Evangelism, or Membership Transfer?

Evangelism is the way we help spread the good news that is faith in Jesus Christ. Within mainline churches, however, there are two distinct attitudes for how this is done:


1) Evangelism as Membership Transfer This method operates on the assumption that there are already people in our community who are looking for a church, possibly even a church of our particular denomination. The job of the church, then, is to:

A) Make the church building clean, neat, and welcoming to visitors .

B) Do advertising and publicity of worship times, Bible studies, and special events.

C) Encourage and educate members how to invite friends, neighbors, and new residents who might be looking for a church.

D) Make the worship experience for visitors as welcoming and meaningful as possible.

E) Follow-up with visitors through contact by pastor and church members, and by cultivating them toward the decision to join the church.

The Membership Transfer method is focused on convincing people who are already disciples of Christ to attend our church instead of another church. It can also be good for re-energizing the faith of those who have drifted away from church. It rarely, however, helps new believers to make a confession of faith.

　

2) Evangelism As Reaching Out To Those Who Do Not Know Christ We can no longer assume that most people in our community have a background in church - especially younger people. The mainline church essentially lost a generation (ages 25-45), and now this generation is raising a lot of children who have no church experience. In this new environment, the job of the church is to:

A) Be a visible example in the community of what it means to follow Christ and love one another as he loved us. (We must counter a lot of negative media coverage.)

B) Listen to young adults and their attitudes about church and faith (to them, those are two very different things). Understand why they don‘t attend without pressuring or judging. Take seriously the unique concerns of their generation, and what they say about where they find spiritual fulfillment.

C) Be willing to “think outside the box” (and willing to fail) when it comes to reaching the missing generation and their children. What worked 20 or 30 years ago might not work today. We are exploring new territory without a map.

D) Continue to be welcoming and affirming to those who do have a church background and are looking for a congregation.

E) Be willing to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit, and to resist the temptation to be “numbers-oriented.” Understand the difference between keeping the church vibrant and functioning and becoming too focused on attendance figures.

　

　
So is your church doing evangelism, or just membership transfer?

From The Pulpit: From Cynicism To Wonder

Several years ago, when Margaret and I were living in South Carolina, I was sitting in my office on a hot summer afternoon when I heard a rumble of thunder. I ran outside to the parking lot, and sure enough, an ominous black cloud was rapidly beginning to fill up the western sky.

 Now the church just happened to sit at the top of a small hill on the eastern end of the downtown area, so I had the perfect vantage point to watch the storm roll in. It was awe-inspiring to experience first the building of the dark clouds until the entire sky was covered, then the flashes of lightning and rumblings of thunder, then the wind whipping in, and then the line of heavy rain marching right up Main Street and over the church.

 It was an experience  that was both thrilling and frightening at the same time, and was probably quite similar to what the author of Psalm 29 wrote about in the Old Testament reading for today. For he writes about what must have been a massive storm using images such as these:

 “The voice of the Lord is over the waters. The God of glory thunders.”

“The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars, the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon” – which, by the way, were considered some of the strongest trees in that part of the world.

“The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness.”

“The voice of the Lord cause the oaks to whirl, and strips the forest bare” – which brings to mind the devastating images of hurricane and tornado damage that we often see today.

 Now speaking of tornadoes, Margaret is always horrified that whenever we get a tornado warning, I don’t run for the closest room without windows. Instead, I head out the front door to get a good look at what is going on!

 But this storm on that day at my old church wasn’t a dangerous situation. It was just some moderate wind and a lot of rain. And the people rushing indoors didn’t look very awe-struck -  just annoyed. They weren’t rushing inside to jot down a powerful piece of poetry like Psalm 29. They were simply trying to stay dry, to keep their hair from getting messed up, and to maybe find someone to listen to their complaints about having their busy day interrupted.

 And how often are we like that? How often, when God’s power is so close and so immediate that it literally moves and shakes us and gets us soaking wet? How often, when we have the chance to run outside, and be a witness to that power, or to run inside so we don’t have to feel it – how often do we choose the indoor option?

Of course, when we ask ourselves this question, we’re talking about a lot more than thunderstorms. We’re talking about all the ways God’s power and God’s transforming grace are made manifest in our lives. How often, because we don’t want to feel the winds that the Holy Spirit is blowing, or because we might be afraid of what that wind brings, or because we might just be too busy to want to deal with it – how often do we, in our faith lives, choose a safe, indoor, out of the way place to hide when the storm rolls in?

Too often, it seems. And that goes for all of us, including myself. In today’s church – and I’m speaking of churches all over the country – in today’s church, we’ve lost in many ways the ability to embrace the storm, to have faith that God is at work in the wind and the rain, and to stand and witness to the storm in awe and in wonder like the author of Psalm 29 did. Because I have a feeling that when he wrote that powerful piece of poetry, he wasn’t just talking about a literal thunderstorm, either. Certainly, he was thinking about some sort of chaos or conflict that was going on in his life or in his religious community or in his nation.

And the reason that we might lose the ability to be amazed by the power of God is because, in many ways, we have grown cynical. According to Webster’s dictionary, cynicism is the belief that the human condition is motivated wholly by self-interest – that there really is no virtue or no good or no decency in the world – that anyone who appears to be doing something loving or compassionate is really just trying to get something for themselves. In other words, a cynic believes that the world is dominated by sinfulness, and that anything we might want to call grace or the goodness of God is an illusion.

Cynicism, therefore, is the opposite of wonder. It’s the opposite of the child-like faith that Luke talks about in today’s Gospel reading, when he says this: that “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God as a child will never enter it.” That doesn’t mean that we should be childish or immature in our faith, but rather that we should look at the world and look at what God is doing in the world with a child-like sense of awe and wonder – that we should strive to find the heavenly point of view that allows us see that the world is more than just a sinful mess - that even though we are sinful, and even though there are storms, there is also a lot of grace and a lot of goodness to be found if only we open our eyes to it.

As some of you might know, this past week was when the Presbyterian Church USA held its General Assembly. This a gathering of commissioners from Presbyteries all over the nation, and it meets once every two years to make important decisions regarding national church policy. As expected, it was a rather contentious assembly, because the Presbyterian Church, much like our country in general, is sharply split along partisan lines. I won’t go into the details of the controversies, other than to say that people on both sides left the meeting feeling angry, bitter, and cynical – as if the church body could never come together, even as if the future of the denomination itself might be in jeopardy.

Now I was not at the assembly, but thanks to the marvels of modern technology, I was able to follow some of the debates on Twitter, which is an Internet social media site. By Friday night, after perhaps the most contentious debate was held on an extremely controversial issue, I too was feeling quite cynical. I, too, was beginning to believe that no amount of God’s grace could ever overcome the bad feelings coming out of this conflict. I found myself wanting just to turn the computer off, and to seek shelter from our denominational storm by ignoring what was going on.

But then, yesterday morning something amazing happened. I logged onto Twitter just to see what people were saying in the aftermath of Friday’s storm, and I was blown away. I learned that two young women – one a youth minister who just recently graduated from seminary, and the other still in seminary – were inviting people to join them for an online prayer meeting to be held later in the evening. I logged on last night not sure what to expect, concerned that it might end up being a partisan rally, or even a continuation of the debate.

But joyfully, my fears were misguided. It turned out to be a beautiful moment where Presbyterians from all over the nation, and even some folks from other denominations, gathered together and poured their hearts out in prayer for the future of God’s church. Now I don’t know how any of these folks feel about the controversial issues of the day, and that didn’t really matter - because here are a few examples of the types of prayers people lifted to God:

 “God, enable us to speak and listen to one another, to gain understanding.”

“God, give hope to those who are called to lead others to hope.”

“God, give us courage and wisdom to know when to speak and when to be silent.”

“God, help us to grow and go deeper in faith through study, prayer, and discernment.”

And finally, my favorite one – “God, may your will be done, whether in me, through me, around me, or in spite of me.”

When the prayer ended, it was amazing to see a chorus of “Amens” floating across my computer screen. For me, it truly was a moment where God transformed my cynicism into wonder.

And perhaps the most amazing aspect of that prayer service is that I was one of the oldest people participating in it. It was organized by two young women in their 20’s, and although there were a couple of 40ish and 50ish folks there, it was mostly young adults, and even a few teenagers who had gone to the assembly as youth advisory delegates. While not children in the technical sense, this was a prayer that was lifted by a group representing the youngest generation of leaders in the church – and the fact that they lifted such a beautiful, honest, non-partisan, non-divisive, non-selfish prayer for the future of God’s church gave me a palpable sense of awe and wonder – enough to bring me to tears as I sat in front of my computer last night.

That’s the kind of feeling that inspired the author of Psalm 29, and I pray that each one of us, if we find ourselves succumbing to the cynicism that is so common these days. I pray that each one of us can have these beautiful kinds of moments where God moves us back to a place of awe and child-like wonder. Amen.

From the Pulpit: Stumbling Blocks

(These excerpts are from a sermon preached on Sunday, March 18, 2012. Text = Romans 14: 13-19)

To us, it might seem like a silly conflict. But to them, it was dreadfully important. Members of the early Roman church had different ideas about what they should eat, when they should eat, and where they should eat. And both sides are looking to Paul for vindication, for the assurance that their side is right and that the other side is wrong.

Paul, however, takes neither side. Instead, he says this:

“Let us therefore no longer pass judgment on one another, but resolve instead never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of another. I know that I am persuaded in the Lord Jesus that nothing is unclean in itself; but it is unclean for anyone who thinks it unclean. If your brother or sister is being injured by what you eat, you are no longer walking in love. Do not let what you eat cause the ruin of one for whom Christ died.”

Now again, Paul’s focus on the issue of food as a source of division, as something that can be a stumbling block to faith, might seem silly to us. In every church I’ve ever been to, food is a powerful source of unity. It’s just about the only thing everyone can agree on. Let’s get together and share some good food, and let’s do it as often as we can. It’s practically our 11th Commandment. We can’t imagine food ever being a source of major conflict.

But change the word “food” in Paul’s letter to something else, and it makes perfect sense for us. What if he said, “If your brother or sister is being injured by the type of music you use in worship, you are no longer walking in love.” Or, “If your brother or sister is injured by the way you dress in church, you are no longer walking in love.” Or, “If your brother or sister is injured by the type of furniture you buy for the church parlor, you are no longer walking in love.”

All of these things are real sources of conflicts that happen in churches today, and each one has the potential to divide and distract just as much as the food issue divided and distracted the early Christians...

... Occasionally, someone will ask me what I think is the appropriate standard of dress for church. Usually, the person is hoping I’ll agree with their opinion, whether they’re in favor of suits and dresses or simply say, "As long as you've got something on." And they’re usually surprised when I give my response, because I try to reflect what Paul is saying to the Romans. I say that it really isn’t that important whether someone dresses formally or casually for church. It’s no more important than whether 1st century Christians followed the Jewish or the Gentile traditions about food.

What’s important is what Paul says in the latter part of today’s passage when he says this: “Let us then pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding. Do not, for the sake of food, destroy the work of God. Everything is indeed clean, but is wrong for you to make others fall by what you eat. It is good not to eat meat or drink wine or not to do anything that makes your brother or sister stumble.”...

... When I was in South Carolina, I had to call a locksmith one day to repair the deadbolt on our back door. We got to talking, and when he found out I’m a minister, he confessed that he used to go to church, to a Presbyterian church that was about 10miles down the road. But he had stopped attending a couple of years ago.

When I asked him why, he explained that he had been asked to be an usher and was thrilled with the opportunity to serve. One Sunday, however, as he was passing the offering plates, he overheard a woman say that they shouldn’t be letting someone like him be an usher. She had seen the tattoos that he has on each of his forearms, and did not think they were appropriate. The left after that service and never went back, and as he explained to me, the experience was so painful he wasn’t sure if he would ever go back to any church.

Now whether or not the tattoos were appropriate is not the issue. The issue is that by making her comment, the woman placed a stumbling block between this young man and Jesus. In her act of judgment, she was more concerned about the church’s unwritten rules on physical appearance than she was about how to help nurture this man along in his faith...

... Again, it all boils down to the standard that Paul creates in Romans 14. “Let us therefore no longer pass judgment on one another, but resolve instead never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of another.” It’s an approach that requires both humility and compassion, especially in this day and age when the new people who are coming to faith might have little or no understanding of what it means to be a Christian and to be part of a worshipping community.

As we continue through this season of Lent, may we confess the ways that we are placing stumbling blocks in front of each other. And with humility and faith, may we remember that it is only through Christ that these blocks will be removed. Amen.

Our Schools Need Our Money, Our Time, and Our Voices

(The following is a speech to be given on March 12 at the meeting of the Mecklenburg County (VA) Board of Supervisors)


I come to speak to you tonight in two capacities. First, I come as a parent. I have two sons who are in first grade and kindergarten at Clarksville Elementary. Like all parents, I want the best for my children, and a quality education is at the top of my list. But like many parents, I have taken that education for granted. I have assumed that my role is to get them dressed and to school on time, and to make sure they have done their homework. Beyond that, I have left it all in the hands of the teachers and school administrators.

And as far as I have seen, our teachers and administrators have been doing a great job. They deserve our thanks and praise. But it takes more than good teachers to have good schools. It takes a lot more.

First and foremost, it takes money. I am in full agreement that increasing tax revenues is a key part of the effort to save our schools. The crisis we are facing right now, and that is having an immediate impact on our children, is financial – and the only way to stop the bleeding is to improve funding.

But as I have talked with folks all around our community, I have come to realize that the budget crisis is only the symptom of a much deeper issue. Money alone is not going to solve our problems. As someone who is just starting to educate himself about the issues, I won’t try to say what the answers are. But I will offer this quote from someone who is an expert on school reform. His name is Eric Schwarz, and he says this in an article entitled “Calling All Citizens”:

“More than any new curriculum, new funding source, or new management plan, what students need is more attention, love, teaching, and guidance from more adults. I remain convinced that if we are truly committed to dramatic learning gains for all children, then education must stop being a spectator sport. To turn around our schools, we need to move millions of citizens off the sidelines and into the game as tutors, mentors, citizen teachers, PTA members, education activists, and philanthropists.”

In short, we need to do two things: be willing to pay a little more in property taxes, and get more involved. We need to volunteer, to come to meetings, to speak up, to write letters to the editor, and to encourage our neighbors and friends to get involved with us.

Now for the second capacity in which I come before you tonight. In addition to being a parent, I am also the pastor at Clarksville Presbyterian Church – which means I have a deep concern for the spiritual health and overall well-being of our community.

I preached about the importance of public education a few Sundays ago. In that sermon, I talked about how we are called to serve the “least of these,” to help those who are the most vulnerable and powerless. I can’t think of anyone in our community who is more vulnerable and more helpless than a child. I can’t think of anyone that we are more compelled to look out for than the children in our midst. If we don’t fight for their futures, who will?

So in my opinion, preserving the quality of our schools is not just a civil duty that we have as parents, citizens, teachers, administrators, and elected officials. I believe that this is our sacred duty. I urge the Board to approve the tax increases that are necessary, and I urge all of us to get involved and stay involved. Thank you.

Blast From the Past: The Role of the Prophet

(The following is from “A Study of Christianity as Organized,” published in 1910 by Methodist theologian John A. Kern. The particular chapter that provides these quotes appears to be an overwrought defense of Wesleyan polity, but it contains some tantalizing reflection on the role of the prophet in church life. Please excuse the sexist language.)

“For the administration of government in the church there is demanded not only administrative skill, but at the same time a distinctly higher personal quality – namely, spiritual insight. In the Church of the Old Covenant, these two functions may be described as prophecy and kingship. In the Church of the New Covenant, essentially the same two functions, though of course under other than the ancient forms, made their appearance.

In brief, there was a prophetic ministry – Apostles, prophets, teachers; and there was also a ministry of government – presbyter-bishops and deacons. In the course of the second century, the prophetic ministry declined under the encroachments of the ministry of government. At the close of the second century, we find Iranaeus urging obedience not to the prophet, but to the presbyter in his office of both superintendency and teaching…

… It was only after a vigorous and prolonged protest, however, that prophetism yielded its position. And its defeat was due not wholly to episcopal domination, but in large measure to its own inherent weakness. For the prophet, like the bishop, was imperfect in spiritual character; and the heavenly light of truth that was in him proved sometimes to be darkness. He might be the subject of more or less serious error, vagaries, excesses…

… but the loss resulting from the suppression was irreparable. For eccelesiasticism had all things now in its hands, and the result in due course of time was Romanism with stereotyped dogmas of its teaching and ruling hierarchy. The prophet was slighted or forbidden, as an intruder: the priest claimed for himself every needed illumination and the absolute right to rule. Administration had become all; authority, the substitute for truth; the rulers, the Church…

… The Christian prophet may or may not be a man of conspicuous intellectual ability. He may or may not be an eloquent orator. He may either write or speak. The essential thing is that he shall live “as seeing Him who is invisible,” in personal communion with the Highest; and that he shall have the inner constraint and vocation to make known to others, so far as he himself may have received it, the mind of the Spirit…

… but what others may refuse to see or may see less clearly in this light of God, or may feel less keenly, or may hold as a creed of the intellect rather than a personal experience and law of daily life, becomes on the prophet’s fire-touched lips a present and tremendous reality…

… he will be a preacher of righteousness. Falsehood, dishonesty, unrighteous means for the gaining of even righteous ends, whether practiced by the individual or by the community, will not interpret to him in terms of bright-witted expediency or pardonable weakness, but as sin against God. The conventional morality of the world will acquire no sanctity in his eyes because of its intrusion into the Church. He will expose, not indeed without compassion and a painful sense of his own imperfections, the moral illusions and compromises of the heart.”

The Presbytery of Twitter: Introduction

(This is the introduction to a book I am writing. It is a very rough draft, so please share your honest comments and questions.)

In September of 2011, I started an Internet project called “The Presbytery of Twitter,” or @PresbyTwit as it is known to its followers. Born on a whim and with very low expectations, my venture was described on its profile as “an experimental, not-so-serious body of online believers.” This description has turned out to be quite ironic. As I begin to write this book, the Presbytery of Twitter has attracted more than 400 church professionals from a variety of positions and denominations for discussions on some of the most practical and challenging topics of the day.

The idea arose during an ordinary conversation on Twitter with a ministry colleague known as @jazzpastord. I had just returned from a meeting of the Presbytery of the Peaks in Farmville, a sleepy town in southern Virginia about an hour from my home in Clarksville. A presbytery is a regional governing body of Presbyterian churches that meets three or four times a year.

@revjimmoss Once again, returning from presbytery filled with frustration.

@jazzpastord What is so frustrating?

@revjimmoss We just sit there, listening to endless committee reports, or arguing about the latest hot-button issue.

@jazzpastord You don’t think those things are important?

@revjimmoss I do. But I wish we could do more.

@jazzpastord Like what?

@revjimmoss I don’t know. But I almost never come home with something practical to help me in my church.

@jazzpastord Then stop complaining and do something about it.

The conversation was cut short by my ringing phone, and when I returned to my laptop, @jazzpastord was gone – apparently called away by a real world demand of her own. But the damage was done. Her challenge to be the change I wanted to see struck a deep chord.

That night, as I lay in bed, my frustrations swirled around in my brain. I thought about how much of what we do in the institutional church is hopelessly anachronistic. As Chapter 1 describes, the current model of how we organize meetings and make decisions is suited perfectly for the needs of the 19th-century church, when travel was slow and the only option for communication was the US Postal Service. In the Internet age, using this model is like a CPA refusing to buy a computer and continuing to operate on the old ledger system.

But inefficiency wasn’t my real complaint. As I had told @jazzpastord, I was longing for something practical to take home for my congregational ministry. Occasionally, a useful morsel falls from the table of committee reports and contentious debates. Normally, however, the best conversation occurs in small groups during breaks and at lunch – which is what I realized that night as I recalled the meeting in Farmville and my subsequent griping on Twitter.

Many presbyteries have begun to understand this dynamic and now intentionally structure small-group discussion into their meetings. In chapter 2, I will contend that such efforts are a good start, but fail to address the deeper needs that online communities are beginning to meet. Using my experience with The Presbytery of Twitter, and the fascinating stories of Virtuous Abbey and the 1st Presbyterian Church of Second Life, I will show how the Internet offers some tantalizing possibilities for fellowship and mutual support that traditional gatherings cannot.

In chapter 3, I will go a step further and explore the idea that formal church bodies could organize and operate exclusively in the online world. Using the new Presbyterian Book of Order as well as the constitutional documents of other denominations, I will raise questions about the polity and practicality of making the jump to virtual church.

On that fateful September night, however, I had not yet followed the train that far down the tracks. When the idea first entered my brain, it was nothing more than a desire to create online what I wished I could find at an actual presbytery meeting. That is where I got the notion to call it a presbytery – a rather strange notion, since all that I had in mind was a fellowship group with more structured conversations than are normally found on Twitter. But I have become convinced that naming the group as if it were a church governing body is what has allowed it to be successful.

The next morning, when I logged onto Twitter and created the @PresbyTwit account, I invited about 30 colleagues that I either knew personally or had met on Twitter. @jazzpastord was the first to leave a comment, making the statement that this was “the first non-geographic presbytery.”

I’m still not sure if she was being serious, but the comment dislodged something in my mind. Suddenly, I began to see The Presbytery of Twitter as potentially more than a discussion group. I envisioned a new reality in the way the church organizes itself, as if a body with actual ecclesiastical authority could form itself through social media. Congregations have already been formed online. That is nothing new. But I wondered if anyone had ever tried to start something like a virtual presbytery – a body that governs and supports a group of congregations, agencies, schools, and church professionals.

In chapter 4, I will give a brief overview of how church organization has evolved since the first disciples of Jesus were called together. Throughout its history, new forms of church have sprung forth unexpectedly in response to an ever-changing world. Then, I will argue that not only does the 21st century church have the opportunity to organize in a radically new way on the Internet – but that it must do so in order to thrive and survive.

But again, on the day The Presbytery of Twitter was born, I was not thinking such expansive thoughts. I was merely trying to get my friends excited about joining me in this experiment. After 24 hours, I was thrilled that 27 of them had followed @PresbyTwit. Buoyed by the “first non-geographic presbytery” designation, I logged on for the second day determined to make the experience as much like a real presbytery meeting as possible. Naturally, I assumed the role of moderator.

Without even making a conscious decision, I began to operate under Robert's Rules of Order, with a few modifications. Someone could make a motion. If that motion was seconded, there would be a time for discussion and then a vote. The difference came in the timing.

In a physical meeting space, everyone has the chance to hear and respond to comments in an immediate sense. It is the role of the moderator to determine when the discussion is complete (or for someone to call the question). Twitter, however, is a medium where people come and go with quite a bit of inconsistency. Some users seem to live on the site, with tweets appearing throughout the day. Others might check in just once a day. In chapter 5, I will explore several ways in which the nature of online communication will necessitate some immediate changes in church practice – including the paradoxical notion that virtual decision-making might require a slower process.

I proposed a 24-hour window for discussion of a motion, followed by a 24-hour window for voting. Hearing no objections, I suggested that our first order of business be to create a profile picture. Before long, @MamaTina posted a striking image of the Twitter bird perched on the Presbyterian Church (USA) logo. It was seconded, and we began the 24-hour discussion period. The next morning, by a vote of 15 to 7, we had our first official profile pic – which was later replaced by the current pic (created by @AnwothWill) due to copyright concerns.

By the end of day 3, I was thrilled with both the number of followers – more than 50 – and with the fact that people were buying into the idea. What was developing was something vaguely like a presbytery meeting, but also quite different. There was discussion of church-related topics; there were a lot of ideas and constructive criticism; there was voting; and there were even a few folks who announced that they no longer wished to participate. Most importantly, there was that sense of palpable excitement that comes with exploring new territory.

In chapter 6, I examine the concept of exploration and map-making as a metaphor for church in the 21st-century. This metaphor has already been used for community-based church ministries by authors like Alan Roxburgh, but I will expand it for the shift to the Internet. I will show how this leap is less like exploring new terrain on earth and more like travelling to an entirely new planet, where the bulk of accumalted knowledge is obsolete and most of the rules have changed.

It did not take long for us to realize that running a governing body on Twitter is like travelling to a different planet. After the success of choosing a profile pic, we had an equally easy time coming up with a slogan. @robjacksonIV suggested, “It’s all good in the Presbyhood” – remember, we were trying to be “not-so-serious” - and the vote 24 hours later (on day 4) was nearly unanimous. The discussion of this motion, however, signaled that the process might be short-lived.

Some rumblings began to emerge that I was not strictly following Robert’s Rules. As can happen in an actual meeting, the climate deteriorated quickly. It was all in good fun, but I was amazed at how art began to mirror reality. I found myself, much like an actual moderator, parsing matters of substitute motions and calls for the question. At one point, the conversation resembled a Monty Python skit mocking parliamentary procedure, and I was more than grateful when a motion to abandon Robert’s Rules floated up into the chaos.

When this motion passed near the end of the first week, it represented what I believe to be the most significant moment of the entire experiment. Letting go of the church's long-held standard practice for governing a meeting indicated that we felt free to let go of a lot of other standard practices as well. It also allowed us to stop bickering and start focusing on what has become the core function of The Presbytery of Twitter: great discussions on the challenges facing the 21st century church.

In chapter 7, I will contend that Robert’s Rules of Order are among the many anachronistic practices that the church should reconsider. Not only are these rules unworkable in a format like Twitter, they are not conducive to the consensus-building style of decision-making that is gaining popularity. In an era when commissioners to a presbytery had little contact with one another between meetings, Robert’s Rules ensured that a lot of business could be conducted in a short period of time – a concern which dissolves in the new reality of the Internet.

With Robert’s Rules abandoned, The Presbytery of Twitter adopted the consensus style of decision-making. As we moved into our second week of existence, I challenged the followers – who were now approaching 100 in number – to suggest actions we could take. I had a number of possibilities in mind, such as recruiting new followers, electing officers, and making official communication with other church bodies.

We did arrange for “full communion” with @ekklesiaawesome, another not-so-serious church body that has formed on Twitter, but the experiment had lost the excited edginess of the first week. The followers seemed curious about what I would do next, and I did receive some good advice from some other virtual church pioneers (thank you, @MeredithGould and @mbmccandless). But I was unsuccessfully trying to encourage others to take leadership roles, and no one had any new suggestions for where to go next. I began to think that the Presbytery of Twitter was winding down. If nothing else, it would make for an interesting blog post.

In chapter 8, I will speak to the realities of life on the digital frontier. Rarely do things develop the way we think they should. Patience and humility are the key virtues. As the church steps out into the unknown realm of online organization, we will be relying more intensely on the Holy Spirit and the mystery of its guidance than we have in generations.

If nothing else, this experiment has taught me that the Spirit is in charge. I’d like to say that on that fateful September night, I planned it all out. I’d like to say that I crafted an action plan, set goals for growing the list of followers, and carefully charted out new developments like the Twinterview and the confessional constitution. I’d like to say that each of the wonderful conversations that have brought me laughter, insights, and new friends from all over the world are part of some grand design that I’m slowly unfolding. But I can't.

When I think of The Presbytery of Twitter and how completely unplanned it has been; when I think about how it has grown and what it has come to mean to me and many others; when I think about our followers who have hungered for same type of connection I have hungered for; and when I think about what this little experiment teaches us about the future of the church – I feel amazingly humbled and blessed. Given the circumstances, it could only be the work of the Spirit that has brought about this community and this sense of hope and common purpose.

The final two chapters of this book will look beyond the horizon to where the Internet and social media in particular will take the church in the longer view. Sites like Twitter and Facebook are the current realities, but five years ago, very few people even knew what they are. In another five years, everything is likely to have changed again. There is absolutely no way we can imagine what the reality will be at the end of the 21st century and beyond. Nevertheless, what practices can the church adopt today to make sure that the Spirit continues to move in new and exciting ways?

Confession: I am not at all a computer person. My laptop is the most advanced piece of equipment I own, and I don't even have Internet access in my home - which is why you will rarely find me on Twitter after 5:00 pm. I have even done a fair amount of writing that warns against becoming too dependent on technology. I am the last person that anyone would expect to be an online church pioneer. It seems ridiculous for me to even type those words. But here I am, and here is The Presbytery of Twitter. Praise be to God!

My hope for this book is simple: To share an amazing experience that I have been having; to analyze how this experience speaks to the current reality of the church; and to dream about how we can begin to answer some of the tantalizing questions that are being raised.