Five Resolutions for the New Year

1. I resolve to develop a new habit that takes me out of my familiar work pattern.

It's too easy for ministry to fall into predictable patterns, only to be occasionally interrupted by an unexpected crisis. My resolution seeks to find more positive surprises in ministry by shaking up the established routine. I might make pastoral visits in the morning, not the afternoon; or take Mondays off instead of Fridays; or make a point of sitting on the steps in front of the church for at least two hours a week to interact with whoever walks by. Anything that opens space
for the Spirit to move in new and unexpected ways.

2. I resolve to find a new way to be a sheep, and not a shepherd.

In ministry, we become accustomed to leading. It is our job, after all. Almost any time we're involved in a church activity, people are looking to us to be in charge. Which sometimes means that we forget how to follow. We forget what it means to be the sheep we are expecting others to be. My resolution, therefore, is to find one activity where I am just a face in the crowd. Perhaps I'll volunteer to be an assistant Little League coach, or will join an online Bible study. Anything where I can just show up and follow along.

3. I resolve to dialogue more with those of a different political perspective than mine.

These days, it seems that the left and right sides of the political spectrum live in completely different worlds. It's quite possible for us to never talk with anyone outside of our own partisan bubble, or to only do so by hurling anger and insults. In the past couple of years, I have developed a few relationships on Facebook where I can have civil conversations across the political divide. It can get passionate, but we strive to keep it respectful. And most importantly, we seek not just to "win" the argument, but to find some sort of common ground that can move the conversation forward. My resolution is to intentionally develop several more of these relationships, as I believe they are the key to our nation overcoming this partisan warfare that is having so many detrimental effects.

4. Instead of helping people in need, I resolve to connect people that help people in need.

In every community, there are plenty of people who are working in various ways to do compassionate ministries. Usually, the challenge is not getting people motivated to help, but in coordinating those who are already trying to do something. This is an urgent need in my town, so I am resolving to spend my outreach efforts in 2014 on working with the Ministerial Association and other civic groups to come up with some sort of directory of services. I hope this coordinating effort will point out some of the holes in our area's safety net - which can then be addressed.

5. I resolve to revive an old area of interest that represents my youthful ideals.

 It is inevitable that as we grow older, some of our strongly held beliefs about life are tempered by the realities of actually living life. But sometimes in our path toward wisdom and maturity, we can get sidetracked into jaded cynicism. Which is why, as we move throughout our adult lives, it is important to occasionally resurrect some of those forgotten passions.

Soon after I was ordained, I developed a strong interest in writing about consumerism and the needs for Christians to live disciplined lifestyles that promote economic and environmental justice. It was the culmination of an ethic that I had been developing throughout my time in college and seminary. I published a blog and even a short series of magazines on the subject - but it seemed it was not the right time for the church to hear the message.

2014, however, might find a more receptive faith culture. So, as my final and most exciting resolution, I am going to revive my work in a new and updated format. My first step will be to republish some of my old work on this blog - and then to evaluate what has and has not changed in the last decade. It should be fun!


Have a Happy New Year, y'all!

Unhelpful Myth #1: The Church Is Dying

(No one disputes the fact that Christianity in America is declining numerically. Enough has been written about this already, and I don't have anything to add to the conversation except to point out some unhelpful myths that this shrinking reality is producing. These myths are causing undue anxiety and are preventing us from embracing the wonderful new things God is bringing out of this situation.) 

Myth #1: The Church is Dying.

All we have to do is take a look at national trends in membership, or how young people occupy our pews so sparsely compared to gray hairs, or how few baptisms we're performing compared to funerals - and it seems logical to predict that the once-great Protestant church in America will be no more in 50 years or so.

But if we broaden our historical view and reject the impulse to compare today's church to the "glory days" of 1960. And if we take an approach that is more Biblical than business-like in how it defines success, then we will see that despite the steadily declining numbers, the church is far from dying.

From it's very beginning, the story of God's people is about growing and contracting. It's a steady pattern of great numerical strength in one era, followed by a difficult time of winnowing and transition, followed by startling new growth in the next era. Surely we are not the first people in that long history to feel the burden of being called to faithfulness in a time when God is shrinking us. Surely we are not the first to feel the grief of something great coming to an end, and then to transfer that grief to think that God's people and perhaps even God himself are dying.

But we can take great comfort and hope that this is not the first time we have faced decline, and that The Holy Spirit will surely bring us back in a way that is both surprising and glorious. Just ask the great prophets of the Old Testament who lived through the loneliness and isolation of exile, but somehow mustered the hope to write the beautiful words that pointed toward the coming of Christ. Surely, their faith and hope can convince us that our difficult period is not about the church dying, but rather about it getting smaller and then reemerging as something new.

But if we are convinced we are dying, and if we succumb to the anxiousness that precedes anticipated death, then we will not be receptive to new things. Our eyes will be dimmed, and our hearts will focus only on what we are losing, not on what can now be gained.

It's just as Isaiah 43:18-19 proclaims:

"Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing: now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."

Moving Beyond "Us vs. Them"

 

In the 1980’s, a catchy ad campaign emerged from a beer company. The premise was simple. Two groups of people would shout back and forth the two features of the beer the company wanted us to remember:

“Tastes great!”

 “Less filling!” 

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

As the campaign gained steam, the debate began to spontaneously emerge at sporting events. A couple of people would start the shouting, and it would spread like wildfire until it was half of the stadium versus the other half:

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

“Tastes great!”

Less filling!”

The willingness of so many people to jump into the debate was a brilliant source of free advertising, and also a good lesson in crowd psychology. Many of the folks who were shouting never drank that brand of beer and had no actual opinion on the two choices set before them. It was just something fun to do at the ballgame. The debate could have been Mickey Mouse vs. Donald Duck, and people would have joined in just as gleefully.

The point is this: People are drawn to a clear “us vs. them” argument, and will readily conform to the two choices that are presented  – even when those choices are not very relevant or useful. It happens all the time in our national politics.

Conservative vs. liberal. Democrat vs. Republican. Socialism vs. free market. Gun control vs. gun rights. Pro-life vs. pro-choice.  Pro-Israel vs. Pro-Palestine. And so on and so forth. Every election, every issue, and every movement is forced into an oversimplified “us vs. them” duality where people can make their choice as easily as they decided whether to shout “Tastes great!” or “Less filling!” It’s a process which engages and inflames the American people against one another, but which does no justice to the amazingly complicated political and cultural landscape we find ourselves inhabiting.

As a result, we end up shouting at one another about which party is to blame for a manufactured government shutdown; or over a proposed gun control law that will do nothing to address our real problems with violence;  or over a new health care law that leaves untouched the fundamental structures of a broken system. And we eagerly jump into these largely irrelevant debates using the simple categories that are presented to us:

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

Unfortunately, it’s not much different in the church. As Christians move into a 21^st-century reality that is complicated, uncertain, and somewhat frightening, we find ourselves falling into the same types of “us vs. them” struggles.

Many of these struggles revolve around the “liberal vs. conservative” division that has defined the last few centuries of Protestant history. Most recently, this conflict has erupted around the issue of LGBT ordination, and its reality is a complicated mix of theological, cultural, political, and historical forces.

There are a lot more than two ways to think about the issue, depending on one’s context and personal experience. A conversation that is helpful and moves the issue forward will be sensitive to the multiplicity of perspectives and will not devolve an “us vs. them” shouting match.

Too easily, however, the conversation is about “those who love gays vs. those who hate gays,” or “those who believe in the Bible vs. those who don’t.” It’s a reductionism that inhibits the discovery of creative solutions, and it is reflected in the way church governing bodies tend to discuss issues - with a “for” microphone on one side and an “against” microphone on the other.

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

But beyond the hot-button political issues such as LGBT rights, the church falls into the “us vs. them” mentality on topics of the general future of the church, topics for which a simplistic duality is the least helpful way to think about things. Here’s an example:

In the last year, an emotional debate has erupted in the Presbyterian Church (USA) about changes being made to the medical and pension plans offered to clergy. The Board of Pensions, in response to rising medical costs and other pressures, announced that it would be ending the practice of fully covering all dependents. Essentially, this meant that younger clergy and smaller churches would be shouldering the burden of the changes. After an intense and focused outcry, the Board modified its change, reducing some of the additional burden, but not all of it.

What was telling about the controversy was not the details of the proposed changes, however.  It was the nature of the debate that ensued. It got quite polarized and quite ugly as insults like “uncaring, out of touch, and whiners” were hurled back and forth. Is was a clear reflection of the larger generational conflict happening in our culture.

And even though I strongly believe the changes are unfair to younger clergy, I am also disappointed that the conversation devolved into an “us vs. them” dynamic. There are many complicating factors to the Presbyterian pension situation, and there are multiple points of view that all have valid contributions to make.

Perhaps if we could set aside the compulsion to divide into warring factions, we would find that the ultimate answer to our pension woes is not found in an “us vs. them” debate about how we tinker with the current system. Perhaps we are being called to set aside the dualities that color our perceptions, and to seek to create together a very different sort of system. But because we are so programmed to line up on opposite sides of the river and throw rocks at one another, it is often difficult to get past the two simplistic categories that first present themselves.

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

“Tastes great!”

“Less filling!”

It’s a lot of fun to do this at a baseball game.  But many of us have long since grown weary of trying to move forward in our nation and in the church in this fashion. There is another way.

             

Bivocational Ministry: Let's Think Twice

I'll admit my bias up front. My father has been a full-time minister all his life, and it looks like I will do the same. Which means that, except for one very difficult year when I tried to be a professional musician, I will never know any reality except financial dependence on the church. In some ways, this explains my uneasiness with all the talk lately about bivocational ministry.

Bivocational ministry is simply when a pastor holds a job outside the church to help pay the bills. It's not a new concept, and in fact it's been the norm for most of Protestant history. But it is a new and scary concept to many in today's mainline churches. We've grown accustomed to career clergy and to paying them well enough to be the sole support for middle class families.

As economic stagnation and the decline of the church in America have become realities, this assumption of professional clergy is changing. Many congregations that once afforded a well-paid full-time minister are now going the bivocational route. Others are joining up with neighboring churches for a "yoked" parish that usually pays the bare minimum to an overworked minister. What this means is that fewer pastors can now afford to support a middle class family.

But that's not necessarily a bad thing. As I have discussed this issue with my friends and colleagues, there have been strong points made both for and against the shift to bivocational ministry. So I will try to set my personal bias aside, and present an even-handed look at the pros and cons.

Pro: Resources once used for salary and benefits for the pastor can now be shifted to ministries. If I went to half my salary and no benefits, it would save my church about $40,000 - no small chunk of change!

Con: At least in the wealthier denominations like my PCUSA, lack of resources is not the issue. Regional and national governing bodies could, if they desired, make sure that all but the smallest churches have full-time clergy. The fact that many small churches are struggling to afford a pastor is more a reflection of our polity and our attitudes than our poverty. One could even make the argument that the church is reflecting society with issues of stratification of wealth.

Pro: Bivocational ministry reduces the gap between clergy and laity. One of the central problem of the 20th-century church is that it became clergy-centric. Ministers gained too much power and influence, while the people in the pews became passive and disinterested. Having a minister who is out there in the world scratching for a living like everyone else puts us on a more level playing field, and it allows for greater investment of lay people in leading the church.

Con: A minister who is not financially dependent on his position will tend to favor the job he depends on. For example, what happens when there needs to be a funeral on a Tuesday, but the minister can't get away from his day job? More to the point, will a minister trying to split her loyalties between family, church, and her other job be able to bring as much energy and passion on a daily basis as one who is fully committed to the church? Will the sermon be an afterthought thrown together on a Saturday afternoon, instead of something wrestled with and refined over a week full of pastoring?

Pro: Not being financially dependent on ministry removes much of the temptation toward careerism. One of the most salient criticisms of pastors is that they care more about "climbing the ladder" and landing a big-steeple church than serving God. A bivocational minister can joyfully serve whatever congregation they are called to without having to balance tough decisions about family financial needs.

Con: Being a pastor who has to balance those financial needs is an important part of spiritual growth. The people in the pews constantly wrestle with questions of faith, financial insecurity, and how to balance the selfish desire for career success with how to live a Christian life. Why should pastors be exempted from the temptation of careerism? As pastors struggle with it, they can better minister to parishioners who struggle with it.

Pro: Congregations have different expectations of full-time pastors. Every full-time minister has felt the pressure to perform in a certain way because the church invests so much in them. Pastors that earn a modest part-time salary enjoy more freedom to speak prophetically and to lead in ways that church members might not desire.

Con: Being financially dependent on the congregation gives the pastor accountability. There are many unpleasant aspects of ministry that can easily be discounted if one doesn't feel that pressure of, "This is my job, I have to do it." Full-time accountability also helps balance the power between clergy and laity, as that financial tether is sometimes the only thing that prevents a pastor from heading in a direction that the church might not be ready for.

There are more pros and cons, but those are the ones I feel are most relevant. We need to carefully consider these points before we go too much further down this road.

My central concern is that bivocational is becoming a trend because of economic reasons, not missional ones, and that we are not carefully considering the consequences. These decisions are being made at the congregational level as churches struggle with the painful reality of budgets that no longer allow for the cost of a full-time pastor. Letting go of this is often more difficult than the decision to close the doors altogether, and we shouldn't take lightly what this shift does to the psychology of a congregation.

I hope we can be more intentional at the higher levels of the church to decide with intention whether bivocational ministry is what is best for the body in the long run.

A More Intentional Online Community

As I emerge from my annual Twitter rant about how skewed our celebration of Labor Day has become, I am struck by the example of the Clapham Circle. Working about 200 years ago in England, they were a close-knit group of social justice activists led by William Wilberforce.

The Clapham Circle lived in close community about six miles outside of London, and they lived and breathed efforts to improve the lives of the poor and oppressed. They achieved the end of the British Slave trade, better conditions for the working class, and even the first animal humane society.

As I consider their amazing accomplishments, I wonder if justice-minded people of faith today need to emulate their commitment to community - to intentional, comprehensive community that goes deeper than sharing a common cause. 

There are countless organizations working for the poor and the working class today, and those that are focused on local issues seem to be quite successful. This is because these groups don't just talk about the issues together. They go to church together. They raise their families together. They are with one another for baptisms, weddings, and funerals. In short, their lives are shared in all dimensions, not just on political and social activism.

There are also countless networks and groups working for justice on the larger issues, as the Clapham Circld did. But in my experience, these groups are more fractured and haphazard. There are conferences to attend, and online conversations to join - but the wholistic closeness of the local group is not there. At times, it can be hard to tell who is really part of a community and who is not, and even how to define the parameters and goals of online groups that form in such undefined ways.

Several times, I have seen plans for ambitious justice movements get hatched in such communities, only to find they never come to fruition because of overriding commitments in our local communities. Certainly this barrier to launching effective campaigns such as the Clapham Circle did has existed throughout history - but it seems the nature of online communication is intensifying the challenge. Perhaps a little more intentionality to organize will help us get over this hump.

Obviously, living in the same geographic space and making forays into the nearby halls of power is no longer the way to organize for justice - or maybe it still is? Who knows? But we are in new territory here, and we need to find ways to foster that wholistic sharing of our lives - not just our social and political convictions.

How that is best done, I cannot say. There are some online groups who are being intentional about taking their fellowship to a more personal level, who are beginning to act more like a church family than a professional organization. My hope is that we can continue to build our relationships beyond where they are today, and that we can think creatively and purposefully about this powerful new tool for connecting that we possess.

Talk With Your Children About Racism, Poverty, and Dr. King

When I was in the third grade, I sat next to an African American girl. I can't remember her name, but I remember very clearly the day she didn't show up for class. We all assumed she was sick, but about three hours into the day she suddenly appeared at the door, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What's going on?" the teacher asked.

"I missed the bus, and I had to walk to school!" the girl stammered, choking back the sobs.

At this, the teacher quickly called for the office, and an aide came and took the girl away. About an hour later, she returned and took her seat next to me. She was no longer in tears, but obviously still upset. She sat quietly for the rest of the day, and no one in the class - including the teacher - said another word about what had happened.

Only as I grew older did I put the pieces together:

This girl was one of the students bussed from the inner city of Greenville, SC out to the suburbs where I lived. Her walk was about 6-8 miles on busy city streets. Think about that for a second.
And think about why a scared 8-yr old decided to make that journey instead of going home or to a neighbor's house. These days, I can understand the social realities that frame this story, and I can see that deep-seated issues of poverty and racism contributed to the circumstances that led to her dangerous decision.

That incident happened 20 years after The March on Washington and Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech, and in some ways it indicates improvement. My elementary school in the Deep South was integrated, after all. But in other ways, it indicates how far we have to go with education and awareness - even today.

Looking back on that day, it strikes me that the white kids had no idea what had happened. We didn't know how far away she lived, and we didn't think to ask why we weren't being bussed into her neighborhood instead. We didn't know that she had been taken to see a social worker, and that she had gone into state custody the minute school was out. Most importantly, we didn't consider that our sheltered suburban upper middle class lives were not the lives that some of the kids in our class were living.

Perhaps this is where we can turn a corner on the racism and the classism that is so persistent in our culture. Perhaps we need to give children the opportunity to understand and process the social realities around them, instead of presenting the world as some fairy tale bubble of abundance and equality to get burst at age 15, or 25, or 45, or never.

I was fortunate that I grew up in a family where social issues were common topics at the dinner table. But even I grew up with a level of naivete and ignorance about the problems being endured by the kid who sat right next to me - a naivete that can translate all to easily into adult attitudes of callousness and denial about poverty and race.

So tonight, I am going to gather my two boys - ages 7 and 8 - and watch the "I Have A Dream" speech with them. The whole speech. And then, I'm going to ask questions and listen, and help them get a better understanding of the reality many of their classmates in our desperately poor rural county in Virginia are facing. I encourage us all to do the same. 

It's Not About Us, Part 3 - Beyond the Institutions

In a recent evangelism meeting at my church, I tried to explain the concept of "third places." Most people have three places in their lives where they spend most of their time - home (first place), work (second place), and whatever their third place is. It can be a bowling alley, a pub, the YMCA - anywhere they spend a significant amount of time and find fellowship and a sense of belonging.

I encouraged each person at the meeting to think about their own third places (other than church) and the opportunities that might exist there for sharing the good news in a non-threatening way. Describing the youth baseball and soccer fields where most of the young families in my community spend time, I mused on the possibilities to reach people who either had lapsed from their faith or had never been part of a church.

The eyes in the room lit up as folks considered the potential. Immediately the comments emerged: "I always thought we had so few kids in worship because we don't have any kids in this town. But they are obviously out there." "That would be great if we could get some of them to come here on Sunday." "Imagine all those kids coming forward for the children's sermon!"

I tried not to sigh audibly. I had just spent 10 minutes describing some of the successful "New Worshiping Communities" of the Presbyterian denomination's new initiative.  It seeks to create non-traditional ministries that don't center around a Sunday service or the church building.

They had been enthused by the stories of a coffee shop that hosts Bible studies and raises funds for mission; a pub ministry that gets skeptical 20-somethings to talk about faith; and a running club that creates Christian fellowship among folks who aren't otherwise coming to church. "Why," I thought to myself, "can't these people think beyond their own institutional survival and see the bigger picture?"

But before I got too exasperated, I remembered that my thinking on this matter has only recently changed. Until about a year ago, I would have responded to such an opportunity with the same focus on boosting our own worship attendance and membership. My involvement on a regional-level committee has allowed me to explore the concept of evangelism in a deeper way. Before then, I too would have seen all these great new ministries out in communities as merely a means to an end - not as legitimate new churches in and of themselves.

So the challenge for traditional churches like mine is this: How do we encourage folks to think more deeply about the changing times and the need for adaptive strategies? How do we help one another move past those reflexive responses that measure 21st century ministries by 20th century standards?

Most importantly, how do we remind one another that the call to share the good news is a call for us to sacrifice ourselves and our preferences for the larger sake of the Gospel; to understand that the preservation of the institutions we love is not the ultimate point; to realize that in so many ways, "it's not about us." 

It's Not About Us, Part 2 - (The Church Yearns for Freedom)

(This is the second article in a series.)

The church is trapped, and the church yearns for freedom. We are trapped by many things:

1) Anxiety over declining membership and shrinking budgets.
2) Grief over closing and/or losing congregations.
3) Fear that our entire denomination is dying a slow, painful death.
4) Concern that the Christian church in general is becoming unpopular and irrelevant.

When confronted with these realities, we tend to turn inward to find explanations and solutions, which only leads to more anxiety. If only, goes the thinking, we had better pastoral leadership, or more relevant worship services, or more dynamic education programs, or stronger evangelism techniques, or hipper seminaries, or sleeker Presbytery structures, or snappier mission statements, or catchier denominational slogans, etc., etc. - then, we could attract back all those precious young people we never see on Sunday mornings. When these solutions don't work, or only partially work, we fall back into the cycle of anxiety and being trapped.

But as soon as we can realize that "it's not about us," and that we can be at peace with those realities, then we can move toward the freedom that God wants for us. Imagine how great it would feel to be freed from the following chains:

1) Weekly fretting over how many people come to worship or Sunday school.
2) Angst over the fact that most of the congregation is over the age of 40, or 50, or 60.
3) Constant fear that giving is going to fall short of the budget.
4) Worry about the cost of maintenance for an aging building.
5) Sadness that the Presbytery will need to close a few more congregations this year.
6) Anger at churches that are leaving to find another denomination.
7) Dismay over articles on negative cultural attitudes toward Christianity.

As important as these concerns might seem to us (especially #3), none of them represent the reason God called the church into being. Nowhere in the New Testament are we told that the purpose of the church is to maintain programs, buildings, budgets, congregational charters, and the reputation of our faith in the wider culture.

Instead, we are called to spread the good news of Jesus Christ in word and deed. Period. We are called to feed the hungry, comfort the lonely, heal the sick, visit those in prison, and speak out for justice and peace - all the while proclaiming our faith in Christ. Unfortunately, our anxiety and our helplessness over the loss of these other non-essential things have become the chains that keep us from proclaiming Christ. Which is why it is so important for the church and the people in it to make peace with the changing realities.

If our membership declines, even to the point we must find smaller facilities, then so be it!

If we must close some congregations, or even the majority of them, then so be it!

If our denomination becomes much smaller, or merges with others, or even perishes, then so be it!

If the Christian church in America becomes a minority, an outside voice in a secular culture, then so be it!

It's not that we want any of these things to happen, but rather that we can accept them and move forward in faith should they be God's will. The history of God's people is full of many amazing stories of rise and decline, and God has never failed to bring God's people through lean times into a future of great abundance.

The church is currently trapped by our disbelief in God's power over the present realities. Only when we are freed from our crippling anxieties can we be free to follow the Holy Spirit to the place God has prepared.

It's Not About Us (Or Why Declining Church Attendance Is Not Such A Crisis)

One of the best pieces of advice a young pastor can hear is this: "It's not about you. When a church member stops attending, it more often than not has nothing to do with the pastor - so try not to take it personally."

Perhaps the larger church, as we struggle with why our overall participation is waning, could follow the same advice.

Why aren't young people coming like they used to? In all our collective hand-wringing, perhaps the best answer is one we haven't considered: It's simply not about us.

Perhaps it has nothing to do with how relevant we are, what style of worship we use, how hypocritical we might seem, or anything that has to do with us and the way we do things. Perhaps it has everything to do with how the world beyond the church has changed, and not necessarily for the worse.

 

We need to get over our ego-centrism that tells us that the church is still at the center of the culture, and that if someone doesn't go, it means they have rejected us and rejected God. We need to get past the arrogant notion that we are the only place people can find spiritual truth and community. And we need to bury the all too-common belief that people are hopelessly lost without us, that they are miserable until they stumble through our doors - especially since much of the pain and alienation in the world has been caused by us.

Instead, let us be honest about the fact that the church is not for everyone. Some folks are better off the day they walk out our doors and never come back. In today's fast-paced, high-tech, postmodern, and globalized culture, we are merely one among many options that are out there for people to find fellowship and spiritual connection, and it's time we get real about the fact that we no longer hold a monopoly. If we expect to return to 1955 levels of membership, and then look inward for explanations when we don't achieve them, we are destined for disappointment, disillusionment, and defeatism.

Perhaps, then, we shouldn't beat ourselves up because the world has changed and so has our place in it. Perhaps we should just remain true to our faith and our traditions, interpreting them for new generations with new ideas and practices the best we can.

As a young pastor, it took me several difficult years of self-doubt and second guessing before I realized that Sunday attendance was not a function of the quality of work I was doing. It was more a reflection of the changing times. My role was to be adaptive, and to shape the ministry of the church in such a way to nourish those whom we could reach. The same principles apply to the larger church.

So the next time we are tempted to get down about slumping statistics, let us remember that sage advice. "It's not about us." And let us witness to the love and grace of Christ with a little more joy, and a little less despair.

Don't Go To Church - Come to the Party!

At this morning's worship service, the theme was the Parable of the Great Dinner from Luke 14 - that beautiful story where the invited guests are too busy to come to the party, so the host sends his servants out into the streets to bring in the poor, the sick, the lame, and the blind.

Every time I read this parable, I imagine the astounded looks on the faces of the "uninvited" guests who get to enjoy this magnificent feast. I picture the overwhelming joy and gratitude they must have felt to have been given this purely unexpected blessing.

So this morning, when I told this story during the children's sermon, I asked them to describe what the best party ever would be like. Then I asked them to imagine how amazing it would feel to actually get to go to that party. My intention was to get them to understand how great it is that the Kingdom of God invites everyone to an awesome party that is even better than the one that they imagined.

But as I sent the children back to their seats, and then proceeded through the routine of the rest of the service, it hit me square between the eyes that what I had just asked the children to do - to respond to God's grace with overwhelming joy and gratitude - is something that very few of us
adults do, at least in traditional mainline churches.

How many of us - clergy or lay person - come to worship feeling the joy, the awe, and the sheer astonishment at being invited to the Lord's Table? How many of us sing songs of praise, confess our sins, accept our forgiveness, and hear the Word of the Lord with as much enjoyment and as much zest as we would feel at a magnificent banquet?

I have known a few who sincerely feel this much joy in worship, but they are the exceptions rather than the rule. If we are realistic, don't we have to admit that the majority of folks in the pews (and in the pulpit) range somewhere between mild interest and sheer boredom? Don't we have to agree that duty and obligation are much more common motivations than overwhelming joy for people to come to worship?

This is not to say that most people in our churches are not people of sincere faith and commitment. I believe that almost all are. But for churches that still rely on the Sunday morning worship service as their central and defining practice, perhaps it is time for us to ask why our central and defining practice is one that so many people find so un-joyful. Perhaps it is time to ask why, even among our most faithful membership, skipping worship is becoming more and more of a common and acceptable thing to do.

Which brings me back to this morning's service. What I realized in asking the children to think of the Kingdom of God as an awesome party is that we as God's people have forgotten how to party. Or more accurately, we have forgotten how to make worship a party. We are like the invited guests in that parable who were overly occupied with their duties and obligations, and we have forgotten how to lay all that aside and just come to the table with open-hearted exultation.

This, I believe, is one of the chief reasons we have lost a generation and a half of young people. It's not that they don't believe in God, or don't desire the spiritual truth of the Bible, or don't hunger for God's grace. It's that the worship we tend to produce (produce, and not proclaim) does not reflect the overwhelming joy and gratitude that we feel for being called to God's table.

So whether we need to create new worship forms, whether we need to recharge the old forms, or whether we need to bring worship out into the world and into mission will be different in each context. But however we respond to the stifling reality of being "The Frozen Chosen," we need to make our worship a party. Indeed, we need to make everything we do a party. We need to make it the best party the world has ever seen.

From The Pulpit: Uninvited

(An excerpt from my sermon preached on July 21, 2013. The text is Luke 14:14-25, The Parable of the Great Dinner.)

... As much as this parable is about God giving a warning to those who are invited not to miss the great dinner, it is more so about God finding a way for the uninvited to get there. The main characters are not the three who miss the banquet because they are too busy, but instead are those who get to come in their place. At its core, this parable is about the inclusion of the excluded: the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame, and those who have nothing better to do than wander aimlessly in the streets.

From their perspective, and from the perspective of those who are excluded in our society, this is not a challenging story at all. It is a beautiful story, a story of hope, a story of promise, and a story of freedom that gives them assurance that the coming of God’s Kingdom will not leave them behind.

If we look through the history of the Bible and the history of our own nation, it is breathtaking to realize just how many times God has made manifest the inclusion of the uninvited - and how much God is doing the same thing today.  If we are willing to look for it, and if we are willing to work for it, we will see similar glimpses of the Kingdom whenever those who are accustomed to being on the outside are invited in and given a seat at the table.  

This parable boldly proclaims this good news of liberation for all of those groups who face prejudice and exclusion. But it’s also good news for those who might feel uninvited on a more individual basis. Some of us might identify with the invited group, but at times - because of difficult circumstances in our lives, or because we find ourselves in a place where we don’t fit in - at times we feel like we have personally been uninvited from the table of God’s blessing. Sometimes, we feel like we are left wandering alone in the street while the party is going on inside without us.

So the good news is that God’s grace invites us all in, and that God’s love is especially given for those who feel separated, for whatever reason, from the glorious Kingdom that is being brought forth in our midst.

So the challenge that this Parable of the Great Dinner gives us is to be watching and to be ready for the unknown times when the Kingdom breaks forth, and to work today to include those who are uninvited. But the good news that lies beyond this challenge is so much greater. For the eternal party that God is throwing invites us all, insider and outsider, rich and poor, healthy and sick, seeing and blind, able-bodied and lame, busy and wandering. What a great party this is going to be!

 

Compassion, Not Judgment

(I am the pastor of a small-town church in southern Virginia, still somewhat of a hotspot for racist tensions. This morning, I felt compelled to address from the pulpit the verdict in the George Zimmerman/Trayvon Martin case. I had already prepared a prophetic sermon about judging the poor based on Matthew 20:1-16, so I decided to insert the following remarks before the Scripture reading:)


A few times from this pulpit, I have spoken about the increasing divisiveness that we are seeing in our nation – divisions that are political, economic, and racial. This summer, every time we turn on the news, it seems like something controversial and polarizing is being announced – whether it comes from the Supreme Court, from Congress, from the White House, from state legislatures, or – as we learned late last night – from a jury.

The announcement of the verdict of the Trayvon Martin case caps off a week that has been particularly polarizing. It seems like we as a nation are so determined to be against one another that we’re just bouncing from story to story continuing the same polarizing fight.

Now I’m not going to pretend that I know whether George Zimmerman is guilty or not. But the case has been a flashpoint for racial tensions, and I stand with my African American friends as I see in them the struggle, the pain, and the fear that is still a reality of their existence. No matter how we feel about this one high-profile case, we can all agree that racial divisions are still strong in this nation. We are far from realizing The Dream that Martin Luther King spoke of, and we are called to work in Christ-like ways to bring peace and justice to our nation at a time when it seems so much of our unity is fracturing.

One of the biggest things we can do to be an agent of peace and justice is to pay attention to the lesson of today’s parable. It is about some workers in a vineyard, and about their quickness to stand in judgment of others. The lesson Jesus is giving is that we are to approach our fellow human beings not with judgment, but with love and compassion.

 

In our divided times, standing in judgment of others is what we see too often. Working to defeat one another and condemn one another seems to be the rule of the day.  So let us now listen to the words of Christ from Matthew 20, where he calls us to a different path.

 

(After the service, I was greeted with many positive reactions to my words. One woman whom I feared would be angry with me told me a story about her grandson and his African American friend being stopped and searched by police. She thanked me for speaking so candidly. I would be grateful for any of your thoughts on these remarks, praise or criticism.)

 

 

Don't Go To Church: Part 3

I love Sundays in the summer. No Sunday school. No committee meetings. No youth group. Nothing but God's people gathering for worship and fellowship. In my mind, it's the way church is supposed to be.

It's not that those other things are unimportant. And it's not that I'm the pastor, and an  uncluttered Sunday meanis less work. For the congregation, too, summer Sundays feel 5different. No one worries much about attendance. The time is less programmed and busy. The mood is
 less performance-oriented
and more presence-oriented.

Most of all, though, what is different about summer Sundays is that the sense of duty, the sense that we are here because we are supposed to be here, is lessened. It's hard to pinpoint exactly why, but this feeling has to do with school being out, with a lot of people travelling, and with a general feeling that summer is a time to let go of the busyness of life and all its obligations. For too many people, including pastors, "going to church" for a Sunday worship service is one of those obligations.

This year, I've been thinking and writing about the need to release church members from this sense of obligation. Enjoying the "duty-free" nature of summer worship has helped me realize that it is possible for a traditional mainline church to make the transition from "I'm supposed to go to worship" to "I want to go to worship." The question for me, and for many of my colleagues, is how we make that feeling stick all year round.

With this goal in mind, here are several alternatives to the "everyone must go on Sunday morning" model. Each one will be expanded in future posts in this series. They all have their pros and cons.

1) Multiple Worship Offerings. Instead of offering one or two services on Sunday that people feel obligated to attend, offer several smaller services at various times and locations throughout the week. Encourage people to find the service that works best for them. Have a "festival worship" once a month or once a quarter where Sacraments can be served and the whole congregation can worship as one.

2) "Get Out Of Worship Free Cards." Give people permission not to attend worship at all, but to become involved in other activities inside or outside the church that connect them to God. Encourage them to attend worship if and when they want to be there.

3) Connect Worship Directly To Acts of Service. Have worship only after engaging in the hands-on mission of the church - whether it's serving at a soup kitchen, visiting a nursing home, or attending a political rally.

4) Join Other Congregations for Worship - Especially ones of different racial, theological, or economic status. Use worship as a time to build bridges, not isolate.

Which of these options appeals to you? Which has the most practical possibility in your church? What other alternatives to "duty-bound" worship might you suggest?

Don't Go To Church - Part 2

Pastors and lay leaders in traditional Protestant churches:

What if we started telling people that we don't mind if they stop coming to Sunday worship?

What if we tell them that we don't want to see their faces at all on Sunday morning, unless they really want to be there?

What if we remove the chains of obligation and tell folks to worship God at other times, in other places, and in different ways if a Sunday morning service isn't authentic and meaningful for them?

 

On the surface, this idea might sound crazy, even heretical. For centuries, the weekly Sunday service has been the backbone of the Protestant faith in America. At one time, attendance was required by law in many places. Even after worship attendance was legally made a choice, it remained compulsory in the mind of the culture. Unlike any other church activity, worship was the one time of the week all church members were supposed to gather.

Sometime in the second half of the 20th century, this compulsory attitude began to loosen. As both church and society became more consumeristic, many people began to see worship attendance as optional. They no longer felt obligated to be "in church" every Sunday, or even a majority of Sundays.

But even as attendance and membership steadily has declined into the 21st century, the compulsory attitude has persisted. It's a vexing paradox that church leaders are noticing. Less and less people are feeling personally motivated to go to worship each Sunday, but the Sunday service is still viewed as the compulsory church activity. As a result, many people are drifting away from church participation altogether, and many others who are unchurched are never giving it a chance, since the one thing that is required is something that has little meaning or authenticity for them.

Therefore, in order to have a shot at reaching these folks, we first need to remove that age-old obligation to attend worship on Sunday morning. Which is why telling folks "Don't Go To Church" might be the best way to bring them to Christ.

Next time, we'll examine some of the ways traditional churches are breaking this worship paradox, and are building new worship experiences based on fellowship and mission.














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Don't Go To Church - Part 1

 

Recently, my Session was inspired by an article entitled, “Don’t Go To Church, Be The Church.” It explained that faith does not consist of occupying a pew on Sunday morning. Faith is about what we do out in the world every day of the week.

But as much as we understand the “don’t go to church, be the church” philosophy, we don't always follow it when we seek new church members.  The goal of evangelism in most churches is quite simply to fill more pews. We might initially attract folks through fellowship or mission activities, but the aim is to parlay that relationship into a regular presence on Sunday morning. In short, despite our own belief in “being the church,” we tell our new folks that what matters is “going to church.”

This disconnect happens because Christianity in America is in a time of transition. For much of the 20^th century, the church and its influence permeated every aspect of society. To speak of “being the church in the world” was nonsensical, since nearly everything and everyone in that world was already Christian. “Going to church” was more appropriate, with the “church” being the building and the worship service itself.

Today, we are moving rapidly into a post-Christian era. Each year, the church grows less and less influential on the culture as a whole. As we move from the center to the periphery, the notion of “being the church, not going to church” begins to make perfect sense. In a culture that largely does not know Christ, the need to be a witness beyond the walls of the church building is suddenly relevant.

In many ways, church members are aware of this transition from Christendom to the post-Christian era. Their laments include the end of prayer in schools, loss of Sabbath, and the fact that many of their neighbors don’t belong to a church and don’t want to. Essentially, they are in a prolonged grief process over the death of Christendom.

Most often, though, the change that concerns them the most is that their 20- and 30-something children don’t go to church anymore.  This is where the disconnect becomes most pronounced, and where it ties back into the way we approach evangelism. The way we think about attracting new members suffers from the same deficiency as the way we think about the younger generations that the church is losing.  

On the one hand, there is the recognition that the changing times call for a new philosophy of “being the church” - which points to a whole new realm of new strategies and practices.  On other hand, however, and at the points where the transition becomes most emotional, the tendency is to revert to the old understanding that “going to church,” that presence in Sunday worship, is what defines our faith.

(In Part 2, I will examine one way we can overcome the old attitude of “going to church.” We can give folks permission not to attend Sunday worship.)

From The Pulpit: The Growth in God's Kingdom

(This excerpt is from a sermon preached on June 16, 2013. It is based on the Parable of the Growing Seed from Mark 4: 26-29.)

... It’s a very comforting parable, because it reminds us that the Kingdom is not ours – it’s God’s; and therefore, the growth of the Kingdom is not our responsibility. We are called to participate, but we don’t make it happen. God does. Which means that we don’t have to be meticulous about understanding and controlling every aspect of our faith lives the way we are about securing our homes at night.

But often, when it comes to our discipleship and when it comes to the church, we feel like we do have to exert that kind of control over things. We often feel like we do have to keep the doors locked and unwanted intruders out. We feel like we do have to keep the temperature well-regulated so no one gets too hot or too cold. And we feel like we do have make sure all the lights are turned off when we want to sleep, especially that pesky closet light that shines right in on our pillow.

Now of course I’m not referring to the literal church building when I make this comparison. This challenge that the Parable of the Growing Seed gives is not a reminder to the Property Committee to check all the locks and thermostats and light bulbs. It’s a challenge for all of us to check the ways in which we are trying to lockdown our faith, be in control of everything, and  keep the Holy Spirit from doing anything unexpected; versus the ways we can relinquish that control, open ourselves up to the Spirit, and be surprised by the growth that God is creating. 

And what better real-life example of this do we have right now than an actual garden? I’m referring, of the course, to the Lake Country Community Garden, which got started this spring and embodies the lessons of today’s parable. Remember what Jesus said:

“The Kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and  rise night and day, and how the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know.” Now in the literal sense, this parable does not apply to the Community Garden, because it been planted by experts using sophisticated irrigation and pest control, and it has been meticulously maintained by a strong team of volunteers.

But in the metaphorical sense, the story of how the Garden was born is all about the unplanned and uncontrollable growth of God’s Kingdom. Bill would be happy to share with you the full story; but the way that the idea was conceived, hit an early roadblock, and then exploded in a different different direction shows us that this is truly God’s work. We can understand it and control it no more than we can control the weather. We are simply called to scatter the seeds, to watch the Kingdom grow as we rise and as we sleep, and then to come together to enjoy the benefits of the harvest.

Later in the summer, we plan on bringing together all of the churches who are involved in the Community Garden and with Backpack Buddies – which is another new ministry that has exploded in unanticipated ways – and having a special service of thanks and praise to God. When we do this, we will understand that while it is a good idea to lockdown and secure our homes and our families each night, it is not such a good thing to try to secure and control the growth of the God’s Kingdom. May the harvest bring us joy and peace. Amen.

 

 

Letter to the Editor: Supporting Youth With the Courage to Speak

(This letter was published in the Mecklenburg Sun, a weekly newspaper in my hometown of Clarksville, VA.)

To the Editor:                                                                                                  March 19, 2013

On March 18, I attended the Mecklenburg County School Board meeting. The key issue on the table was the schedule changes that are being implemented next year. Since I am not an educator, I do not know whether the changes will ultimately benefit or hurt our schools, but being in the room that night helped me to realize one very positive thing.

At least two dozen students from both Parkview and Bluestone High were present. About six of them had the courage to stand and speak during the public input time. Several talked about the band program, sharing how much it means to them and how the proposed changes might prevent them from continuing to participate. One shared similar concerns about the agriculture and automotive programs.

Each student spoke articulately and with passion, a testament to both the education they have been receiving and their own personal character and determination. They are not demonstrating the potential to be leaders, but the fact that they are already leaders. They are standing up to fight for what they believe is right, which is perhaps the most important lesson a young person can learn. I applaud all of the students who took time on a Monday night to sit through a School Board meeting and make their voices heard.

Again, I have no way of knowing whether the decision to change the schedule was the right decision, but I do know that I feel good about our future. I encourage these students not to get discouraged because this decision did not go their way. I hope you will stand and speak with just as much passion when the next issue that moves your heart comes along.

 

Sincerely,

Rev. James E. Moss

                                                                                                       

Stop and Start: 6 Ways For Churches To Rethink Evangelism

1) Stop hoping that a few signs around town, or an ad in the newspaper, or a snappy-looking website, or a banner saying "All Are Welcome!" is going to attract a lot of people.

Start telling people how much you love your church, why you are so excited about what God is doing there, and how much you would love them to be a part of it.

2) Stop telling young adults, "you ought to be in church." Most have no such feeling of obligation, so trying to appeal to one is not going to work.

Start talking to young adults about their spirituality and where they see God in their lives. Help them connect that to the life of the church.

3) Stop looking at other churches who are growing and thinking that the exact same programs and methods will work in your church.

Start emulating the spiritual habits of churches that are growing and the ways they have opened themselves to the Holy Spirit - which will bring growth, but may or may not lead to similar programs.

4) Stop spending your time and energy trying to maintain programs that nobody seems to have much enthusiasm for.

Start focusing resources on the places where the Spirit is moving and the people are inspired.

5) Stop measuring growth by the number of names on the membership rolls, or the number of people attending worship, or the number of dollars added to the budget.

Start measuring growth by celebrating the ways members are growing in their walk with Christ, and in the ways the church is witnessing to Christ's love in the world.

6) Stop thinking of the task of evangelism as "saving souls for Christ."

Start thinking of it as the task of sharing the good news about Christ and breaking down barriers that keep people from hearing it.

From The Pulpit: Do You Not Percevie it?

                 (This excerpt is from a sermon on Isaiah 43:16-21, preached on March 17, 2013)

 

 

"Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?"  

 

Isaiah's words give us comfort for changing times, and get us motivated to move in response to the new reality that God is creating. Which really is remarkable, because so often our questions about change are questions about whether it should happen or whether God is present in the midst of it.

But Isaiah is asking a completely different question. He is seeing the changes that are already starting to happen, and he is recognizing God’s hand in them - which means that our task in changing times is not to look backwards, but rather to look around today, to discover places where God is working, and to go join in.

 It’s a beautiful reversal of the way we often think about change, but it does come with one caution. Isaiah is not telling us to embrace any and all changes, whether it be in the church or in the larger culture. We must understand that the new things we are looking for are the new things that God is working, not that are coming from the world.

And it’s not always easy to tell the difference. It takes a lot of prayer, a lot of discernment, and a lot of mutual forbearance for the body of Christ to know what to do in changing times. Fortunately, Isaiah gives us a little hint on how we can do that. At the end of today’s passages, he describes what the Godly changes in our world will bring:

“I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert, for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people.” What this means is that when a changing world makes us feel lost, God’s new thing will show us the way. And when a changing world leaves us thirsty and tired, God’s new thing will give us the sustenance that we need.

And here’s the hard part: In the new reality in which we live, we will miss out on God’s guidance and God’s care if we keep looking backward. This doesn’t mean that we don’t honor the past, or that we don’t preserve the things that we still need today. But what it does mean is that God is moving us forward, whether we want to go or not. Staying where we are is simply not an option.

And here’s the Good News: The past is still useful – not to return to, but to learn from and find inspiration in.  Think, for example, about the great historical witness of the Scriptures. Think of all the great characters who are lifted up for their willingness to trust God while God was doing a new thing: Noah, Abraham, Moses, Joshua, David, Mary, and Paul – just to name a few. They all perceived a new thing that God was doing, and they went an joined in. Which is why we still study their stories today.

And then, of course, there’s the story that most completely represents this concept of trusting God to do a new thing. In fact, it is the very story that Isaiah’s prophecy points to – the story of Jesus Christ, and his death and resurrection. On this Fifth Sunday of Lent, as we are almost to the sacred season of Holy Week, reading this prophecy reminds us exactly what God is up to by sending his only Son to die.

In ways none of the Hebrew people could have predicted, Jesus is doing the ultimate new thing. He is fulfilling the covenant given to Abraham. He is accomplishing nothing less than the salvation of the world. He is bringing about the transformation upon which all of human history, and upon which each of our lives, will turn.

So on one level, Isaiah is asking us to look around today and see the new things that God is doing in our lives and in our communities. But in a much deeper way, he is calling us to once again see the great new thing that was done on the cross 2000 years ago, the one new thing that makes possible all of the other new things – the one that all people in all times  and in all places are called to go and join. So the questions is for us is the same as Isaiah’s question: Do we not perceive it?

Is It Time?

Is it time that we repent of our lack of faith that God will supply our needs?

Is it time that we stop making decisions out of anxiety and fear?

Is it time that we stop making decisions as if we, and not the Holy Spirit, have to be in control of things?

Is it time that we stop caring about how much money we have in the bank?

Is it time that we stop caring about how many people sit in our pews?

Is it time that we stop caring whether our institution will be around in 20 years, or 100 years, or tomorrow?

Is it time that we start caring more about the poverty and oppression which increasingly plague our communities?

Is it time that we stop fighting for justice for ourselves while we overlook greater injustices being inflicted on others?

Is it time that we stop viewing stewardship, or the careful management of resources, as such a good thing?

Is it time that we stop believing that God won't replenish, that God won't send manna tomorrow, even though God did today and yesterday and the day before that?

Is it time to be bold, even reckless, in using our vast resources to show the love and justice of Christ?

Is it time to realize that it is unholy for us to save so much for tomorrow when there is so much work to be done today?

Letter to the Board of Pensions

(In October of last year, the Board of Pensions of the Presbyterian Church USA announced a new dues structure to ward off a projected shortfall in revenue. There was much protest to the proposed changes which would potentially place a greater burden on young ministers with families and small churches. In response, the Board pulled back on its plans, and has announced a spate of 5 options to be discussed and voted on in June of this year. Here is the short letter I would like to send to the Board, but feel it might be more appropriate to discuss in other venues:)


Dear Board of Pensions:

The Apostle Paul speaks quite eloquently of the call of Christians to be "in the world, but not of the world." Has the Board considered that all of the options for restructuring dues represent an "of the world" mentality - looking for answers in models adapted from the secular world of finance and insurance, and in models that in fact contribute to the profits of these companies?

This crisis in our pension and health care coverage presents our church with the opportunity to truly make a break and return to a Scriptural model of caring for one another. May I propose that one more option be added where the leaders of the church come together and pool their resources according to the example of Acts 4:32 - "All the believers were of one heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had."

What a witness it would be if the Presbyterian Church displayed to the world that we have made the same kind of commitment to one another as the earliest Christians did!"

In Christ,
Rev. Jim Moss