On the fifth day of Christmas

Sorry for the lack of posts this week. We've been a little busy.

Happy New Year. May you be blessed.

Hope in the Darkness

It is a strange thing to be expecting a child at Christmas. We are expecting a daughter some time mid-January, but she could come any day now. The nursery is ready, the crib is assembled, the returns have been made and the furniture has been put together. It is even stranger to be part of a clergy couple expecting a child at Christmas. My spouse and I are on staff together, a situation which makes the whole thing even more interesting (and fun). As the church has waited, so have we. And though we have successfully avoided being the ones to light the Advent wreath until now, I think we are up soon.

We have certainly experienced an expectant Advent.

But the strangest thing, for me and for this particular season, is to be expecting a child in the midst of the hopelessness we all felt a week ago Friday, upon learning the news that twenty-eight people were dead as a result of the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary. Twenty of them were children.

I don't know if I am feeling this way because we are expecting a child, but this particular tragedy has knocked me off my feet. I just can't get my wits about me. How has it been for you? I just can't seem to get past it, this event which is--and I am serious about this--the worst thing I can possibly imagine.

The absolute worst thing.

I hope you do not expect me to make sense of this. There is no sense to be made. We call these things "senseless" for a reason.

But I do want to say a word about how we go forward, and perhaps much of my motivation is just to convince myself to keep going. It is enough to make you want to go to bed and never get up again. It is certainly enough to make you think twice about bringing a child into this difficult world.

The more I have thought about it, though, the more I think that having a child is the ultimate act of defiant hope. There is no stronger tool in the toolbox of faith than hope, and no tool more active. We look at the world as it is, see the pain and heartache, and we recognize that it is difficult business, this business of being alive. And yet we initiate someone new into that difficult business anyway, for though life is difficult, it is rich, and bubbling with possibility.

We do not venture towards hope with the naive assumption that difficiult business will go away. We hope with the active belief that with work, with sweat and tears and blood, the work will get easier, such that rather than simply drafting someone new into an unwinnable conflict, we work to lessen that conflict with the expectation that that new person will take up where we leave off.

The work of the Christian is much larger than one person, much grander than one time. The hope of the Christian life as it is expressed in baptism is that it is indeed New Life--not just for one, but for all of us--as well seek to justice to what we've seen, as we seek to leave the world better off than we found it, as we seek to discern the fine line between what is and what could be.

In dark moments, I am prone despair. But I remember that we are a people called to hope--hope ultimately expressed in the person of Christ--and I quit looking at my shoes and discover God's great work going on all around me. This is the thing onto which I hold in this expectant season, and it is enough for me.

A Good, Old-Fashioned Book-Raising

I am really excited to share that my book is being released today! Becoming the Church: Lessons for Today's Disciples looks to the Book of Acts for lessons that were learned by the first disciples--and that speak to today's disciples, too. It is a book well suited for a Sunday School class, Bible study, or personal devotion, as it traces each chapter of Acts and includes questions for discussion.

In these coming days, I need your help! Keep reading for more information.

As you might be aware, it is next to impossible to get curriculum published these days. The denominational publishers just aren't putting out books by unknown authors. I am no Adam Hamilton, you understand.

So I need some help.

1. If you read this blog, appreciate its perspective, think I am funny, want to help out a guy whose spouse is about to have a baby, etc., please help me publicize this book! You can link to this blog post, or you can link directly to Amazon. You can purchase a copy in paperback or for the Kindle at this link. If you have a Prime subscription, the Kindle version is free!
2. If the church is going to continue in theological conversation,we've got to have some new voices. Blogging is great, but there is a significant segment of the church population we are missing. Since church is the proper place to do theology (this is much of the premise of my book), we need to figure out how to involve the whole church. Let's figure out how to bring some new voices back into the Sunday school classroom. If you do use this book as curriculum, let me know how it goes! We have some significant work to do if we are going to enter into an era of innovation. Let's start now.
3. This is uncharted territory for me. Obviously having never written a book before, I'm stepping out a bit. The past month has been the most popular for the blog since I started writing in 2008. I hope you will be in conversation with me in the coming days. And I hope you will help a brother out by spreading the word! I'm really proud of this book and the perspective it represents. The disciples had to figure out how to the becoming the church in the days after Christ. We have not got it figured out yet! Let's keep going.
4. If you read the book, leave a review on the Amazon page. The more reviews, the more folks are drawn to the page. If you like it, great. If you don't, that's fine too. I am hoping for a conversation.

In all of this, I'm thankful for the community I've experienced here! Your emails and comments have tempered me, challenged me, and helped me sharpen my own perspective. You are some great, faithful folks. I would appreciate your help.

With thanks,
Dalton

---

An excerpt from Becoming the Church: Lessons for Today's Disciples:

As we look the Bible to teach us how to live, let me share two pieces of good news. The first piece of good news is that we do not have to figure out how to be Christian by ourselves. In fact, one of the core messages of the Bible is that you cannot just pick up a Bible and go live as a Christian by yourself. The founder of my religious tribe, John Wesley, is quoted as saying that “’Holy solitaries’ is a phrase no more consistent with the Gospel than holy adulterers.” We are made for one another, and when we ignore the fact that we must do this work together, we are ignoring much of the Bible. If the Bible belongs to anybody, it belongs to the whole church, and we are called to figure this all out together.

The second piece of good news is that we are not the first ones to try and figure out how to live as Christians without Jesus available for questions and answers. The Book of Acts tells the story of the first disciples, as they struggled to figure out how to use the broken shards of their community after the Resurrection of Christ in order to fashion a new way of living. They had to become the church.

You and I continue this work of becoming the church today. In many ways, we are like the first disciples, stepping out into a strange land with a strange message about a strange savior. The Book of Acts is an excellent guide as we step out in the same faith as did the early disciples.

A Good, Old-Fashioned Book-Raising

I am really excited to share that my book is being released today! Becoming the Church: Lessons for Today's Disciples looks to the Book of Acts for lessons that were learned by the first disciples--and that speak to today's disciples, too. It is a book well suited for a Sunday School class, Bible study, or personal devotion, as it traces each chapter of Acts and includes questions for discussion.

In these coming days, I need your help! Keep reading for more information.

As you might be aware, it is next to impossible to get curriculum published these days. The denominational publishers just aren't putting out books by unknown authors. I am no Adam Hamilton, you understand.

So I need some help.

1. If you read this blog, appreciate its perspective, think I am funny, want to help out a guy whose spouse is about to have a baby, etc., please help me publicize this book! You can link to this blog post, or you can link directly to Amazon. You can purchase a paper copy at this link. You can also purchase a Kindle version at this link; if you have a Prime subscription, you can download it for free on your Kindle!
2. If the church is going to continue in theological conversation,we've got to have some new voices. Blogging is great, but there is a significant segment of the church population we are missing. Since church is the proper place to do theology (this is much of the premise of my book), we need to figure out how to involve the whole church. Let's figure out how to bring some new voices back into the Sunday school classroom. If you do use this book as curriculum, let me know how it goes! We have some significant work to do if we are going to enter into an era of innovation. Let's start now.
3. This is uncharted territory for me. Obviously having never written a book before, I'm stepping out a bit. The past month has been the most popular for the blog since I started writing in 2008. I hope you will be in conversation with me in the coming days. And I hope you will help a brother out by spreading the word! I'm really proud of this book and the perspective it represents. The disciples had to figure out how to the becoming the church in the days after Christ. We have not got it figured out yet! Let's keep going.

In all of this, I'm thankful for the community I've experienced here! Your emails and comments have tempered me, challenged me, and helped me sharpen my own perspective. You are some great, faithful folks. I would appreciate your help.

With thanks,
Dalton

---

An excerpt from Becoming the Church: Lessons for Today's Disciples:

As we look the Bible to teach us how to live, let me share two pieces of good news. The first piece of good news is that we do not have to figure out how to be Christian by ourselves. In fact, one of the core messages of the Bible is that you cannot just pick up a Bible and go live as a Christian by yourself. The founder of my religious tribe, John Wesley, is quoted as saying that “’Holy solitaries’ is a phrase no more consistent with the Gospel than holy adulterers.” We are made for one another, and when we ignore the fact that we must do this work together, we are ignoring much of the Bible. If the Bible belongs to anybody, it belongs to the whole church, and we are called to figure this all out together.

The second piece of good news is that we are not the first ones to try and figure out how to live as Christians without Jesus available for questions and answers. The Book of Acts tells the story of the first disciples, as they struggled to figure out how to use the broken shards of their community after the Resurrection of Christ in order to fashion a new way of living. They had to become the church.

You and I continue this work of becoming the church today. In many ways, we are like the first disciples, stepping out into a strange land with a strange message about a strange savior. The Book of Acts is an excellent guide as we step out in the same faith as did the early disciples.

The New Evangelicals

I am convinced that in order for the church to survive the culture wars, those of us of a more moderate bent must become the new evangelicals.

I do not mean to suggest that the moderate church should capitulate to those regressive elements of the church who refuse to acknowledge the work of the Holy Spirit. Nor do I mean to suggest that the moderate church should give up its quest for a faith that balances acts of piety with acts of mercy, individual salvation with the social Gospel, faith and science. In fact, perhaps Scott Jones' term, the "extreme center" is a better term, for there is nothing moderate about the fight for equality in God's church; there is nothing moderate about working for a better future in God's world.

Those of us who find ourselves at this extreme center must become the new evangelicals, for if we do not leave our pews in order to bring in people who are predisposed to this way of living, the church is in trouble. The church will become more and more irrelevant, more and more run by an inward-looking fringe, and the good news that comes from Jesus Christ will turn into something it is not: something about me, and my heart, and my relationship, and my needs. We are already seeing corners of the church that have contracted a sort of spiritual nearsightedness, an inability to see beyond themselves, or out the front door of the sanctuary.

If we are to survive, and if we are to do justice to God's call on our lives, we must be honest about things. The church is at a critical point. I reject the constant refrain proclaiming the church's imminent death, and I find language of crisis unhelpful, for it often exists to crowd out other opinions.

But.

God's church is at a tipping point, and you need only look at age demographics to see that there be dragons ahead. The church is going to change, whether I prefer it or not, and we may use this opportunity to consolidate power, deepen our control over church structures, gaze deep into the ecclesial navel and hope that a savior jumps out of it.

Or.

We may use the opportunity to be faithful, to spread the good news of the saving grace of Jesus Christ, not in terms of who gets in and who does not, but in terms of Christ's promise of rich eternal life, a life which acknowledges that praising God and serving others are not distinct categories (except , perhaps, on conference reports), but rather two sides of the same coin. We could take this opportunity to share the salvation that Christ has shared with us, reaching whole new generations who have been turned off by the church. Let me offer two reasons for the urgency of this call.

First, if we are people who believe in the power of the love of God, we have an obligation to share that love with others. The Great Commission, after all, is not simply a command we are given in the interest of Christianity's self-preservation. The Great Commission is a call to share that which we already know, for Christ's redeeming love is for everyone, and it opens us to new, deeper possibilities of what it means to be human. Too often, the more moderate among us have been scarred by the word "evangelism," so we throw it away without much of a thought, content to live and let live.

I get it. I have scars. Many of us do. But I also have hope in Christ and hope in the church, for it was Christ and the church that saved me from myself. While I was content to wallow in my own baggage and pain, the church said said, "You are not alone. There is a better way."

So here I am, having received the good news. And let us be clear that when we talk about "good news," we are not simply talking about going to Heaven. That is a pretty myopic view of eternal life. The good news is that we are loved and accepted by the God who saves us from ourselves and gives us eternal life.

This eternal life does not begin upon death. It has already begun. We are called to live differently, for we have new life. This is the good news.

Keeping this good news to ourselves does not do justice to God's love, however, and neither does it do justice to our experience. We have been given a gift, a particular way of living. I am sensitive to the offensive ways people have been abused under the banner of "evangelism," and I am certainly not advocating that sort of conversation. There is no need to badger people, or to scare them with threats of Hell (which by their nature do not do justice to Christ's love, nor the wideness of God's mercy).

We must be sensitive to other belief systems and ways of living. But if we are unwilling to share the good news, this gift of love, how do you think we look to those standing outside the church, the ones we are so scared of offending? How does it look to those outside the church doors when we attempt to hoard this love for ourselves? How seriously does it look like we take our faith?

It is these people standing outside the church to which I want to turn next, for it is the particularity of much of this population that helps me to realize the urgency of this work.

The Barna Group, a research organization specializing in church concerns, released a study last year that look at the reasons young Christians leave the church. The group found six reasons, all of which speak to the theological navel-gazing to which the church is especially prone:

• Churches do not engage culture outside the church doors
• Churches do not seriously engage difficult issues
• Churches ignore science
• Churches deal too simplistically with the issue of human sexuality
• Churches are too exclusive
• Churches are unfriendly to those who doubt

Are you sensing a theme? The church is too inwardly focused for many young Christians, so they leave. They do not leave to find another church. They leave.

If the point is not clear enough, let me just make one more observation. The young people who shared these observations are not those on the margins of society, those who have never been exposed to church. The people we are talking about here are Christians, people who have grown up in the church!

The data for the overall population of young people is even worse. Three percent--three percent!--of young adults ages 16-29 have a favorable view of evangelicals. When asked to describe the church, respondents used words like judgmental, old-fashioned, and hypocritical more frequently than any other. And when asked about the church's stance on sexuality, a staggering 91% of non-Christians described the church as fundamentally "anti-homosexual."

Folks, the church is not supposed to be anti-anybody. We are supposed to be pro-God and pro-people, and if we don't know such a thing at a fundamental level, we've got bigger problems than our reputation.

Much of this reputation is unwarranted, of course: the sins of the fathers whose consequences we must bear. And while the reputation is, perhaps, unfair, it is also reality, and we ignore reality at our own peril. Too frequently, we wallow in our frustration at the nearsighted church, and blame others for the predicimant in which we found ourselves.

There is a better way.

Too often, I have seen those who place a heavy emphasis on evangelism seek out only a certain kind of person. But the good news of God's love is for everyone, and if we want the church to be a more faithful picture of God's gracious love, we cannot simply reform from within. We have got to get out of the church and evangelize.

The people we are missing are the people we need, for there are many outside the church who hunger for justice, who are fueled by service, who believe that science ought to be taken seriously. There are many who, in the final analysis, are like the "extreme center" we talk about in church, but who have not been given the opportunity to see that the church--at least in some expressions--is neither old-fashioned nor judgmental.

We need these people. We need them. And let's be clear about this: if we leave them alone, they will get along just fine. They won't have received the good news of Jesus Christ--and it is indeed powerful good news--but they've gone along just fine without it. They may not know what they are missing, but they will survive.

We may not.

Perhaps you might say, "This whole scheme is just about making the church more liberal/pro-gay/compromising. He wants to bring in people who think just like he does." I am sensitive to this criticism, but it misses the forest for the trees. Because the church's reputation for hypocrisy and judgmental attitude turns off so many, people who are fundamentally predisposed against this kind of behavior have left the church in droves. But only two or three generations ago, this discussion would not be necessary, as many of these people were already in the church! We would be having conversations about how to live into the future, but the conversation could happen within the church because forward-thinking folk were already there. It is the attitude of judgment, so foreign to the Gospel, that has turned off millions. I do not simply want to bring in people predisposed to moderate, socially conscious theology; I want to bring these people back.

Without more open-minded, moderate folk, without younger folk, the church will not change. And, in the not-so-distant future, as we do survey after survey to figure out just what went wrong, more and more people will talk about how judgmental the church is, how insular. And those of us in the church will say, "Yes, but we are so faithful."

An UnTenable Argument

The Rev. Dr. Timothy Tennent, President of Asbury Theological Seminary, has written a controversial blog post called "Why the Church is Concerned with Same-Sex Marriage and Ordination."

I spent a semester as an Asbury student, taking two online classes for credit after I graduated from the Candler School of Theology, but I do not personally know Dr. Tennent. Though much of his theological worldview runs counter to mine, I do know him to be a gracious writer and generous speaker.

However, Dr. Tennent has written a piece for his blog which strikes me as full of arguments which are specious at best, and completely unfair to those with whom he disagrees. Because his was a public post in a public forum, I feel compelled to respond publicly.

Tennent argues that the (conservative) church's preoccupation with the issue of human sexuality "is not, as is often said, because this sin is being singled out from all the others," but rather because "any attempt to relocate any sin from the New Testament 'sin lists' to the celebrative, normative list must be addressed because it strikes at the heart of the gospel itself." I hope you will read the whole article to see his full argument.

I think a fair summary of his argument would go like this:
1. The Bible makes clear that the practice of homosexuality is a sin.
2. Those who seek full acceptance of people who identify as LGBTQ are deeply misguided, or worse.
3. This church is not preoccupied with homosexuality because of its sexual nature.
4. The church is preoccupied with homosexuality because those with whom we disagree are trying to take an aberration (a sin) and make it normative, even holy.
5. Taking sin and making it normative is deeply threatening to the church. And
6. We must stand against that which strikes at the heart of the Gospel.

Of the six parts of his argument I have identified, it is the characterization of his ideological opponents (#2) which I find to be most outrageous. Let me briefly explain why it is this part, and not the others, that spurs me to respond.

I do not find part #1 (the scriptural argument against homosexuality) so outrageous because I am very familiar with these arguments. I grew up in a free-church tradition that did not ordain women, did not allow divorced elders, and did not share the Wesleyan emphasis on grace that is so foundational to United Methodism. While I do not happen to agree that the Bible makes clear that the practice of homosexuality is a sin (I do not happen to agree that the Bible is terribly clear about many aspects of 21st century life), I do believe that one can make such a scriptural argument without too much trouble. To dismiss this scriptural argument without engaging it theologically is to do an injustice to the multifaceted issue of human sexuality. Disagree with Dr. Tennent's interpretation, if you want, but you must admit that there is, in fact, a scriptural argument to be made to the contrary, just as there is a scriptural argument to be made against the ordination of women, or for the legitimization of slavery. Just because there is an argument does not make it the right argument.

Nor am I particularly upset by parts 3 and 4 of Dr. Tennent's argument, the notion that human sexuality is a hot topic independent of its sexual nature. I have no reason to question the motives of those who so strongly oppose homosexuality. I may disagree with their arguments, but I do not necessarily believe that, as some have suggested, this segment of the church is preoccupied with sex because of some unresolved personal issues of sexual identity. I find that kind of accusation unhelpful and sophomoric. I don't think, of course, that the issue of full inclusion is the boogeyman Dr. Tennent makes it out to be, but I do not question his motives.

As to parts 5 and 6 of Dr. Tennent's argument, the notion that making sin normative is threatening to the church, well, I would just add that I agree wholeheartedly. We are called to stand against sin and injustice, in all of its forms (even, I would add, when that sin is institutional).

It is part 2 to which I want to respond, the part of Dr. Tennent's argument that those who disagree with him are misguided, or worse. I must admit that, as I first read Dr. Tennent's post last night before bed, I turned to my spouse and said to her, "This is one of the most completely unfair arguments I have ever read." I left this comment on his blog last night:

Dr. Tennent:
I want to thank you for engaging an important (and difficult) issue. I have a different perspective, and in the spirit of holy conferencing, I want to offer a thought. I am not interested here in arguing the basic point as it relates to homosexuality and scripture. Both sides of that argument are well-documented. I’d like to point to something much more basic: the way in which you are casting those who support ordination and marriage rites for homosexual persons.

You call those who disagree with you “convinced by weak exegesis.” You suggest that they are so unfaithful as to change belief simply because they prefer the prevailing culture. You call the Christians who disagree with you weak-minded enough to convince themselves of something you argue they wish the Bible said. And you equate those who question traditional Biblical interpretations of this issue with Satan.

All of this in the first four sentences.

I truly am not trying to kick up dust. But I have to believe that if we are going to live together–if not long-term in the same denomination, then at least on the same earth–we have to do better.

Again, I truly appreciate your honest engagement. It is more than many would offer.

It is usually the case that a night of sleep finds me less worked up than the evening before. I have, at times, regretted something written just before bed. But after sleeping on it, I think I should have taken my response even further.

It is one thing to believe passionately. I wish more people did. But when passion spills over into corrupting the way in which I see the Imago Dei in you, I have moved beyond passion into something akin to rage. So much of what I see in Dr. Tennent's argument is not a clear-headed argument about the scriptural basis for the United Methodist Church's status quo understanding of sexuality, but rather an attack on his opponents. He casts his understanding of Christianity as superior because his opponents are "convinced by weak exegesis," or worse, "convinced [by] themselves." He says--not implies, but says!--that his opponents trust culture more than God on the issue of homosexuality. He says--not implies, but says!--that his opponents brush aside scripture and adopt the same argument used by "the enemy" as "a wedge . . . against God's word."

I am not quite sure how to respond to these charges, which is, of course, precisely the point. If, as Dr. Tennent says, anyone who disagrees with his position is misguided or inspired by Satan, how can there be any response but sheepish, silent agreement? I find this kind of argument both unhelpful and unnecessarily divisive, for it does not allow for nuance or disagreement. Just as I must acknowledge that there is a scriptural argument against the ordination of homosexuals, for instance, he should acknowledge that there is a legitimate argument for marriage equality and gay ordination that does not involve the inspiration of the devil.

Part of our fiber as United Methodists is the notion that though we may disagree about many things, we recognize that the image of God is in all people, even those with whom we disagree. John Wesley put it this way:

But although a difference in opinions or modes of worship may prevent an entire external union, yet need it prevent our union in affection? Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike? May we not be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion? Without all doubt, we may. Herein all the children of God may unite, notwithstanding these smaller differences. These remaining as they are, they may forward one another in love and in good works.

If we are to love alike, there is no time for such scurrilous attacks. Let us disagree, but let us disagree charitably. If we cannot put aside "these smaller differences"--and perhaps it is true that the current structure of the United Methodist Church is ill-equipped for disagreement--we are doomed.

I am sad to say that in one post from a well-respected administrator and church leader, I see much of the problem of the frayed connection laid bare. Instead of casting our opponents as weak-minded (indeed, instead of casting fellow Christians as opponents at all), we must acknowledge the full humanity of those with whom we disagree. Instead of dismissing the notion that disagreement is normal, even over difficult issues, we must find a way to all live together. I am confident that God is strong enough to handle these differences. Once we acknowledge these differences as legitimate disagreements--and not some theologically lazy, weak-minded capitulation--perhaps we can move on the business of being of one heart, though we are not of one opinion.

(Image from Flikr user christophertitzer. Creative Commons)

A little hiatus

Perhaps you have noticed that my rate of posting has declined significantly in the past few weeks. Between paperwork for the Board of Ordained Ministry and preparing for the arrival of child number one in January, my plate is full.

Once I am able to think about anything other than these two things--give me a few weeks--I'll be back to full-bore posting. In the meantime, your prayers are appreciated!
--Dalton

Living on Purpose

I am a couple of months into what I hope will be a life-long experiment in living on purpose. Throughout my day, I have tried to be deliberate about the things I do and the ways in which I spend my time. I have even begun to wake up early so that I can spend each morning reading scripture, spending time in prayer, writing, and exercising. I am no morning person, so waking up early is a challenge!

In all that I do, I am trying to pay attention to the purpose of my life: a purpose which is not so much about God dictating my every move as much as it is about the tuning of my heart’s song so that it may be in harmony with God’s.

The writer Anne Lamott says that you can be sure that you have created God in your image when God starts to hate all the same people you do. Living on purpose reminds me that I am made in God’s image and not (thank goodness) the other way around.

The church is called to live on purpose, too. The mission statement of the United Methodist Church says that we are to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. I must admit that most days I prefer the language of “purpose” to “mission statement,” because most mission statements sound like they should just be written on letterhead rather than etched upon the human heart.

“Mission” is about what we do, and it is vital, but “purpose” acknowledges that we cannot separate what we do from who we are. We are called to be people who, through willing spirits, are drawn into God’s story.

What if everything we did, together as a church and individually as members of the body of Christ, were done with a sense of purpose? What if we really viewed ministry through the lens of making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world? How many bad habits and outdated programs would we push to the side, and how much of our own cultural baggage would we ditch so that we could spend our time following God and serving one another?

The church is too important to go along for the sake of going along. There is too much at stake to live on accident, for there are many who need to hear the healing message of Christ’s love! There are disciples to be made! There is a world in need of transformation! With that kind of knowledge, how can we do anything but be driven to serve, to make disciples, to be about the business of working with God to transform the world? How can we do anything but live on purpose?

(This post was first posted at Devotions by Young Adults for Young Adults, a project of the General Board of Discipleship of the UMC. It was also sent as a devotion through Monday Morning in North Georgia, the weekly devotional of the North Georgia Annual Conference. It was a blessing to participate in each of these forums!)

Noticing God

I was recently on a mission trip in Uganda, working with a school that badly needed a girls dormitory, since the 150 or so girls at the school were sleeping in bunk beds in a packed classroom. None of us on the team were skilled masons (we weren’t really skilled anything, to be honest), so we spent most of our time moving bricks.

Moving bricks is about as much fun as you might imagine, which is to say that it ranks somewhere between waiting in line at the DMV and having a tooth pulled. The local way of moving bricks is that you form a line, I guess you call it a fireman’s brigade, and toss bricks, one a time, down the line. Once the brick reaches the end of the line, you stack it there. By the end of the week, I noticed that we were really moving bricks to one spot and then moving them back, probably just to keep us busy. But it was pleasant work, working together and visiting with one another and with the local children.

One day of our trip was a national holiday, so there was no class. The teachers came to help us move bricks, and the children followed. Because they stood to benefit from the building of the dorm, they wanted to help in whatever small way they could. So the children and teachers intermingled with the mission team, and for an hour or so the Kingdom of God was present on earth, passing those bricks, one after another, learning each other’s work songs, laughing and working together, tossing bricks down the line.

I got so caught up in the work and the laughing that I almost didn’t notice that behind us, in a smaller line, there stood a group of small children, too young to pass the heavy bricks, but wanting to help. These small children found a small pile of stones, pebbles, really, and they stood behind us, lined up, about 10 of them, the first one taking a pebble from the pile, passing it along, passing it down, until they reached the end of the line. Once the children reached the end of the line, the last child placed the pebbles in a small pile.

It was right behind me, and I almost missed it, this sweet scene, this vision of the kingdom of God. Because the children were too small to help us pass larger bricks, they found another way to help.

I almost missed it. And yet, thank goodness and thank God, I noticed.

Question: What small ways have you noticed God working in your life lately?

(This post was first posted at Devotions by Young Adults for Young Adults, a project of the General Board of Discipleship of the UMC. I am the featured writer this month, and you will find a new post each Wednesday.)

Putting in the Work

I’ve had plenty of struggles in my own life, just like everybody else. But perhaps my biggest struggle is getting over myself. While I’m usually a pretty big fan of myself, if I am honest, I seem to alternate between periods of self-loathing (thinking I am not good enough) and periods of self-importance (thinking nobody else is). There is no medium. I’m either awful or I’m perfect, depending on the time of day.

Does this happen to you? Do you somehow feel completely inadequate and also completely perfect? I think you call this particular condition “being human,” and it is the strangest feeling. When I feel these two urges at the same time, I know that I am focusing too much on myself, for I am obsessing over my own faults and my own strengths. The cure for this kind of lunacy is to get outside of myself, to go help somebody, to spend time in prayer listening to God rather than my usual mode, which involves telling God what it is that I need God to do for me.

It is difficult isn’t it? This business of getting outside yourself is one of the hardest things in life. I was reading recently in Mike Slaughter’s book, Momentum for Life, in which he says that in our “instant satisfaction culture, we want the CliffsNotes version of God: happiness, success, and fulfilling relationships. We want ‘easy’ and ‘now,’ and we try to make God work that way, too.”
The problem with this kind of CliffsNotes version of God is that a) it does not do justice to the wideness of God’s mercy, and b) it is less about God than it is about me. Like Veruca Salt in the film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, I “don’t care how: I want it now.” I want to be happy, I want to successful, I want my life and my ministry to make me a fulfilled person.

There is only one thing missing from these desires: me! I want all these things, and I want God to provide them for me, but I don’t want to put in the work to make them happen. I get upset if I pray for something, and it doesn’t happen! But God is not a genie. There is no rule that if you rub the lamp (pray) you will receive your wishes. You must work in order to be fulfilled.

This is one of the central truths of following Jesus: you must put in the work, but you must not assume you are working for yourself. God will work in partnership with you. This is a pretty hefty responsibility, since it means that not only do you have something to say about your own fulfillment, but you also have something to do about the problems of the world. Mike Slaughter also says in his book that you are the only bank account that God has, after all.

There is much to be done! Let’s get busy!

Question: How are you being called to work in partnership with God?


(This post was first posted at Devotions by Young Adults for Young Adults, a project of the General Board of Discipleship of the UMC. I am the featured writer this month, and you will find a new post each Wednesday.)

An old church structure for a new century

I pay attention to which posts on this blog get the most traffic. Whenever I write about Chick fil a, for instance, I usually see a spike in traffic. The thing that drives the most people to the blog? Church polity: church systems and structure. You people are as nerdy as I am. I love it.

This fact does my heart good, since I have been again thinking about the gift of United Methodist polity lately as I work on my ordination paperwork and as we prepare for charge conference.

I wrote last month about the upside-down triangle model of local church leadership, both as it relates to sermons and as it relates to church administration. The key words and phrases of this model of leadership, I think, are "empowering" and "filtering," rather than "demanding" and "commanding."

The times and the culture require a new form of local church leadership, such that the decentralization of information is accounted for in our structure. We need guides and authorities, but we as pastors and church leaders must operate in a new environment of openness and empowerment by being authentic filters of the Gospel and of God's work in the world.

We must acknowledge the presence of a network society (mirroring the ways in which our information flow works in the internet age), and we must behave in ways that do justice to the new ways humans interact.

Only, this model of networked interacting is not new, and it is not novel. In fact, this model of networked interaction is probably best called "connectionalism," and it is the fundamental principle of United Methodist church structure. Just like computers are networked together, so are churches yoked together in districts and conferences. Just like there is regulation of the internet by agencies, governments, and interested groups, so are churches regulated by General Conference and administered by Bishops and district superintendents. Just as there are outside groups that support the work of the network (Wikipedia Foundation, for instance, or Mozilla), so are there boards and agencies whose job it is to resource and support local churches. The internet, for all is supposed chaos, is not a free-for-all. Nobody has ever died from a Google search gone bad.

I do not care to forever go down the road of metaphor, but you understand the point. The United Methodist Church, decentralized as it is and relational as it is, is the perfect model for church in the 21st century, for it models emerging patterns of the ways in which humans interact.

Now, the church is not perfect, and neither is its structure. There are pockets among the boards and agencies of the church which seem to confuse their mission of resourcing and equipping with doing the outsourced job of the local church. Here, let me just brag on the North Georgia Conference, the annual conference of which I am a provisional member. The conference (and its staff) does what it needs to do in order to keep the trains running, but rather than being the body that does ministry for the local church, North Georgia works to equip its churches to do the ministry to which God is calling them. In particular, the Connectional Ministries staff (under the leadership of Rev. Mike Selleck) works to resource churches, providing them guidance, visioning, support, and encouragement. Here's a perfect model of leadership from a source outside the local church. The action does not happen in the conference office, but rather the conference helps the action to happen in the church.

Outside groups and agencies are important, but the place where this connectionalism is especially profound--and where the church has the most opportunity for growth--is in the connection between churches themselves. There are things you do in your church that can benefit me in the church I serve. There are resources I have that would be helpful to you in your setting. Neither church, regardless of size, is more or less important, for it is the connection that matters. The conference, after all, is little more than a connection. When we relate to one another, we are in connection. To paraphrase John Donne, no church is an island.

There have been efforts in recent months and years to change the fundamental nature of United Methodist structure to fit into a schema that is seen as more manageable and "effective." Many who stand on the street corner and preach the imminent death of the church argue that we must move towards a traditional top-down, corporate approach if we are to face the challenges of the new century.

This approach makes no sense to me, theologically or practically, for the challenges of the new century and the practical implications of being the church in the networked age are issues which match perfectly with how the church has been structured all along.

The task, then, is to decide how to tweak structures to better fit this decentralized, networked connectionalism in order that the church look more like its first principles (which, of course, involves being the Body of Christ).

Following Jesus, Loving Others

I have been around the church long enough to have an idea of what the theologian Alfred
Loisy meant when he said, "Jesus came preaching the Kingdom, and what arrived was
the Church." Jean-Paul Sarte said it this way: "hell is other people."

So I sympathize with people who give up on the church and decide to just follow Jesus,
those who say they are not so much "Christians" as "Jesus followers." I get it. As a
pastor, I have seen people do some amazing things, and I have seen people do some awful
things. It is enough to make you just give up on the church and start over with just you,
your Bible, and your Jesus.

While I sympathize with this instinct, I also know that it is not good enough, for you
cannot separate relationship with other people from relationship with Jesus. Oh, people
have certainly tried. I know of folks who say that their mission is life is to do something
vague like "just be passionate about Jesus," or some such thing, and I have to admit
that I have absolutely no idea what that means. Is being passionate about Jesus about
sounding excited every time you say his name? Is being passionate about Jesus about
letting everyone know you are a Jesus-follower because of your clever t-shirt? Or is being
passionate about Jesus about something else entirely?

I have to believe that Jesus meant it when he said that when you feed a person who is
hungry, when you give water to someone who is thirsty, when you welcome someone
who is a stranger, you are feeding, giving drink to, welcoming Jesus (Matthew 25). We
were created to serve each other, and the way in which we are passionate about Jesus is
by being servants.

Or, think of it this way. We were all created in the image of God (Genesis 1), and we
each have within us that very image, no matter who we are or what we have done. I
cannot do justice to God's love and grace unless I do justice to God's love and grace
within myself, and within you, because you share that same image. You cannot leave
everyone behind and follow Jesus, for one of the primary ways in which we follow
Jesus is by loving each other. This is no problem when we are loving a cute child, or a
dedicated volunteer, or a salt-of-the-earth saint of the church. But the world is not made
up of perfect people.

Babies grow up. Volunteers get burned out. Even saints make mistakes.

The raw truth is that people are difficult. Loving is hard work, especially when we have
to find the image of God within an especially difficult person. But we have been given
the gift of the God who created us, who redeemed us through Christ, who stays with us
through the work of the Holy Spirit. This God and this gift deserve no less.

We were made for each other. Though some days, I feel like moving to the woods with
just me and Jesus, I know that there are great gifts involved with being the church. Rather
than dismissing all of it, let us work so that it may be more faithful. Let us welcome
everyone into this gift of community.

Question: How are you going to be the church today?

(This post was first posted at Devotions by Young Adults for Young Adults, a project of the General Board of Discipleship of the UMC. I am the featured writer this month, and you will find a new post each Wednesday.)

Young Adult Devotions

This month, I'm the featured writer of the "Devotions by Young Adults for Young Adults" section of the Young People's Ministries website through the General Board of Discipleship of the United Methodist Church.

A new devotion will run each Wednesday for the month of October. Today's devotion is the first. Check it out.

Life verse

I have recently learned of the life verse phenomenon. You probably knew about it already. In fact, if you are enough of a Christian to read a blog post from a long-winded, somewhat sarcastic minister, you have probably had a life verse picked out for some time. A life verse is quite simply a Bible verse that gives your life some direction, that sums up who you are and who you hope to be, that does justice to your understanding of God.

There is some danger in this business, for we tend to ascribe magical status to some of our Bible verses. We sometimes take the sweet sentiment of one verse over and against the context, the rest of the Bible.

Take Jeremiah 29:11, for instance: for surely I know the plans I have for you, thus says the Lord: plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.

Isn't it nice. There is certainly a wonderful sentiment in this verse, the idea that God desires to give us a future with hope. That's a promise onto which I am happy to hold. God has a plan for me, and it is to give me a future with hope. This is unabashed good news.

This is great news on its own, but place the verse in theological and scriptural context, and Jeremiah 29:11 changes a bit. After all, just because God has a plan for me doesn't necessarily mean that things are going to work out the way I want them to (and if I can get controversial here for a moment, nor does it mean that things are going to work out the way that God wants them to).

Besides, God wasn't talking to me in this verse, anyway. God was talking to a group of people, the exiles in Babylon, and there is a huge difference between a future with hope for a group of people and a future with hope for little old me. Even then, the promise involved being exiled; if this is a future with hope, some of them must have thought, count me out!

So you see the problem. It is hard to sum the whole Bible, the entire life of faith, the abundance of God in one verse.

But I have realized over the last few weeks that I may, in fact, have a life verse. I have been thinking of this verse often. I have been reminded of it during difficult circumstances and triumphant experiences. The verse comes just before Jeremiah 29:11, just before the promise of hope.

In Jeremiah 29:7, the prophet shares the voice of God: "But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare, you will find your welfare."

The more I meditate on this one verse, the more I am learning about who God is and what it means to be human. I am reminded that God partners with humanity, and that I have a role to play. I am reminded that even in difficult circumstances, I am called to love.

Most of all, I am reminded of something I have learned time and again, and I think it may perhaps be the most important thing I know. God loves everyone--everyone!--and the business of sharing that love with others is our primary vocation as humans and children of God.

What is more, you cannot run out of love. I have never met someone who loved so much that they simply ran out. Oh, I have known plenty of folks who have misunderstood the nature of love, constantly seeking it rather than offering it--and consequently ended up completely empty. But I have never met someone who has truly run out of love. Never.

In fact, the people I know who are the most loving also have the most love. One of the fundamental mysteries of being a human and being a follower of Christ is this: if you love, you will have love. It is the simplest thing I know, and the greatest. If you need proof, just look to Jesus.

Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you, and pray on its behalf, for in its welfare, you will find your welfare. You could spend a life chewing on that promise. I think I just might.

Chautauqua

 I have been meaning to post about our trip last month to the Chautauqua Institution, and I must admit that it has taken me some time to process the experience.

Chautauqua is an ecumenical 750-acre community on lake Chautauqua outside Buffalo, NY. It describes itself as "dedicated to the exploration of the best in human values and the enrichment of life through a program that explores the important religious, social and political issues of our times." I would echo this description by simply adding that Chautauqua is a religious, cultural, and educational Disneyland. Stacey and I had the honor of being fellows in the New Clergy Program at Chautauqua.

In essence, here is how Chautauqua works.

Each weekday morning at Chautauqua, there is a large platform lecture in the large outdoor amphitheater. These lectures are attended (on purpose) by a couple of thousand people who come to Chautauqua to engage in life-long learning and hear perspectives on the issues of the day. Each week of the nine-week summer season has its own theme; during our time together, the theme was radicalism. Each morning speaker offered a perspective on this topic. The speakers ranged from Dame Stella Remington, former head of MI-5, to Juliane Malveaux, former President of Bennett College (whom Cornell West called the most iconoclastic public intellectual in the United States, which is like being called the world's best painter by Picasso), to David Rohde, the Reuters columnist who spent several months as a prisoner of the Taliban. These are not fly-by-night lecturers. Chautauqua does it right.

Each afternoon, in a smaller amphitheater, Chautauqua presents a series of Interfaith lectures from a number of different traditions. We were presented with lectures from Rabbis David Gordis and Arthur Waskow, Eboo Patel (founder of the Interfaith Youth Corps) and Philip Clayton (dean of Claremont School of Theology).

Throughout the week, a chaplain guides the community life, preaching during Sunday morning worship services and morning worship each day. Our chaplain was the Very Rev. Tracey Lind, the dean of Trinity Cathedral in Cleveland. Other events fill the rest of the week's available hours. We had the opportunity, for instance, to participate in a Shabbat servive and share a Shabbat meal with Rabbi Sam Stahl, witness Jooma midday prayers led by Muslim students, attend a hymn sing (and then share a meal with!) renowned hymn writer Brian Wren, and hear the Chautauqua Orchestra play the music of John Williams on the occasion of his 80th birthday (I was good and did not pump my fist during the Imperial March). Vince Gill even showed up to play a concert during our last day at Chautauqua.

One unique feature of Chautauqua is the presence of denominational houses. Each mainline denomination has its own house (we stayed, of course, at the beautiful United Methodist House) where volunteers staff the place, providing hospitality and serving those who are present for the week. Our hosts were incredibly kind.

Because we were fellows of the New Clergy Program, we also had the opportunity to interact in small group conversation with many of the speakers, hearing their insights on ministry, interfaith work, and radicalism. This small group time was invaluable, and a real gift. I don't know many clergy (new or established) who have this kind of opportunity, to sit at the feet of leading thinkers and engage them on difficult issues.

And so we spent the week together, listening, listening, engaging, and it was a lot. I thought at the time that I needed more time to process--I still think this, in many ways--but I am thankful for the packed week, for the opportunities for learning were pretty incredible, and I did have the chance to process everything once I got home. I am not sure when I will get back up to Chautauqua (the New Clergy Program paid our considerable expenses), so this was a special time.

I'm left with many thoughts, but there are three I want to share.

1. So much more is possible. As I sat through mind-blowing lecture after mind-blowing lecture, I kept thinking, "why am I doing such small work?" There is a temptation in ministry to simply manage, to step out every now and again. But it is also the case that I am similarly tempted to get back into line once my hand is slapped or I receive the slightest whiff of criticism. But the Gospel is so much bigger than I am allowing it to be! I am convicted that if I am to take the Gospel seriously (and this is certainly my call as a pastor!), I must also take seriously its power. I must do what I can do to justice to its power. I do not mean to suggest that I plan to stand on the street corner with a poster and a megaphone. But I do mean that I refuse to cower. There is too much at stake. Besides, it is possible to take the Gospel seriously and be successful! I have seen this dynamic at work. The notion that one must stay within one's small box is a fiction created by those who do not care to change.

Christ came offering change, and the Holy Spirit promises us that the work is not ours alone. I am convicted that I ought to take the Spirit at its word.

2. Living in community, even "enlightened" community, is not all peaches and cream. At Chautauqua, where there is this utopian notion that since we are listening to lectures on purpose, we must have it together, there are still problems. There are pockets of homophobia. There are those who have trouble thinking outside themselves. I am thinking of a woman who identified as a Jew and who spoke favorably of John Hagee, praising his work in Israel despite the fact that he would see her damned to Hell.

The most difficult moment of the week for me, and one I continue to process, occurred at one of the morning lectures. Behind the place where some colleagues and I were sitting, a man with developmental disabilities entered the amphitheater. I later saw him with a woman who I assume was his mother; I understand that they were both present at the lecture that morning. The man began to softly speak to himself, repeating words spoken by the lecture and adding his own commentary. He was not especially loud, and I doubt anyone outside our section would have been able to hear him. And as he continued, people began to turn around to stare at him with disgusted looks on their faces. Eventually, one by one, they started to turn around and shush the man, such that eventually half the section was turned around, staring and shushing. The man and his mother eventually got up and left, shooed away by the community.

I'm still processing this incident for a couple of reasons. For one, I am reminded that even "open-minded" people can be incredibly cruel. But I am also wondering what my job in that situation should have been. I certainly did not get up and defend the man. I didn't get up and leave. I just sat and steamed.

3. Ecumenical and interfaith work is incredibly important. I am United Methodist to my core, and I tend to run in United Methodist circles. But Stacey and I were the only United Methodists in the New Clergy program during the week we attended, so we were forced outside our comfort zones a bit. We lived and learned with really folks: Lutherans (my God, so many Lutherans!), Baptists, UCC, Disciples, Episcopalians, and Presbyterians. Making friends with clergy outside my own tradition was refreshing and helpful, as we learned that there is much more that unites us than divides us, and as we shared our different perspectives in such a way that a fuller picture of the Gospel and ministry emerged.

One feature of Chautauqua, though, is its intentional interfaith emphasis.  Though the new clergy present with us were all from mainline Christian denominations, Chautauqua has decided that in the 21st century, it is important to understand the world as a multifaith arena, so the Department of Religion at Chautauqua has undertaken an initiative to figure out (at a very basic level) how the Abrahamic faiths (Christianity, Islam, Judaism) can talk to one another. We had the opportunity to meet with representatives of all these religions, and I am finding myself convicted that as a religious leader, I ought to have more relationships across faith lines. What does it mean that though I have friends who are Jewish, I have no friends who are Muslim? What does it mean that I do not frequently interact with religious leaders of other faiths? There is certainly a particularity to my own religion, and I am not trying to do some kind of blending of faiths. I am a Christian, and I worship Christ without reservation. But the Abrahamic faiths share so much, and I ought to be more engaged in building these relationships. I have things to learn from other religions, and I hope they have things to learn from me. I serve in a very religiously diverse area of Georgia. I can do better.

As you can see, it was quite a week. It does my heart good to know that there is a place like Chautauqua, and when I am mired in the details of ministry, I am reminded that meaningful conversation exists. One of these days, I hope to go back and recharge those batteries, to be reminded again of what is possible.

Beauty and the purposed life

As I have spent more time living intentionally--planning my day, paying attention to discipline--I have noticed a shift in the focus of my theology. This is not to say that my theology has dramatically changed, but that I seem to be focusing on what I do in relation to God rather than what God does in relation to me. Does that make sense? By spending more tine in prayer and study and spiritual discipline, I am focusing more on my own role in God's work: the ways in which God relies upon me.

There are two dangers in this theological focus. First, you can start to think it is all up to you, that God has nothing to do with any of this business of living a life. There is a fine line between partnering with God and just taking over. I suspect this fine line is one reason why we do not often think of our role in God's plans. It is much easier to leave us out of the equation, and let God handle things.

The second danger is that you can lose beauty. If faith errs too much on the side of what you are called to do, you can miss out on being surprised by beauty, because you are so focused on the ground on which you are about to step. It is not often the case that the step in front of me is all that beautiful, though it is frequently the case that I am surrounded by beauty.

As an example: there is a park near our home where I walk each morning. It is a typical park, with baseball and soccer fields, a rec center, some woods, a paved two-mile path around the whole thing. On mornings where I am simply focused on getting my steps, I find myself focusing on the small patch of asphalt in front of me, just trying to finish walking by the appointed time so I am not late for work.

This kind of narrow focus will get you through life. You will get your steps in. It works.

But on mornings when I am not in such a hurry, I find that I focus more on my surroundings, on the woods, the children playing soccer on the weekends, the sounds of squirrels and chipmunks rousing for the day. The sun comes up, slowly, and the world comes, again, to life.

For as much as I have a role to play in God's story, there is a mystery beyond my own understanding and work. There is something which calls me outside of myself. I must be careful not to lose beauty, for without beauty, we might as well be dead.

The Upside-Down Triangle: a model for the 21st century church

(friends, let me offer a disclaimer that this post is deeply wonky. If church systems talk is what you want, read on. Otherwise, I'll be back to your regularly scheduled programming soon).

With increasing demographic evidence that the church is in transition, it has become quite popular in recent months to wonder aloud about how the church is going to survive in the twenty-first century.

I seem to get asked a lot just what I think the church is going to look like in twenty, thirty, forty years. I can only guess that I am asked this question because I am a unique specimen: a twenty-nine year-old systems-driven mainline Protestant minister. The median age of my colleagues is 55. It is clear that the church is going to look different in the coming years, if only because over half of the active clergy in the United Methodist Church will be forced into retirement in less than 17 years.

We're entering a season of unknown unknowns, and it is certainly anxiety producing. And if change within the church were not enough, the world outside the walls of the sanctuary is changing, too. There is a massive upheaval in the ways in which we interact with one another, and while I have no idea what the world will look like in ten years, I'm quite convinced that the digital revolution--and the societal implications that stem from it--is not going anywhere.

So we are left with the difficult business of figuring out how to be the church during a time in which a) the current structures within the church are not working, and b) the current structures outside the walls of the church are changing faster than they ever have. It is enough to render you useless with anxious indecision.

This brings me to that which I think will be the most important shape for the church in the coming years:

This is, of course, an upside-down triangle. I have been thinking about the upside-down triangle ever since several of my North Georgia colleagues and I spent some time with Mike Slaughter a couple of weeks ago. Slaughter talked about his model for leadership at Ginghamsburg Church. Rather than the traditional top-down model, with committees at the bottom and the pastor on top, Slaughter thinks of his leadership in the church as being at the bottom of the triangle, pushing ideas and encouraging servants up and through the top of the triangle, so that the witness of the church is multiplied rather than being filtered down (and filtered out) through committees.

This model of leadership is vastly different than most churches I have witnessed. So many pastors, (legitimately) fearing lack of control, cling to the model with the pastor on top. After all, in the United Methodist Church, we call senior pastors "pastors-in-charge," and everybody knows that the person in charge sits at the top and peers down.

The traditional model seems to have worked great in an old paradigm of church where corporate hierarchy reigned supreme, but it does not match a culture that is more and more decentralized. The digital revolution has changed power dynamics so much that rather than some orderly, streamlined system of power, we are dealing now with something that looks more like this:

I like clear lines of responsibility more than most, but clear lines are not the hallmark of human interactions any longer. We are dealing with networks now, and while networks have their own challenges, the good news (as anybody who has used the internet knows) is that networks harness energy and use it far more efficiently than top-down leadership.

While lines of authority are not as clear in this model, by no means does it remove hierarchy altogether. One reason I'm proud to be a United Methodist is that responsibility and authority are important to me. I have great respect, for instance, for the authority of the Bishop; I find supervision to be vital. The upside-down triangle does not replace authority, however. Rather, the model inverts authority to maximize its power! After all, the triangle still has, at one end, a singular point, an authority. The challenge in our modern context is figuring out how to leverage that authority.

The place that pastoral authority is most clearly leveraged, of course, is in the sermon. The sermon is the one time during the week that there is only one voice speaking, at least aloud, and it gives the pastor a unique opportunity to drive the vision of the church through the proclamation of the Word.

The old model of the sermon was certainly used in this way, in that the preacher began the sermon by offering a point, and then expanding that point to offer applications. Basically, the preacher told people what the Bible said and then told them what to do with it. This model of sermon looked something like this:

and it worked in a context that understood top-down authority, as the model is predicated upon being told what Truth looks like (the "point") and what ought to be done about it. But modern contexts and networks being what they are, it is no longer the case that something is deemed true just because it is spoken. Something is true because, for better or worse, the hearer hears truth within it. The congregation needs to be convinced. I am reminded of Howard Thurman's notion that "something is not true because it is in religion. Something is in religion because it is true."

Fred Craddock takes the traditional model and turns it upside down, so that it looks like this:

where the preacher begins at the top with stories ("particular applications," he calls them) and then narrows until he leaves the congregation with the point. There are several benefits to this model. First, as as been noted, the model has the benefit of "convincing" the congregation of the particular truth, or at least offering examples that show its authenticity, before driving the point home. This upside-down ("inductive") method of preaching recognizes the unique value of networks and the inherent authority of the listener, empowering the listener to "go along" with the preacher as the preacher journeys from particular applications to a specific truth.

Even more than this, this inductive method recognizes that the world is decentralized: that while authority comes from God, it is not centered solely on the preacher, and it does not come without the difficult work of demonstrating authenticity.

The world is lived in multiplicity: a multiplicity of opinions, a multiplicity of truths, a multiplicity of options. Authenticity is especially important in a world where anyone with a blog (even me) is a pundit. I can find anyone who espouses any opinion, and quick.

We live in a world of multiplicity, and the preacher's job is to leverage the upside-down triangle by moving from multiplicity (the top of the triangle), slowly narrowing until he or she reaches the point of the sermon. The point, of the sermon, of course, is God.

The two upside-down triangles work in tandem. In leadership, you start from the bottom (the leader), pushing up through the ranks until the vision is multiplied and expanded. In the sermon, you start from the top (the multiplicity of places where the ranks already are) and narrow and scrape until only the authentic is left.

New societal norms dictate new church models. This does not mean that the church must bend to every whim of the world. But it does mean that the church must take seriously the ways in which humans interact, lest it become even more irrelevant. This is not a low-stakes game, after all.

God Grant Us Peace, a hymn

God grant us peace where war is never-ending

And give us hope when all ‘round is despair.

For though it seems as if the world is broken

And mem’ry gives the only veil of care,

You once again remind us of your mercy

And call us to repentant humble prayer.

Thy will be done on earth as in Heaven.

Forgive our debts, and help us to forgive.

Give us this day our daily bread and spur us

To share that bread so all may truly live.

May others see your image deep within us

And may we see your face when e’er we give.

O God of peace, division overwhelms us

And violence points us towards an angry place.

Instead of using anger as a weapon

You turn the unjust table on its face.

Remind us still, that in the resurrection,

No one can steal the vict’ry of your grace.

(Finlandia)

Coffee, church, and religious baggage

I found myself at a coffee shop yesterday with some friends I hadn't seen in a while. I am not much of a coffee shop person (perhaps I am simply too introverted), but I don't have anything against coffee shops, persay. I am grateful for shared space to visit or work. I'm just not ingrained in that culture.

So I was not entirely surprised when, having asked the barrista for a tall iced decaf, he rolled his eyes at me, looked around to see if anybody had heard what he thought to a request ridiculous on its face, looked back at me and said, with a hint of derision, "You want regular?! We don't serve regular iced decaf here."

Well.

Here I thought I came in to get a coffee, and now I'm getting a lecture on acceptable coffee orders, as if my request clearly had too few adjectives to be a legitimate order. I didn't want a double non-fat extra-hot whatever whatever. I just wanted a coffee that wasn't hot (as we were sitting outside) and that wouldn't keep me up all night (because I am like an infant when it comes to afternoon caffeine consumption).

I fully admit that perhaps the moment was not quite as dramatic as I am making it sound. Perhaps the barrista was not actually judging me for a coffee order he found totally pedestrian. Maybe, just maybe, I have some coffee shop baggage that makes me assume that everybody behind the counter thinks he is better than I am.

All of this has me thinking about that other great shared space, the church. Unlike coffee shops, church is a culture in which I am ingrained, a language I do speak. I can walk up to the altar rail and know exactly what to say to the guy behind it. Heck, I am the guy behind the altar rail, and I have to wonder how people who are not used to church view me. I am well aware that people have church baggage--don't assume your pastor doesn't have some, too--but the challenge for the welcoming church is to welcome people AND their bags. The congregation should be full of porters, people who welcome and who offer to help carry those bags, because they are heavy and many of us have been carrying them for a long, long time.

This kind of hospitality is not exactly an easy sell, for those of us who are doing the welcoming are stuck in a system we already know how to navigate. We push back at the idea that we need to bend over backwards to accept those outside our walls, because it is so much work! It is enough to try to keep the doors open and the lights on, but doing anything else? It just seems too much.

But doing the difficult work of welcome to those who have religious baggage is even more important, for if we neglect this duty, we neglect our responsibility to those outside our doors. I would even go so far as to say that people with religious baggage are exactly the kind of people who need the church, the kind of people Jesus described as "weary and heavy-laden," the people Christ offered rest. These folks won't come to Christ unless we go to them, unless we offer a hospitable place where it is acknowledged that everyone has baggage--here, let me carry that for you--and all people, regardless of whatever culture it is in which they are ingrained, all people are welcomed and invited to take part in God's story.

This is work, but it is holy work, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it is the most important work in the whole world.

As for me, I'm not planning on going back to that coffee shop. The guy behind the counter made it pretty clear that I don't belong there.

An election hymn

God of grace who binds the broken,

Heal us til division ends.

In this season of election,

When we’re strangers more than friends,

Be our comfort, be our healer,

As we seek to do thy will

In our politics and all things

Thy commandment to fulfill.

Though it seems so never-ending,

And designed that we ignore

Your command to greet the stranger,

Heal the sick and feed the poor.

Give us strength to be your people

And to see the ways you call

In our lives and, yes, our voting,

To show charity to all.

Help us see past this election

And remember we are yours,

For allegiance is much larger

than a flag or human wars.

O, in all things God of wisdom,

grant that we might truly see,

the face of Christ in every person

even when we disagree.

87.87 D

Nettleton (alt tunes Hyfrydol, Promise)