Category Archives: The Church

4 Questions You Should Pose to Your Church

Over the last six months of my ministry job search, I’ve had to learn that, despite needing a job, and despite desperately wanting to begin participating within a new local church, the inconvenience of “fitting in” is an important caveat. Qualifications aside, not every person fits well with every community, and its up to the grace of God to reveal the right place for each minister seeking to serve.

In the meantime, as I do my best to submit to this lesson of patience and wisdom, I have come to consider four essential questions regarding the kind of faith community I hope to work for. Often, I can err on the side of idealism, so it is always important that the observations instigated by these questions be considered with the proverbial grain of salt. However, if and when I finally do hear from a pastor or rector or search committee interested in calling me on staff, these will be the four questions I will silently ask the church before I accept or reject the place as my new church home.

 #1 – Are you intentional?

I want to work for a church that is about something, that knows it is about something, and is clearly committed and focused on this “something,” whatever it may be. In other words, I want to serve in a church that maintains a clear sense of intentionality regarding its identity. A church that is intentional is one that puts purposiveness over approachability. They are careful not to water down their message and their focus so as to appeal to the lowest common denominator of congregants. Rather, they infuse everything they do – from worship to teaching to pastoral care to outreach – with steadfast determination to holiness, reverence and awareness for the sacred. They want to be relevant and bring people in, of course; however, they do this not by dumbing down or softening the truth, but by working diligently and prayerfully to make the truth compelling.

The intentional church strives to be a place of genuine renewal and authentic, lasting interaction. It is not a community center or a country club. It does not exist merely to exemplify moral living or uphold particular family values. It inspires an honest-to-God devotion to holiness rather than dictating the forced manifestation of “holy” activities. Above all, it spurns conformity in its members, and instead awakens true community.

Which bring us to the second question…

# 2 – Are you communal?

There is an old adage that much of the work of a local church defers to the “80/20 rule.” That is, roughly 80% of the work is done by 20% of the people. Whether it’s a mega-church that sees thousands in its auditorium on Sunday, or a tiny country church with an attendance in the mere double-digits, the same sad rule is, sadly, proven true all over the country. The question is, why is this the case in so many churches?

I submit that, like intentionality of purpose, the drive for authentic communal interaction can sometimes take a backseat to peaking the curiosity of visitors and charming its participants with powerful music and/or exciting opportunities. While excellence in what you do is certainly important, I want to be a part of a community of faith that puts interaction between its members – across age groups! – central. Small groups and dinner clubs and Bible classes and ministry teams are all good things, but they can sometimes be nothing more than the default attempt to forge connections and stimulate cooperation between church members. Often, it is the leaders of such groups that do most of the work to maintain the group, once again perpetuating the 80/20 rule.

The church I am seeking to work in is one that energizes all its members, rousing them to determined participation and providing as many opportunities as possible for each person to use his or her own gifts and talents to edify the congregation, not to mention the greater community.

And what about that greater community?…

#3 – Are you missional?

I would be hard-pressed to find a church that does not support mission, through either prayer, financial giving, or even sending out its own, both home and abroad. This is a fundamental tenet of the life of a Christian – representing the Gospel of Jesus Christ to a world in need. However, there is a difference between obligatory participation in particular mission opportunities, and infusing your purpose with the spirit of missionality. Often, ministers will divide up the responsibilities of the Christian life into categories like personal devotion, intercession, theological understanding, moral living and missional duty. On any given Sunday, most church services will contain a sermon focusing, usually, on only one of these aspects. The problem with this is that a church’s overall message can become compartmentalized, and, by extension, so can that church’s overall behavior. Without meaning to, a church’s drive toward missions becomes less about a deep sense of compassion existing in its people, and more about prescribed obedience to a mandate.

The church that I hope to serve in is one that recognizes that everything, including our sense of mission to the world, comes from the position of each person’s heart toward God and His kingdom. Therefore, a missions identity must be intricately woven into every aspect of the church, from worship to teaching to activity. Not only so, it must allow for response in a myriad of ways and always be ready to reevaluate its involvement in the world – to consider the fruit that it is bearing.

This is because a true community of faith is never stagnant. It is ever-changing and adapting to the world it is committed to serving…

#4 – Are you alterable?

I want to serve in a church that is self-aware – of their strengths as well as their limitations – and is dedicated to challenging themselves into deeper and more profound avenues of communion with the Holy. This last question may seem unnecessary and the answer a given. After all, we’re talking about a church, here. That’s what a church – any church – is about, right?

Not necessarily. I have known many churches that, if they are honest with themselves, are about little more than doing worship in their own comfortable way, teaching the Bible in their own non-confrontational way, and fellowshipping with one another in their own psuedo-personal way. They may draw visitors in by the busloads, they may have a dynamite children’s program, they may have a multiple Dove award-winning praise band, but when it comes to the question of meaning and direction, they’re fine right where they are. They have established themselves in what seems to be a quality manner, so there is no point in changing things. God forbid some people don’t like the new direction and abandon the community?

Some of the most “successful” churches in America today are actually captives to fear and they don’t even know it. Fear of change. Change means shaking up the standard way of doing things that has been proven (and may or may not be formulaic), and that fills people with anxiety. I’m not talking about change for the sake of change, but rather change because the Spirit is calling a community to be about something they are currently neglecting.

A church is a living thing. Remember the little rhyme – “open the door and see all the people.” It is people who make a church what it is, who define it and collaborate within it and administer God’s love through it. The only way it can do these things is if the people are ready to be whatever God wants them to be at whatever time He wants them to be it. This is called readiness. Awareness.

May more and more faith communities strive to be exactly what they were always meant to be.


A Makeshift Eucharist

While reading a small theological book a few weeks ago, I realized to my embarrassment that my brain had obviously sprung a leak. A great deal of the information I soaked up in seminary regarding Church history and the foundation of various theological and biblical interpretations had inadvertently trickled out through the crack. I have plans to swing by the local German equivalent of Home Depot and purchase some Spackle to repair the breach, but how to replace that knowledge? Fortunately, I noticed that, for whatever reason, I had toted Justo Gonzalez’s two-volume work, The Story of Christianity, with me to Germany. I’ve been refreshing my memory on the exploits of the Church for the last two weeks. Tragic stuff, really – the Roman Empire just fell to Alaric and his Goths; I wonder what’s going to happen next…

Reading again through a blow-by-blow of the Church’s triumphant and tragic, sordid and sanctifying history has done what I hoped it would do. It has brought the foundational reasons for so many misunderstood or outright ignored traditions back to the scope of my eyes and the examination of my mind. For several years, I have pursued a more traditional (one might go so far as to call it symbolic, or *gasp* ritualistic) method of personal and corporate worship. In many ways, I see much of the early Church’s activities to be the origin of this odd desire in me to connect more deeply to grace of God, the reality of Christ and the strangely beautiful gusting of the Spirit.

Last night, I was afforded just such an opportunity to see how, even after roughly two thousand years, these symbols have not lost their power. And if this is not an encouragement that the word of God – and the truth of salvation in Christ – as expressed in the action of the Church is not alive and well in our ironic, postmodern, chaotic world, I don’t know what is.

Friends and fellow missionaries, Mark and Susan Powell (of St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal in Nashville, TN) invited myself (of the Anglican Church of Basel, Switzerland by way of River Oaks Baptist Church in Houston, TX), as well as a few others (hailing from other established communities of faith) into their living room to participate in the Lord’s Supper. Friends from their church in Tennessee were visiting, and they had brought consecrated elements along with them in order to observe this deeply sacramental command of the Savior.

I came in to the evening extremely stressed. The day before, Leigh and I were informed that the personnel office at Black Forest Academy was terminating the contract on our apartment, which, despite our plans to move to a new place in Kandern in mid-June, would make us responsible for full rent on our current place through at least the end of July. With all the worry and frazzled preparation for the new baby, not to mention the completion of school year responsibilities, this was not welcome news. Financial support is low, and as soon as I was informed of this, I immediately knew that finding the money to cover the problem was going to be next to impossible.

And so, I walked up the steep hill to the Powell’s house weighed down more by the frustration and stress of the current situation than the rain that lightly splattered my hooded raincoat. I put on a cheerful face, but, truthfully, even as I stepped into the house, I had no idea why I had chosen to keep my commitment to come. If anyone had a valid excuse to pass on the evening, it would have been me. However, the thought of sitting down with friends and partaking of the Eucharist seemed more than important – it seemed imperative. If I could not remember and honor the sacrifice of my Savior, then I might as well step back into the personnel office the next day and tell them I was closing up the whole darn show and moving back home.

The Powell’s friends read the collect. They read the Prayers of the People. Susan read from the Psalms. And then Mark offered the gospel reading. Matthew 6:25-34. Do not worry about your life … Consider the lilies of the field … Seek first the kingdom of God … Tomorrow will worry about itself … Each day has enough trouble of its own.

As I received the wafer – “The body of Christ broken for you” – and drank from the Cup of Salvation – “The blood of Christ shed for the sins of the world” – I realized that time and time again people in dire straits have received the elements. The broken, bleeding body of the Savior is to be remembered not merely for his triumph, but for his identification as one torn apart by the world. Yesterday, I was torn. Last night, I was torn. This morning, still torn. But in the living room of the Powells, before the Schwarzwaldkuchen and coffee was served, I acknowledged, in a very deep way, my relationship not only with Christ and the other worshippers in the room, but with the great history of the Church.

This Church which has ended wars and incited them. This Church which has written books and burned them. This Church which has venerated supposed martyrs and martyred supposed heretics. This Church which considers the lilies and then considers the measurements of the cathedrals erected on top of them. This Church which struggles to stay together in the face of great controversy only to splinter when faced with the most insignificant of differences.

I am essentially the same. I am saint and sinner. I am a member of a dysfunctional family. And the traditions are not symptoms of a sickness, but evidence of an ever-present salvation that I will never be able to fully express in words.

So I thank God for theology books and volumes of Church history and rainy days and wombs with kicking babies and warm living rooms and faithful friends and consecrated bread and wine and Schwarzwaldkucken and freshly ground coffee and … in some strange way I still don’t quite understand … for frustrations and stresses that come upon us. Being plunged into darkness is a great way to appreciate the Light that never leaves or forsakes us. 


Searching for Samaritans

So, here is the problem that has kept me from this blog as of late.

Leigh and I are out of money.

When you work as missionaries, this is a significant problem. When you work as missionaries who are required to raise their own support, this is a catastrophe.

It all comes down to the fact that eighteen months ago, as Leigh and I were engaged in initial fundraising before leaving for the field, we received numerous gifts from supporters, many of whom attended the church where I worked and we worshipped. These gifts came in the form of one-time donations rather than monthly contributions. But these monies were sufficient, and allowed us to live comfortably for the first year. However, upon sending out letters to these same supporters last September, we received a repeat gift from only one family. The rest of the requests went unanswered. This took our support from 100% to 37% in the span of a mere two months. We have been forced to rely solely upon the gifts of supporters who donate monthly, and though these people are saints, the cumulative amount of monthly donations is simply not enough to keep us on the field.

We discovered this paucity in our finances a few weeks ago, and while “quarantined” at home to avoid Swine Flu, we spent our days writing letters, updating our website and sending e-mails to as many people as we could think of who might be willing to give. Metaphorically, we have dropped to our knees before these people, hat in hand, pleading with them to consider supporting us financially. The simple fact is, if these pleas fall on too many deaf ears, we will be forced to pack our belongings and leave the mission field during the Christmas holidays. As such, we will leave the school high and dry in a year where everyone is already struggling to cope with a lack of staff. Who will teach the 11th grade class if I leave over the break? I do not know, and, sadly, neither does the administration.

Often, I deny any thought that my life truly affects others, at least in a straight-forward way. I see now that it most certainly does. But sometimes, even that is not enough reason for potential supporters to become committed supporters.

This is a discouraging time, though not in the way you might think. While it is hard to hear back from people who tell you they cannot or will not support you, what is most discouraging is when you do not hear back from people at all. Even in an hour of extreme need, people simply ignore your e-mails, throw aside your letters, and avoid your calls. Discourtesy is an understatement. Whether or not this reflects a selfishness or an arrogance in my attitude, how can I not feel like the Jew beaten on the side of the road, watching through one swollen, bloodied, half-open eye as the Priest and the Levite, who have the means, pass by me because they do not have the heart? This brings me to one simple truth about fundraising.

Fundraising is, essentially, searching for Samaritans.

Leigh and I wait, and are surprised by, the unlikely supporters. The people who are willing to give whatever they can to help, and are willing to do so without condition, without even an assurance that success will come as a result of their gift. We are praying for Samaritans who will encounter our condition, be it through e-mails, letters, or blog posts, and find themselves unable to look away. The Priests and the Levites perpetuate the biggest hindrance in a missionary’s efforts – that is, “out of sight, out of mind.” So many people find it so easy to look away. It is the Samaritan, the most unlikely of givers, who find they simply can’t ignore the problem, no matter how much it might inconvenience them.

Yesterday, Leigh and I received word from a friend of ours here at Black Forest Academy. She is a fellow missionary, struggling her own self to maintain her finances. Yet she finds herself in a much more manageable situation than we do, and so with her own gifted funds, she has committed to supporting us $50 per month for as long as we need, or as long as she is able. This came as an extraordinary shock. One missionary, who has every excuse in the world not to stop and tend the wounded (since they so often are the wounded), still indulging a willingness to give. That is stewardship at its most beautiful.

That is true Samaritanness.

We are struggling. We do not know if we will have to say a too-soon good-bye to this mission field we love. But still, we search for Samaritans, and we pray that God would make us into them as well.


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