is no debt ceiling on the grace of God!

Do I Know You?

Yesterday morning, I said something in the sermon that I didn't write. Luckily, I said it during first service so that I could keep it in for the next two.

I outline my sermons, but sometimes I write out specific sentences or phrases, especially what I call the "hook," or a kind of tag line that is intended for people to take home with them to remember the message.

This week's hook was, "Jesus is your friend so you can be a friend to others."

I know, kind of generic, not very catchy, pretty lame actually. But (thank you Lord) that's not what came out of my mouth.

What I said was, "No, I don't know you. But I do know Jesus. And because I know Jesus, I know you."

The set up went like this:

The Bible describes "regular old" friendship using the Greek word philia, which we usually translate "love." There's nothing at all inherently wrong with philia. Growing as a disciple of Jesus, however, requires us to move from philia to agape, divine love. Jesus said, 'There is no greater love (agape) than to lay down one's life for one's friends (philos).' (tangent: English is sometimes inadequate to convey the fuller meanings of ancient texts, so we need to take great care as we read them.)

To move from philia to agape, then, is to be willing to lay down your life for another. For whom would you lay down your life?

Here I paused and sort of scanned the room. I asked again, "For whom would you be willing to lay down your life?"

Many of us think of somebody in our family or a dear friend when confronted with that question, which is wonderful. But what Jesus asks of his followers is to lay down our lives for complete strangers, people we've never met before. After all, that's what he did. (Remember "Where is your mother? Where are your brothers, Jesus?")

The radical call of Christian friendship is to lay down our lives for complete strangers. That is an idea so counterintuitive in our fearful and distrusting world that we have a really, really hard time making any relevant sense of it.

And so I asked people to greet strangers throughout their week with as much joy and enthusiasm as they would greet a dear friend whom they had not seen in weeks. Smile at them and shake their hand and express your sincere happiness at seeing them! Act toward them as you would your very best friend.

Then, after the awkwardness passes, and they ask you, "Do I know you?" you just smile and respond, "No, I don't know you. But I know Jesus. And because I know Jesus, I know you!"

As soon as I said it, I thought it was kind of corny, and wondered where exactly it had come from. After all, that's where I had planned to say, "Remember that Jesus is your friend so you can be a friend to others." But there was also a sense of the power of that simple idea. I don't know if others in the room sensed it, but I certainly did. It was a moment in which all of us shared in a word from God, a simple truth that challenged all of us to a deeper commitment to Christ. And I do mean all of us; I felt the challenge myself.

As I've written before, the church does not have a problem with programming or facilities, lack of sufficiently catchy mission statements, or even worship style or preaching as much as it has a profoundly impoverished Christology. One of the ways that shows up is the alarming frequency with which "church people" only hang out with other "church people." Yes, friends love each other and thats just fine - but there is more to being a follower of Jesus than loving on the people you already know.

"Our church is friendly." Great. That's super. So is every church, when you ask them. Now, what else is it? There's a difference between being friendly and being a Christian friend.

So, "church people," inventory your week this week and keep track of how many interactions you have with other "church people." Then if you need to do some breaking free, do it. Put yourself in places out and about (coffee shop, grocery store, hair salon, restaurant) where you have opportunities to meet and talk with strangers who haven't yet become friends. And greet them as if they are already your very best friend you haven't seen in ages.

Then, after you freak them out a little bit, you could pay for their coffee or put your groceries down to help them carry out theirs or give them a 50% tip or bus your own table and ask them to sit down and rest while you do or ... do something that backs up your words. Something you would think of doing for your best friend. Something you would deeply desire to do for someone you love.

Then, if they ask, invite them to come to worship with you. And if that door doesn't open, try again next week! Whatever happens next, you will have made a friend for Christ's sake.

No, I don't really know you. But I do know Jesus. That makes me your friend.

"I Will Be With Your Mouth" or: Speaking for God

“I will be with your mouth.” That’s all the further God wanted to go at this point, apparently (Exodus 4). Not “I will be with you,” as had been the case other times. Nope, this time all God would promise Moses was that the divine presence would be targeted at one specific body part.

God would not be with Moses’ left pinky toe, but would be with his mouth. Ha!

Of course, Moses’ complaint had to do specifically with his mouth, as he had said that he was “slow of speech and slow of tongue,” and as such was unsuited to follow God’s call to go to Pharaoh and demand release of the Hebrew people. (btw “Speech” and “mouth” are both the same word in Hebrew - peh - a word used 5 times in Exodus 4.)

How many times have we said something along those lines? As in, “I just don’t know what to say.” Or maybe, “I would go and visit her, but I wouldn’t know what to say.” Or in another context, “I’m just not comfortable talking with people about ‘religion.’” Or said in a specific way, “I feel like if I invite someone to church, they’ll think I’m being pushy.” Or something like that.

Listen to God - “I will be with your mouth.”

Or maybe, “Just let me do the talking.”

Now, we may be tempted to misunderstand this, and think that if God is doing the talking, we don’t have to do anything. We might take our protest a step further, like Moses did. We might say, “Well if you are going to do the talking, Lord, I’ll just stay home and read a book.”

Moses’ protest continued, “Please send someone else.”
It’s not my job.
That’s why we hire church staff, isn’t it?
That’s not really my “calling.”
I don’t think that’s one of my “spiritual gifts.”

But when we do so, we may find that God’s next move makes us even more uncomfortable. Yes, God appoints Aaron to go along with Moses, but do you know how God defines that relationship? God tells Moses, “He shall serve as a mouth for you, and you shall serve as God for him.” It almost seems like God is saying to Moses, “All right, you won’t go yourself? Well, you trying being ‘God’ for someone else for a while and see how you like it.”

Moses maybe should have gone with the whole “I will be with your mouth” thing while he had the chance!

When Moses tried to shirk his obligation in realizing God’s mission, God did not remove Moses’ responsibility, but rather increased it. God told Moses, “Okay, I will still be with your mouth, and I’ll be with Aaron’s mouth, too. But now I’ll be holding you directly responsible for what words he says, as well as your own.”

So maybe we should stick with the whole “I will be with your mouth” thing, also. We talk a lot about having “filters” on our speech, a kind of governor on our words that prevents harmful, hurtful, hateful, and otherwise offensive things from coming out. When someone is under stress or not thinking clearly or somehow out of sorts, often those filters do not function well or are removed altogether. They may end up saying things that they do not intend, and never would have said without the filters in place. And filters don’t work just for the choice of words, they also work for the tone of voice, body language, facial expressions, and all of those communication tools available to us.

One way to think of God is as the divine filter for our words. We need to listen very closely to what we say (and are about to say) and run it by God a few times to see if it makes it through God’s filter. And that is as true (or maybe more so) for online communication as face-to-face conversation.

God’s very precise and kind of peculiar promise is, “I will be with your mouth.” You still have to go, but I will be with your mouth. You still have to start the conversation, but I’ll let you know what to say. So go, say “hello,” and see what happens after that.

God has something really important to say, and we are the ones God wants to be saying it.

Are you saying what God wants you to be saying? And are you saying it in a way that God wants you to say it? And if you’re not sure, maybe you should just be quiet and listen for a while? I'm sure God will let you know.

What Is This Feeling? - Reflecting on "Chidren of Eden"

What is this feeling?

An exhausted exhilaration has settled within and around me today. I guess that’s the way to describe it. It feels like significance. As though something of consequence has happened (is happening?), and I was (am?) a part of it.

From Tuesday, April 5, 2011 until now has been one of the most hectic, amazing, frustrating, wonderful, tiring, energizing … the list could go on … periods of time in my life. I peg it to April 5 because that was when I got up on stage at the Lander’s Theatre and auditioned for “Children of Eden” with a song that nobody knew but me and probably wasn’t the best choice and left me feeling like I should have chosen a different one. But I got called back, then learned that I was cast as “Noah” in the show, and began rehearsing.

What was it about this particular show, this particular production of this particular show, that was so miraculous? Script, music, message, director’s vision, cast talent, amazing set, gorgeous costumes, brilliant lighting, spectacular projections … ? These things added together? Just the magic of theater?

Or was there something else happening?

It was something that the cast sensed early on, forming deep and intense connections among one-time strangers. It was something that the audience sensed every single show, many times standing and cheering even before the final blackout. It was something that “theater people” who had been a part of live theater for umpteen years even had trouble describing. When you hear a theater veteran say, "I've never been a part of anything like this," it points to something beyond the ordinary.

The show was religious. Whatever your faith, this show elicited reflection on God. That was true for the audiences as well as the crew and cast. And when you are with a show that compels theological reflection for three months, there’s a lot of opportunity for divine activity. It pulls out of you a response that for lack of a better word we call “emotional.” But this experience obviously affected more than just emotions.

When you are kneeling on stage among a phenomenal cast who have become dear friends, heads bowed during the final song, and you hear not just sniffs and sighs but actual sobs as we all weep together before joining together for one final refrain … “Children of Eden, seek for your garden, you and your children to come, someday to come home…”

Added into the mix for me personally were a whole slew of moments of significance: our kids finishing their school year, welcoming a newborn baby into our home for foster care, being elected a delegate to the United Methodist Jurisdictional Conference from Missouri, participating in this year’s amazing Vacation Bible School, helping two gifted young men begin their process toward ordination, plus the everyday significance of worship, pastoral care, staff transitions, and all that other ordinary stuff that makes pastoral ministry so extraordinary.

Which goes to say, my experience with “Children of Eden” would have been flat-out impossible for me without my incredibly amazing and infinitely supportive wife Erin, the absolute love of my life and my best of best friends in the whole world. Not to mention our two exceptional children who just so happen to love the fact that their Daddy got to be on stage for this show. And the unbelievably gifted and talented staff of Campbell UMC who covered for me during weeks of rehearsals and encouraged me during weekends of performances. Plus the wonderful people of Campbell who bought tickets by the dozens and dozens and cheered me on and were so gracious in understanding why their sort of off-the-wall pastor wanted to do this weird, wonderful thing in the first place. Thank you, every single one of you!

+++

I stood, hand stretched upward, head up, energy given, practically hovering in the air, surrounded by 50 of my best friends doing exactly the same thing, in the forever instant of time after our final cut off and before the blackout.

I had never before so desperately wanted a moment to last forever; I had never before been so grateful for a moment to pass.

“The time has come for us to begin our journeys.
We have no map - only the ways we most wish for ourselves.”

“Funny now how Eden doesn’t seem so far.”

“I cannot bear to feel this pain … but I would not go back again.”

“If no outer force will show you your course, you’ll have to look inside.”

“The hardest part of love … the rarest part of love … and the truest part of love …
… is the letting go.”

What is this feeling?

I think it might be love.

Prophecies, Visions, and Dreams - Oh My!

Part of the Pentecost story in Acts is the prophecies, visions, and dreams that followers of Jesus are given when the Holy Spirit comes to them. It is actually Peter, quoting the prophet Joel, who makes the allusion.

The followers of Jesus received the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit empowered them to dream.

We all dream. We all envision a future for ourselves, our families, our congregations, our communities. We know what it means to desire a different future, a better future.

But how do I know the difference between a dream that comes from the Holy Spirit and a dream that comes from within myself? How can I tell if it is God or my ego creating this picture of the future in my mind?

I mean, I could have a dream of myself driving a brand new, silver, Porsche 911 Carrera 4 GTS Cabriolet with the top down and U2 blasting out of the speakers, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t come from God. But obviously not all of my dreams would be so easy to distinguish.

I have a different vision for the church than some do. And I actually think that having multiple congregational visions is healthy for the church as a whole. When it comes to congregational vitality, “one-size-fits-all” is not a good rule to follow. And I do not begrudge one person their dream for the future of the church, as long as it is not harmful.

What are our dreams for the church?
- Bigger congregations
- Smaller congregations but more of them
- More small groups within larger congregations
- Networks of simple churches meeting in living rooms
- New congregations emerging from within older congregations
- Younger congregations
- Multi-generational congregations
- Ginormous congregations with multiple locations
- Congregations without locations that gather as flash mobs in various public places
- The complete dissolution of the notion of a “congregation” and creation of a new connectional concept of church, networked somewhere in the cloud

There’s nothing wrong with multiple dreams within the church. I’d say the only thing wrong is no dream for the future, no vision, no motion forward.

Last night at rehearsal, an actor noted that in one particular scene different people in the chorus were making different choices about our respective reactions to the action on stage. The actor asked if the director wanted one uniform response from the chorus. She replied that no, the multiple reactions actually created interest and energy. The only thing that would be “wrong” is if there was no reaction at all.

It’s like that with vision for the church, too. The vision in one congregation is different from the vision in another congregation, and that’s okay as long as it first of all does no harm. What would not be okay is if a congregation claims no vision at all. The Pentecost story is all about the Holy Spirit sending prophecies, visions, and dreams to followers of Jesus, and I believe that the Holy Spirit continues to do so today.

To Love With Our Full Capacity

Yesterday at the table my wife Erin said, “I wonder what would happen if there was a tornado in Topeka and Westboro Baptist Church was destroyed.” In all of the hullaballoo about their phantom protest in Joplin, I must say that is one thought I never heard uttered.

How would people react if that happened? The better angels of our nature might like us to think, “Of course, we would send rescue teams and clean-up crews and mission teams to rebuild the community, including their church building.” But I wonder.

I wonder if we might feel a certain smug satisfaction; “They had it coming.”

I wonder if there would be people who said God was punishing them for their behavior.

I wonder if, even if we didn’t say it out loud, we might think it to ourselves.

And I wonder how Christlike that would be.

This weekend United Methodists from around Missouri will gather for our Annual Conference in Springfield. It is a time to renew the connection and affirm our mission as the Body of Christ in the world. This year, a lot of our attention and energy will be invested in communities like Joplin and Sedalia that have been impacted by harsh spring weather, and the response of the church in those communities.

We also spend time this year electing representatives to go to two other conferences, sort of the next levels up from our state - Jurisdictional and General. It breaks my heart that, during voting years like this, often our differences are highlighted more than our unity. And most of the time, those differences emerge over social issues, left and right, conservative and progressive, yada yada yada. It is rarely pretty.

What a strange confluence these two weeks! The Joplin devastation shakes everything up. The overwhelming response is a powerful symbol of unity. The hints of the Westboro protest create division. Annual Conference is the unity of the connection embodied. The election of delegates, rather than celebrating Christian unity, often highlights our differences, differences that the Westboro group has falsely magnified to the point of ridiculousness.

It’s maddeningly wonderful, isn’t it? To be the church in 2011? It will drive you crazy at the very same time it is filling you with deep and abiding joy. Sure, there are times I wish following Jesus was easier, but the truth is it’s not. It’s hard to follow Jesus. It is so hard to love people with the same love Jesus has for us, love deep enough to die for us!

Following Jesus means that we are going to love people that we may not be inclined to agree with. And being the church means that we love with our full capacity; as the Body of Christ we really have no other option. I was thinking the other day about just how insignificant the theological, political, and social differences are when people are working together to clear rubble, distribute supplies, and rebuild homes.

We are many; we are one. We are the church. My prayer for Annual Conference this year is that we will remember to love with our full capacity as we all help one another in becoming disciples of Jesus Christ.

A Great Weekend to Go to Church

This weekend is our national celebration of Memorial Day. It is a weekend that people traditionally … (how shall I say this?) … don’t necessarily make worship a part of their itinerary. Outdoor activities, get-togethers with family, and travel frequently diminish participation in Sunday gatherings. And that’s fine; I’m certainly not bashing the occasional three-day weekend spent connecting with our families!

But I’m just wondering about this Sunday, coming at the end of a week in which our neighbors in Joplin, across the state, and throughout the region have been devastated by especially harsh weather. 125 have been confirmed dead in Joplin, and 232 are unaccounted for. The number of injuries is staggering. The destruction of property is mind-boggling. We are shaken, stricken, and scared.

What better time to gather together to remember that God is good, all the time? How could there be a more opportune moment to affirm that the Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love? When else would it be more appropriate for us to reaffirm Christ’s call to help those who need help and truly love our neighbors as ourselves?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if sanctuaries across the nation were filled to overflowing this Sunday morning? If people travelling made a point to find the nearest church so that they could go to worship? If people with guests would bring their guests to worship with them instead of using them as an excuse to be somewhere else?

Wouldn’t it be great if followers of Jesus gathered in record numbers this weekend to proclaim one gigantic NO! - the devastation of this world is not the end of the story! There is more!

Wouldn’t it be amazing if the Church assembled for worship this weekend with no regard at all for denomination or congregation, but simply and powerfully as the body of Christ, affirmed an enormous YES! - There is hope! There is resurrection! There is life!

This started out as an email to the people of Campbell UMC to encourage them to be at worship this weekend, but it has become a bit more than that, I suppose. My hope is that all who are reading this, wherever you are, will go to church this Sunday and worship God with as much passion, energy, and devotion as ever. No, with even more!

God is good! ALL the time!

Thoughts on Devastation

Devastation.

I have heard this word more often in the last two days than I usually would in two months. In every case it is being used to describe the town of Joplin, Missouri, just over an hour west of here. Lots of big numbers: EF5 - 200 mph - 6 mile path - 750 injured - 8,000 buildings - 123 lives.

The pictures posted online reveal a chaotic landscape of jagged rubble. Cars tossed haphazardly, trees stripped of branches, skeletal silhouettes that used to be buildings, mounds of trash that were once people’s homes. Utter devastation.

The outpouring of help has been so enormous that people are now being told to actually stay away from Joplin at this time. Too many of us well-intentioned but untrained volunteers would get in the way of the people who really need to be there right now.

But the first impulse for many is to help, somehow, some way. There are people who need … who are hurting … people who have been devastated. We want to help them, now! We want to make the hurt go away, meet the need, un-devastate the devastation.

It seems there is a powerful human need to fill voids. We are inclined toward creation, and so when we see devastation our inherent reaction is to create, construct, and build. That’s what’s happening now, on a widespread scale. We are feeling a collective urge to un-devastate the lives of our neighbors in Joplin, to create again what has been un-made, to fill the void the tornado left behind.

It is in this impulse that I believe we witness most fully the power of God at work. The image of God becomes incarnate in this creative urge, in people working together to build community, extending ourselves into the lives of one another and truly loving our neighbors as ourselves.

Devastation.

A week before the tornado, a baby was born in Springfield. He spent the first week of his life in the NICU because his mom has diabetes, he was born a month early, and his blood sugar was all out of whack. Also during that week it was decided (by people he doesn’t know in an office somewhere else) that he was not going to be able to come home with his mom and dad. And since his half-sister happens to be our foster daughter already, we said that he could come home with us for a while. So he can be with his sister, you know.

Because there is this powerful impulse in us that tends to want to fill voids, to make the hurt go away, to un-devastate devastation. And it doesn’t matter if it is a town of 50,000 or one newborn baby in the NICU, at the heart of it devastation always looks like a chaotic landscape of jagged rubble.

We talked about it together. We always do. Our son said, “How would you feel if you were just born and you weren’t with anyone in your family?” And with that, there was no more conversation. So he can be with his sister. And with a family who will take good care of him, feed him well, help him grow, and extend our lives into his so that we might truly love him with all that it means to love another person.

And maybe that will fill at least a part of the void into which he was born, make a little bit of the hurt go away, and at least begin to un-devastate the devastation.

Well Maybe It IS My Parents' Offering Plate, After All

There is a lot to like about “Not Your Parents’ Offering Plate,” a book about money and the church by J. Clif Christopher.

People give to support a mission that is making a difference in people’s lives and that they can therefore truly believe in - yes.

It is not a great idea to appeal to “making our budget” as a way to get people to give - yes.

There are multiple ways to give, including regular income, capital, and estate giving - yes.

It doesn’t make sense to describe a poor financial situation and then expect people to give to a “failing” project - yes.

Sending regular “thank yous” to people who have given significantly to the church is always a good idea - yes.

All good stuff, all very helpful.

But when he tries to ground his ideas theologically and scripturally, I do not find it to be quite so helpful. In fact, I’m not quite sure how his ideas are connected to the theology he offers. The theological concerns I have with this book are the same two theological concerns I have with much of the contemporary church - Christology and ecclesiology.

Christology
The Church today adheres to a dramatically impoverished Christology. I believe this to be the central issue confronting church leaders today. We have no idea who Jesus really is, but we like to pretend that we do, and in the process often use Jesus as a means to achieve our desired end.

As it seems this book does when we are told that Jesus “had a great concern for the wealthy” in that he “knew how easily money could draw them away from their heavenly Father.” The rhetorical question is then posed: “With whom was Jesus more concerned about being able to enter the Kingdom of Heaven … the rich or the poor?” The argument is then made that we as pastors are supposed to get people to give money to the church as a way to “save their souls.”

Ah! Nothing like a little works righteousness to get your heart pumping, is there? I find it very difficult to agree with the notion that Jesus has a preferential option for the wealthy.

We must not minimize Jesus into a convenient means to get what we want. In this case, what the author wants is for people to give money to the church, and so Jesus becomes a fundraiser for heaven, skillfully convincing them to relinquish their resources in order to win God’s favor. Or in another case, what we might want is a congregation with a bigger worship attendance, so Jesus becomes the recruitment officer for God’s army, whose only purpose is to get people enrolled in the organization.

Ecclesiology
And speaking of the organization, since when did the church become an entity inhabiting a separate location than the people? Isn’t it true anymore that “I am the church; you are the church; we are the church together”? Or was that just a cute little Sunday School song that we are using to brainwash our kiddies into thinking they are actually important? (he said sarcastically.)

Throughout the book, the people are considered to be separate from the church. This is just plain bad ecclesiology. The entire premise is that “people” give to “the church,” and that just doesn’t make any sense to me. A representative sentence: “We must learn to answer the question our donors are asking us, ‘Why should I give to you?’”

Offering isn’t giving “to the church,” it is Christian discipleship. It is an act of worship. It is the church giving of itself in order to accomplish God’s mission. It is a part of our response to the grace of God given to us through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ and enlivened by the presence of the Holy Spirit in our midst. Or to put it another way, “Growing in the grace of giving is a response Christian disciples offer to God’s call to make a difference in the world.” (Bishop Robert Schnase)

To me, this is a more faithful approach to finances, and I know from experience that it is an approach that works. It is the approach we have taken in two different congregations in which I have served, and it has been effective at both of them. Both congregations were actively engaged in local and global ministries, and continue to make significant and transformative impact in the lives of people. (That’s not nearly as much experience as Clif Christopher has, but it ought to count for something.)

My ecclesiology does not make it possible for me to think in terms of the church as an organization, but more as an organism. (I can’t remember where I originally heard this distinction, but it’s not mine originally, that’s for sure.) I know that there are structures everywhere; even clouds have structure (thank you Dr. Robert Martin). And yet we shouldn’t think that the people are separate from that structure. Far from it - the people comprise the structure itself.

And so, what do I do with a book that has some excellent practical suggestions but derives them from a theology that I personally cannot agree with? Plus, I’m not so sure that Christopher makes the connection between the theology he holds and the practical suggestions he derives. It almost feels like he came up with some practical ideas and then tried to justify them scripturally and theologically.

It’s a tough one for me, too, because coming from my own theological perspective, I have arrived at many of the very same practical suggestions that this book does. Now how did that happen?

Maybe it says something about trying to universalize ideas that really are very contextual. My approach has worked in the places I have served, but probably wouldn’t elsewhere.

One of the things I have heard over and over in the places I have served is how tired people are of the church “asking for money” all the time. To me, this book feels like just another way to ask people for money, rather than infusing the church with an attitude of extravagant generosity.

If anyone is still reading by this point, I welcome your thoughts…

Death, Where is Your Victory?

There have been a lot of “takes” offered today in reaction to the death of Osama bin Laden. These have not been measured and thoughtful reflections; not enough time has passed to allow for that. They have been quick, almost reflexive. Many have consisted of cheers and celebrations, some of sober questions, some of dire predictions.

As I have read them, I have been struck by how much power one man’s death has had over so many people. News of this death spread even more quickly than the official announcement. All night long and throughout the day, electronic opinions have been shared all around the world, in multiple formats - text messages, Facebook statuses, blog posts, Tweets, TV and radio commentaries.

These reactions have quoted scripture, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mark Twain, and a slew of commentators from here, there, and everywhere. It has been quite a phenomenon.

All of this from one man’s death.

Are we so feeble as to allow one man’s death to influence us to such frenetic affectation?

Especially for those of us who follow Jesus, over whom death has no power, it seems to me that Osama bin Laden’s death should not incite such outbursts.

After all, “We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore, do not let sin exercise dominion in your mortal bodies, to make you obey their passions. No longer present your members to sin as instruments of wickedness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and present your members to God as instruments of righteousness. For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace” (Romans 16:5-14).

When death controls your actions, it has power over you. Death wins. You lose yourself in your reaction to the stimulus. That’s not a bad thing when you cheer for your favorite baseball team. It’s fun to get caught up in cheering with a crowd of fans for a home run or a strikeout. But cheering for death? Allowing death to be “victorious” over our words, actions, even our thoughts? I do not find that to be compatible with the teachings of Christ.

“What I am saying, brothers and sisters, is this: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:
‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’
‘Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?’
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:50-56).

Those who loved the man will mourn, and although those who did not love him will not mourn, neither should we cheer. We should not allow his death to be victorious over us. We should not allow his death to have power over us. He lived, he did horrific, evil, despicable things during his life, and now he is dead. He was the leader of a group whose actions are a threat to innocent life all around the world, and now that threat is diminished. The inspiring service of the men and women in the armed forces of our nation is to be commended.

I don’t know if this is a fitting metaphor or not, but let me give it a try. Sometimes a football player scores a touchdown, and then proceeds to make a complete and utter fool of himself during the celebration. Other times, a player goes up to the ref and hands him the ball. It is just as good a touchdown, but the reaction is different. This time, I think America just needs to go up to the ref and hand him the ball, then go get ready for the kickoff.

For Christians, the time is now, more than ever, to remember that “if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory” (Colossians 3:1-4).

Christ revealed. You also revealed.

Is what you are saying right now revealing Christ? Is what you are doing right now revealing Christ? Is what you are writing right now revealing Christ? Do you remember that you have died, and now your life is Christ’s? Is your mind set on things that are above, on God?

Let us not succumb to the power of death, especially not now.

The Jesus Interruption - Day 29

Turmoil.

That’s what was happening in the whole city of Jerusalem when Jesus entered on the first Palm Sunday. Other translations say “stirred” or “stirred up” or “moved” or “in an uproar” or even “trembling with excitement.” (This is what happens when a Greek word is hard to translate; it takes a lot of English words to convey the fullness of its meaning.)

Or we could just use our word of the season - INTERRUPTION! Jesus broke in between the life of the city, causing a disturbance that percolated up from his disciples until it every single soul in the city could feel it.

What would it take to interrupt the entire population of the city of Jerusalem? It was a big city, vibrant and cosmopolitan, a center of trade, culture, and religion. There may have been as many as 80,000 people living there at the time.

This Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of the holiest week of the year for followers of Jesus. We gather to worship this week, already knowing the story that unfolds, but ready to experience it once more.

Sunday, a parade of palms in the morning and walking the way of the cross in the afternoon. Monday, evening vespers. Thursday, remembering the last supper Jesus ate with his disciples. Friday, reliving the story of Jesus’s passion and death. Saturday, waiting in the darkness of the tomb through the night in an Easter vigil. Sunday, celebrating the sunrise and the resurrection of the Lord.

May we all experience the holiness of this week as a powerful interruption, capable of creating citywide turmoil, in the very center of our souls.

The Jesus Interruption - Day 26

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)

It stinks when you open up a tomb in which a dead body has been sealed for four days. Not meaning it “stinks” as in it isn’t the greatest situation, but that it really smells bad.

I love it that Martha pointed this out to Jesus, don’t you? As far as I can tell, Martha is in the Bible only twice, once in Luke 10 and once here, in John 11 and 12. And she is pragmatic to the core both times we encounter her.

Pragmatic, down to earth, no nonsense - Martha. In Luke, she is so occupied with doing stuff that she forgets to sit down and listen to Jesus. In John, she tactfully, and quite pragmatically, reminds Jesus that tombs tend to stink after a few days.

It reminds me of the woman at the well, who suggested Jesus would be unable to draw his water without a bucket. It reminds me of Nicodemus at night, who pragmatically suggested that it was going to be impossible to re-enter the womb of one’s mother.

Could it be that being practical, down to earth, no nonsense somehow misses the point? In all of these stories, the ones who took a stab at practicality had to be nudged a bit by Jesus in order to get to where he wanted them to be. Is being a Christian impractical?

No, that doesn’t seem right to me. I believe that my faith has many direct, practical implications on my life in many and various ways.

So maybe it’s more about getting stuck. Stuckness prevents you from moving. You get stuck in moments and are unable to progress. Nicodemus got stuck on “born again;” the woman got stuck on the bucket.

Martha got stuck thinking about stinky tombs and almost missed what Jesus had to say.

You get stuck in a tomb …

One way to say it might be that Jesus is in the business of getting people unstuck from wherever they find themselves and moving them to a better place.

Lazarus, come forth!

The Jesus Interruption - Day 25

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption
Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)

Why does Jesus cry?

When he heard of Lazarus's illness, he delayed two days before leaving where he was. He intends for this delay to reveal God's glory in a way that, apparently, would not be possible if he had left immediately. This is to be a divine sign of power through which witnesses will experience God's presence in a way they never have before.

And this makes Jesus sad?

He knows that Lazarus will rise, doesn't he? Why the groaning? Why the distress?

Some will say that it reveals his humanity. That it shows his raising Lazarus was an act of human compassion. After all, there were more folks than just Lazarus who had died that day, and he didn't raise them. The thinking is that it was his special relationship with Martha, Mary, and their brother Lazarus that compelled Jesus to raise him, pressed his compassion button.

And yet that interpretation puts this story at odds with some others that John tells. I believe John is trying to reveal something about Jesus's divinity, not his humanity. He is trying to get people to belive that Jesus is "the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing, you may have life in his name" (20:31).

Could it be that John was trying to reveal something about Jesus's divine character rather than his humanness? Could it be that John was allowing us to see the Son of God cry so that we would know that God has compassion for the human situation? Could it be that John is addressing our theodicy question in this tale of death, grief, and then rebirth?

Could it be an encouraging thought to know that even God cries sometimes?

The Jesus Interruption - Day 24

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - Lazarus, Martha, and Mary (John 11)

Just how significant do we allow Jesus to be? How deeply do we believe he is capable of going into our lives? Exactly how powerfully do we anticipate he will interrupt us in order to bring about the transformation that is possible in our new life in him?

Surely we underestimate, however we imagine it. I mean, whatever we think Jesus is capable of doing, it seems to me that we ought to magnify it a million times and then we would only be glimpsing a very tiny fraction of the potential.

In John 11, Jesus interrupts death itself!

Lazarus, in the tomb four days already, cold, wrapped in cloth, tomb sealed with a boulder - Jesus proclaims, “Lazarus, come forth!” - and he does.

There is no hardness that Jesus cannot soften, the rigor of death or the rigidity of the mind. There is no coldness that he cannot warm, the coldness of the tomb or the insidiousness of hatred. There is no seal that he cannot break, be it over a tomb or over your heart.

He will call out, “Come forth!” and you will. Wherever you are, Jesus will find a way to interrupt you, so that you can live a new life.

Lent gives us the time and space to listen for him, deep in our own tombs of grief, pain, brokenness. He is calling us even now. On Sunday we who hear him calling will gather to worship, emerging from where we are into where he wants us to be. Lazarus, come forth!

The Jesus Interruption - Day 18

Lent 2011 - The Jesus Interruption Each week of this season, we will be entering into the experience of an individual whose life was interrupted by an encounter with Jesus. This week - The Samaritan Woman at the Well (John 4)

This is the 18th day of Lent, not counting Sundays, which we don't, and the last time I sat down to write about The Jesus Interruption it was the 14th day of Lent. I had hoped to write a little bit every day, except Sundays, which I wouldn't, but so much for that. My interruption, it seems, got interrupted by ... stuff.

Kind of reminds me of that Samaritan woman in John 4. She interrupted the middle of her day to go and get water at the local well. It seems from the story that she may have made a habit of it, choosing noon as her water fetching time in order to avoid the rush in the morning. It may even be that she wanted to avoid being seen or having to converse with any of the others there at the time. We speculate that she may have her reasons for wanting to avoid other people.

And, lo and behold, her daily interruption gets interrupted! Not only is someone else at the well, this someone actually dares to speak to her! There is nothing much more frustrating than when you don't want to be spoken to, and someone speaks to you, is there?

"Look, all I want to do is just get my water and go home! I'm not really in the mood for a conversation right now."

But no, he greets her, asks for some water, utters some truly strange statements about water that may or may not be sentient, speaks aloud the woman's secrets as if they were common knowledge, and then proceeds into a theological conversation about the way their respective communities worship God.

And here's the thing: she goes with it! She not only allows this conversation, this interruption in her interruption, but she is moved by it. She is changed.

Funny how sometimes Jesus interrupts our perfectly reasonable interruptions in order to teach us something transfomational, isn't it?