Babel or Pentecost? - Part 1

(This is an article I wrote in 2007 about technology and faith, when I was somewhat of a Luddite. I'm going to re-publish it here in several installments, and then write about how my views have evolved as the age of social media has dawned.)

I have a friend who is a minister and self-professing techno-geek. He loves computers. He builds websites and plays interactive video games. He even co-hosts something called a podcast - which is like a radio show on the Internet.

As long as we've been friends, I've enjoyed getting on his nerves by calling computers evil and by making fun of people who use them a lot. The funny thing is, because of him, I've been much more of a techno person than I ever thought I would. He's even gotten me started on making my own blog.

The two of us have had an ongoing conversation about whether our rapidly advancing technology is a good thing. My friends thinks that the Internet offers new ways for people to make connections and share information, that it strengthens the bonds of human relatinship.

And he's right! We have gained a lot from new technologies, and we will continue to in ways that we cannot even dream about today. But I am cautious about where this progression will ultimately lead us. Maybe I watch too much science fiction, but this rapid acceleration in what computers can do scares me.

And it's not because I think we're going to end up enslaved to machines like in "Terminator" or "The Matrix." My concern has more to do with how our machines have the potential to distract us from God and the creator/creature relationship. My cautionary tale, therefore, is not one of those movies. It's a story that appears in the eleventh chapter of Genesis, and it describes an ancient race of people who unite briefly in glorious technological achievement, but end up scattered and confused. It's the story of Babel...

From the Pulpit: Risky Faith

(This excerpt is from a sermon preached October 16, 2011 - based on I Thessalonians 1:1-10)

The apostles were quite bold in taking risks, but not taking too many. As he travelled from place to place, Paul developed a keen sense of when to aggressively push with the Gospel, and when to retreat and take a more defensive tactic. The Book of Acts details this balance of sound risk-taking as the Christian faith exploded from a disorganized band of 12 disciples into a powerful religion that has changed the scope of world history.

But even more important than imitating the apostle’s risky faith is the fact that they have imitated Christ himself – Paul says “us and the Lord”. Because the apostles didn’t invent their strategy of good risk-taking. They were imitating what Jesus Christ did on the cross. So what Paul is really telling the Thessalonians is that since Christ was not afraid of risks, and was not even afraid being killed, then neither should Christ’s followers be afraid.

Now it might seem strange to say that Christ on the cross was a risk. It might even seem heretical to put it this way, because it implies that God, by sending his only Son into the world, was rolling the dice – that God was not in control of things. It implies that Jesus was just taking a chance and hoping for the best when he started his ministry. And it implies that this risk failed when he was killed.

So what, then, is Paul getting at when he says that we should be imitators of the apostles and of Christ? What does it mean for us to have a “risky faith” that Paul would praise?

Let’s think back to those games of Risk that I played with my brothers, and specifically to my failed strategy. Recall that I played too defensively, always trying to find a safe corner where I could hole up and protect myself. And recall how I always lost, because my brothers would build up bigger armies by being more aggressive. As it turns out, my risk-averse strategy was actually quite risky. By failing to take any risks, I was taking the biggest risk of all. I was guaranteeing that I would not succeed. Just ask anyone who has started a business. They will understand this principle well.

Now apply this principle to the cross. In order for Jesus to succeed, in order for him win our salvation, he had to die and rise again. And in order to be driven to the cross, he had to have a certain level of aggressiveness and risk-taking in his ministry. If he had avoided all danger and all risk, he never would become our Lord and Savior. Therefore, for Jesus to be completely risk-averse would have been the biggest risk of all.

That’s what Paul is talking about when he talks about imitating Christ. He is praising the Thessalonians for not being so timid and so risk-averse that they can’t fulfill the calling that God has given them. They endure labors and persecutions, but persevere to become examples of faith for churches everywhere.

And we are no different. We are called to be imitators of the Thessalonians, imitators of the apostles, and imitators of Christ. We are called to avoid the biggest risk of all, which is not fulfilling our God-given purpose. We are called to find the balance that comes in taking take good risks.

For Jesus, taking good risks involved speaking the truth about the Kingdom of God and challenging the authorities of this time. For Paul and the early Christians, taking good risks meant going into potentially dangerous places and sharing the good news of Christ. What, then, does taking good risks mean for us?

That’s a question that each one of us will answer differently. For some, a good risk is inviting a neighbor to church. For others, a good risk is volunteering for an outreach ministry that seems a little intimidating. For still others, a good risk is speaking up with an opinion that might not be popular with everyone who hears it. And for some, just to show up at church, or at Bible study, or at a Fellowship meal is a risk – but a risk that is worth taking.

But as Paul has shown, and as my boyhood games of Risk have shown, the true risk – the one that we should always avoid taking – is the risk of never taking one. Amen.

Twant: Micro and Macro Change In The Church

(Today I'm going to share something new. I call it a "Twant." Sometimes when I'm on Twitter, I feel the need to expand on a thought expressed in a tweet. And then I add another, and another, until I have a whole series that comes across like a lecture or a rant. Here's a twant I did this morning on the process of change in a congergation. Once I get permission, I'm going to post a Twitter convo I had on the same topic that generated a lot of replies from other tweeters. For more of my tweets, please go to @revjimmoss.)

Had b'fast w/ local Meth and Bapt mins. Had basically same convo on church transformation I had here last night. With contextual flavor!

Our #1 identified challenge: It's not that our churches aren't willing to change. It's that they see the micro and we tend to see the macro.

Put another way. Church members' vision for change is often more immediate, practical - like putting a rock band in worship...

While clergy's is often more abstract, theological. Challenge is how to pull the two together.

Potential conflict: Micro vision of change still sees basic structure, programs of institution as something to preserve. Just with tweaks.

Macro vision sees the need for deeper transformation in whole way the institution looks and functions.

The good news: Carefully done over time, many micro changes can add up to macro change.

The Invisible Barrier

We moved to our new home a little over a year ago. Like most small towns in the South, it is still quite segregated. There are two distinct cultures, and there aren’t many places that they overlap. The public elementary school is an exception. Not only do black and white children attend together – they also mix socially.

When we enrolled our son in the public kindergarten, we were delighted to find that he made friends easily in his diverse class. He is now best friends with Marcus, a black kid who lives in one of the run-down, destitute trailer parks that lie on the edge of town. It's obvious to adults which kids come from the trailer parks and which don't. At least at that age, the kids don't seem to notice.

Every day, our son comes home talking about how Marcus did this, and Marcus said that. They clearly have a close bond. He knows nothing of the different reality that Marcus goes home to each night. They truly are from different worlds. At this young age, however, those different worlds have not yet erected that invisible barrier that keeps segregation and all its consequences in effect - even 40 years after schools were integrated.

When it came time for us to have a birthday party, we realized just how strong that invisible barrier can be. Naturally, our son wanted to invite Marcus to the party. We were dismayed to discover, however, that we had no way to get in touch with Marcus’ parents to extend the invitation.

School regulations prevent the giving out of any personal information about a student, such as a phone number, and the children aren’t allowed to pass out invitations for private parties. We didn’t even have a way to find out Marcus’ last name, short of relying on our son to ask him and remember it when he got home (which didn’t work). And even if we did have his last name, in this day and age, there is a strong chance his legal guardian has a different name.

If it had been a child from our “side of the tracks,” we could have used our social connections to find out who the parents are and extend the invitation – but we simply don’t know anyone from Marcus’ world. The segregation is still that profound. So profound that in a town of a few thousand people, we found it impossible to make a connection with the parents of a child our young son had made such a strong connection with.

As I read books and have conversations with colleagues about how to do effective outreach ministry, the common theme that emerges is “building relationships.” We must get to know the people we wish to reach out to and build friendships and trust. These different worlds will always be separated by that invisible barrier if we can’t share our lives and not just our resources. What better way to begin building such relationships than by celebrating a child’s birthday together?

When we told our son that his best friend couldn’t make it to the party, he cried. My prayer is that this experience isn’t already building his barrier.

From the Pulpit - "Rejoice!"

(An excerpt from my sermon on September 18, 2011)

Think about how joyful the Israelites must have felt when God delivered them from the hands of Pharaoh. And think about how joyful each one of us can feel when we understand how we’ve been forgiven and saved by the grace of Jesus Christ. We can truly rejoice! We, too, can sing out loud, and jump up and down for joy just as the Psalmist describes the people of Israel doing.

But how many of us have ever done that? How many of us have gotten so excited about God’s grace that we literally erupted into song and dance? How many times, in our worship service, has the confession and the declaration of forgiveness been a time for unrestrained rejoicing instead of just a recitation of words? And how often in our everyday lives do we burst forth with visible joy because of the mercy we receive in Jesus Christ. Perhaps we’ve had a moment or two in our lives where we were profoundly affected by a realization of God’s grace – but how many of us make true rejoicing a regular spiritual practice?

In our church, and in many Presbyterian churches, we tend to take more of the stoic approach. We often make the argument that highly emotional expressions of faith can be done merely for show, or are the result of getting caught up in a moment. Often, such expressions are not a sign of deep, personal happiness. Jumping up and down and shouting “Praise Jesus” can be just as forced and just as routine as reciting liturgy can.

And neither way is necessarily superior to the other. Both can be authentic or inauthentic expressions of faith. What really makes for a joyful response to God’s grace is not what we do on the outside. It's not what other people see and hear. It’s what God sees and hears. And God pays attention to what is deep down in our hearts, not what we’re doing with our hands or our mouths. So we should express our praise in whatever way opens our hearts and lets God know how joyful we are - whether that involves dancing in the aisles singing “Awesome God” or standing still and reverently singing "A Mighty Fortress."

Which means that in the church, we need to be mindful of two things as we create space for rejoicing. First, we need to honor the fact that different people rejoice in different ways, and be careful not to discourage any authentic expressions. If someone feels moved to wave their hands during an upbeat hymn, that would be OK. And it would be just as OK for someone else to remain still – as long as their hearts are open to God in honest rejoicing. In a time when evangelism is becoming more of a focus, a church that is unable to create such space will limit the amount of people it can reach.

Such a church will also limit the rejoicing of its own people, which brings me to the second thing we need to be mindful of. And this is something the Psalmist reiterates. The joy that the Israelites felt every time God delivered them never lasted. For whatever reason, they were not able to take that intense feeling of excitement in the moment and let it deepen in the lasting joy that lives in the heart. Instead of trusting in God’s continuing love and guidance, they trusted in themselves, in false gods, and in whatever else they could find. In short, they didn’t nurture their joy - and it got them into trouble time and time again.

Which is why it is so important for us to work hard at rejoicing, and rejoicing authentically. We can’t take worship for granted, assuming that it’s good enough just to say the right words and keep the right traditions. We must consistently check ourselves to make sure it is truly rejoicing – that it is coming joyfully from that place deep, deep down in our hearts. And the same goes for the rest of our church life – whether it’s our education programs, our fellowship, our mission work, or our daily devotions. If we authentically rejoice in all those things, we will be able to keep our trust in God and the good things God has in store for us.

From the Pulpit: "Divided We Fall"

An excerpt from the sermon I preached on September 11, 2011, based on Romans 14: 1-12. It was preached as much to myself as to anyone else, for I have often been guilty of the judgmentalism that Paul decries in this passage.)

In the time immediately following the 9/11 attacks, there were a variety of different interpretations of what happened and opinions about what should be the response – but there was also unity and a shared sense of purpose. For a short while, we were truly one people, coming together to mourn a terrible loss and somehow pick up the pieces and move on.

But that unity soon disintegrated. It did not take long before the nation split back into the usual factions. Instead of respectful discussion that fostered a shared vision, our different perspectives led us to name calling, finger pointing, and political opportunism. We became a nation of two camps at war with each other as much as with the terrorists. In the last couple of years, as we have added an economic crisis to our list of challenges, this divisiveness and hostility has only intensified – and the nation as a whole is suffering.

As we see in the 14th chapter of Romans, the earliest Christians had similar problems with divisiveness and infighting. For them, the point of controversy was differing practices involving food. Some of them fasted on the Lord’s Day, or only ate vegetables, while others ate whatever they pleased. To us, such a dispute dispute might seem trivial, at least in comparison to the issues that we face today. But in the early church, such a conflict could have destroyed their fragile new fellowship. Paul knows that peace and unity must be maintained, which is why he is so clear about them not condemning one another over these food practices.

He says this: “Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall.” And this: “Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God.” And finally, this: “Each one of us will be accountable to God.”

Three times Paul makes the point that judgment is God’s business, not ours. But that’s not all Paul says. He goes on to turn the message of warning about God’s judgment into a beautiful statement about God’s love and mercy.

He reminds us that the Lord is able to make us all stand, despite our weaknesses, and that all of us who are brothers and sisters in Christ belong to the Lord. We all live to the Lord, and we all die to the Lord. And because the Lord rose from the dead, so shall all of us who believe in him.

It’s a stunning lesson in humility and grace. None of us are perfect and none of us are saved by our own merit. Therefore, none of us have a basis to claim superiority over any other member of Christ’s body because of the differences that we have.

Because of this, if he were here today, Paul would likely have a thing or two to say about the direction our national discourse has taken since 9/11. He would also caution us that our tendency to bicker and to judge one another makes us weaker. It threatens our unity in the same way that the early church in Rome was threatened by constant arguments over their different practices.

And the same is true of our Presbyterian denomination. Our national church body has been embroiled in a contentious debate for more than 15 years over different ideas about the ordination of homosexuals. And the two sides have been extremely judgmental of one another, using harsh labels such as bigoted, heretical, hateful, and wicked to describe one another.

I have even heard people, on both sides of the debate, question the very faith of those who hold the opposite opinion. I believe that if Paul were here and heard such judgments being made, he would say something similar to what he told the Christians in Rome. For perhaps the most striking portion of this passage is when Paul says this about the different believers with different notions of what is right:

“Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord, and give thanks to God.”

Paul is clear that it’s not a matter of who is faithful and who is not, or who is sinful and who is not. Because we are all faithful, and we are all sinners. And we are all saved only by the grace of Jesus Christ that is given through his death and resurrection. This common bond of salvation should be more than sufficient to keep us united and respectful to one another when we have disagreements.

Cautiously Bold

Last week, I started a conversation on Twitter about changing worship forms and then continued it here on Pastor40. My basic point was that church leadership should be boldly blazing a new trail of creative worship expression and not be bound by "the way we've always done things." There was general agreement about the overall need for change, but my friends/colleagues also offered a healthy dose of caution. Here is a summary of their caveats:

1) The labels of "traditional" and "contemporary" are problematic in and of themselves. What is considered traditional in one place might be quite radical in another. Also, "contemporary" is a constantly moving target. Any new form of worship expression, if accepted, quickly becomes tradition and "the way we do things here."

2) Worship is not a marketable product that we should adapt to fit the demands of our target demographic. Instead, it is the embodiment of Christ as expressed by the congregation of believers. In other words, worship is the corporate expression of the church's faith carried out for God's benefit. It is not a tool for attracting new members.

3) Worship style is not the change that is needed. Too many churches fall into the trap of thinking that a contemporary service is the answer to their membership decline. But any form of worship can be rote, boring, and uninspiring. And any form can be an authentic, compelling, and attractive to newcomers. What truly makes for great worship is that it comes from the heart of a faith community that truly loves and serves God. Often, the changes that need to be made go a lot deeper than the worship service.

4) Change should happen gradually. By nature, churches are organizations that value stability and continuity - especially in this era of rapid social, political, and technological change. For many churchgoers, worship is the only aspect of their lives that is still familiar and makes sense. Small, almost imperceptible changes carried out methodically over time are much more likely to be accepted and embraced.

5) Change must come from the people, not from the pastor. In churches that have successfully re-formed their worship, the impetus has been from the ground up. Clergy have a role in facilitating and resourcing new visions, but it is impossible to force something new on a congregation that does not want it. This requires that lay people take ownership, that pastors maintain a delicate balance of leading and following, and that everyone trusts that the Holy Spirit is the one in charge.

6) Change requires long-term pastoral leadership. In many churches, the members have seen a number of pastors come and go in their time. As a result, they have difficulty investing in change with a leader they expect to be leaving after five or six years. Research is beginning to show that for lasting congregational change, pastorates of much longer duration - at least 15 to 20 years - are required. This requires a heavy dose of patience on the part of clergy (admittedly not my strong suit), and time for the membership to develop a deep and abiding sense of trust.

Every one of these caveats from my friends/colleagues is valid. Pastors who feel called to transform worship and any other aspect of a congregation will run into brick wall after brick wall if they do not heed their wisdom. Nonetheless, these same caveats can also become stumbling blocks. It's a double-edged sword, because they can also become excuses not to seek changes at all.

In the churches I've served, I've noticed that people will rarely oppose new ideas in an outright fashion. They will, however, throw speed bump after speed bump into the process, often in the form of one of these caveats, until the idea becomes unworkable. Often, there seems to be one or two lay leaders who are informally appointed to this role of reigning in the pastor's vision. It's a systems issue, and church systems are norioiusly resistant to change. Change-minded leaders can unwittingly become part of the system's resistance to change if they overuse these caveats.

Which is why, despite my agreement with all of the above cautions, the comment I liked most from this conversation was just the opposite. It was from Greg Smith, who has own blog So What Faith.

"I, for one, am of the mind that we must do more not less to encourage the conversation at the parish level and to be bold in our experimentation with new possibilities, including those for worship."

As long as we keep that attitude, these caveats will serve us well, not be a stumbling block.