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.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
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."
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."
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
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.
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.
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.
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