Category Archives: The Church

Articles concerning the life and mission of the Church.

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Disorganized Religion and Disliking People

I’m growing weary of listening to people say that they distrust “organized religion.” Religion has nothing to do with it. What they really mean is that they distrust people.

Before any readers assume the following to be a rant in favor of religious traditionalism, let me be very clear about what I mean. I’m not advocating a certain style of worship or defending a particular denomination of Christianity. Rather, my weariness comes more from sadness and disappointment than with any personal offense that is taken. Of course, as an ordained minister, I am quite susceptible to insult when I hear people say things like, “I just don’t agree with organized religion anymore,” or “I believe in God, but I reject organized religion.” What these people are insinuating is that while I have surrendered my life to what is actually a very organized and structured system of faith, they’ve shrugged it off because it cramps their style. Ultimately, one of us is guilty of severe naivety.

Now, if you believe in a blending of relativism and syncretism when it comes to spirituality, then you are more than able to get away with rejecting “organized religion.” Syncretism is an attempted amalgamation of different religions, cultures and ideologies. It’s the salad bar of religious expression. Relativism is the belief that knowledge and morality are expressed and understood differently depending on the culture or society in which you live – thus, truth is relative as opposed to absolute. Put the two together and you can mix and match and pick and choose the exact kind of spirituality that works for you – the perfect salad!

Go ahead and throw some chocolate pudding on there, too. That's not weird at all.

Go ahead and throw some chocolate pudding on there, too. That’s not weird at all.

I’m never sure what word people dislike more, “organized” or “religion.” I often want to respond to people who complain about “organized religion” by simply asking, “So, does that mean you subscribe to disorganized religion, or organized atheism?” In other words, what alternative do you believe in? Any system of faith that has no order or structure is, by nature, chaotic. It breeds confusion and disorder. There can be no unifying belief and therefore no dependable sense of community. People who reject organized religion, whether they know it or not, uphold a belief that any expression of faith is a solitary enterprise if it holds any meaning at all. Not only is it all about you and God, but it’s up to you and you alone to determine exactly what this God of yours is like.

Hmm... I think I'll make him a God who forgives. Unless you're gay, a Democrat, or watch R-rated movies.

Hmm… I think I’ll make him a God who forgives. Unless you’re gay, a Democrat, or watch R-rated movies.

As I said at the start of this, it’s not religion that these self-described non-conformists have a problem with. Religion has always been the fall guy for people. It’s not that I don’t understand this. However, as an ordained minister, one of the most difficult tasks I face is trying to defend religion to people who have been betrayed by certain religious malcontents. I’ll give you an example:

A young man grows up Catholic, attends an authoritarian Catholic school, and is molested by one of the priests. In his anger and his shame, he holds a grudge against both the criminal who took advantage of him and the particular form of religious expression that that man apparently represented. (Nevermind the fact that the minute that priest subjected a child to his selfish human desires, he rejected the spirit of the very faith he was supposed to live as an example of.) Allegations against the priest arise, but little or nothing is done to hold him accountable. The abused man finds no justice; therefore, he very logically puts a distance between himself and everything that smacks of that crooked priest, including his church, his school, the local diocese, and the Catholic Church itself. Perhaps if the leaders of his church had immediately dealt with the priest’s transgression, the young man would retain some trust of that particular religious organization. However, in both cases, it was not the system but the people who failed him. It was the people who did not embody and maintain the call to faithfulness and righteousness that their religion espouses and venerates.

"I'm a Chevy owner now also because that jerk drove a Ford!"

“I’m a Chevy owner now also because that jerk drove a Ford!”

Several years ago, there was a slogan that was often seen slapped across car bumpers and printed on T-shirts. It read, “I’m not religious, I just love the Lord.” As if the Beatles were right and love is really all you need. No rules. No traditions. Certainly no silly rituals. Just love, baby. Love! But even Christians who preach such an alleged truth have stripped Love of its full power and position. According to the New Testament, while love is the highest and greatest expression of one’s faith, it is by no means the only thing. The Apostle Paul reminds the church in Colossae to “clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony,” (3:14), and he explained to the church in Galatia that while following rules and religious regulations may seem important, what really matters is faith “made effective through love.” Love must be the end result of all others aspects of a faith system – the final unifying theme of one’s religious expression.

It’s hard to keep from blaming Religion for all the bad things religious people have done. Sweeping generalizations are easier and more compelling than separating the glimmering needles from the smelly haystack. Over the last few centuries, many people, from Karl Marx to Sigmund Freud to George Orwell to John Lennon to Richard Dawkins to Bill Maher, have boldly spoken out about the inherent evils and detriments of Religion in all its many forms. But whether they admit it or not, Religion isn’t the problem. Just the crappy way some people live out their religious beliefs. I’ve written before that blaming religion for all of the world’s ills is akin to burning all the cotton and tobacco fields of the American South simply because there were once a slew of culturally racist individuals who forced others to toil in those fields. It’s not the cotton and tobacco fields’ fault that some people are stubborn and violent fools.

In other words, when we shift the blame off of people, we insinuate that Religion itself has inherently sinister motives. This is scapegoating by way of personification. This is stating that it influences us, and only in negative ways. If this were the case, we would be hard-pressed to find religious individuals who have influenced the world for good, but, of course, that task is not difficult at all.

Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Theresa, Mr. Eko from Lost, the dad from 7th Heaven... Need I go on?

Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Theresa, Mr. Eko from Lost, the dad from 7th Heaven… Need I go on?

Finally, to all those who have supposedly rejected “organized religion” – especially to those people who have rejected the word “Christian” for the less traditional-sounding “follower of Jesus,” or have decided that, like Marcus Mumford, it shall be mum’s the word on what one specifically believes – I make one final argument. It seems that in doing away with this stuffy and frustrating organized religion, the one thing you refuse to relinquish is belief in a loving and gracious God. In fact, when pressed, you become even more uncomfortable with the concept of God’s judgment and holiness. It’s all about love, baby. Love!

But ask yourself where that concept of a loving God first came from? Not merely a god who would look down in conciliating acceptance once you offered up the right sacrifice or performed the proper deed, but a God whose mercy is wide. A God whose nature, at its center, is Love. This isn’t a theological concept common to all religions throughout time. As a matter of fact, there are only two specific religions in which this characteristic is found to be at the heart of God. Unfortunately for the syncretists, neither fits in well at the salad bar. Sorry.

My point is, don’t let bad people steal your hope in the good. Don’t let cruel people rob you of your joy. Don’t turn your back on the grandeur and the beauty just because some misguided soul with an obnoxiously big hat sat in front of you and blocked your view. Lean over a bit, or move a few seats down. The show goes on, and it is more than worth the price of admission.

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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.

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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. 

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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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De-Sanitize Me

I think that the Church is the only thing that is going to make the terrible world we are coming to endurable; the only thing that makes the Church endurable is that is it somehow the body of Christ and that on this we are fed. It seems to be a fact that you have to suffer as much from the Church as for it, but if you believe in the divinity of Christ, you have to cherish the world at the same time that you struggle to endure it.      - Flannery O’Connor

This morning I was talking with a couple of guys who work here at BFA about the waywardness of American Christianity, or, to be more specific so as not to generalize and offend, the ways in which our “Christian” upbringing completely missed the point. Now, sitting in a little office meeting area in the early hours of a new day as outside the dawn breaks upon Germany all blue and frozen, it was hard not to feel an inkling as if we were talking about America behind its back. However, I know that the only reason I find myself interested in discussing such things is that I am genuinely concerned for the allegiance to God’s kingdom that is slowly and consistently dissolving within my home country. I think many would agree that sometimes you have to separate yourself from something (or someone) in order to understand your relationship with that thing (or person) in a clearer light. 

Mainly what we were remarking was how much we notice the American Church upholds a sanitized faith. What I mean by this is that the reason most so-called Christians in America do not faithfully live out a dynamic, transformational relationship with the Christ is they believe very little of their lifestyle plays out counter to his message and will. We have all known people who assume they will wind up in Heaven one day because they were “good,” or at least because they did more good deeds than bad. We Christians tend to shake our heads at that relativistic logic. However, so many of us uphold the same idea without really noticing what we are doing. If we truly cultivated a full awareness of God’s intimate participation within our lives – if we learned how to practice the presence of God in our day to day lives – I do not think we would continue to perpetuate certain beliefs and attitudes, let alone commit certain deeds. I am not referring to such specific things such as that old, principled resolution to not watch R-rated movies or to abstain from alcohol. Quite the contrary. It is resolutions such as these that reveal the very sanitization about which I am writing, not because they are misguided or pointless decisions, but because they often reflect a person’s desire to avoid the world based on the belief that the world (a.k.a. the “secular” world), being secular and unredeemed, can only corrupt; it cannot bless. Therefore, one should avoid the darkest parts.

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I remember owning an old, 8-bit Nintendo game distributed by a Christian company that offered a Legend of Zelda-like gaming experience. Instead of pieces of a “Triforce,” the hero was searching for the different pieces of the armor of God. They lay hidden all over a city. While the player commenced to searching the parks, streets, basements and shops of the city, he avoided being waylaid by undesirable punks and conniving tempters by hurling actual pieces of fruit at them. These human obstacles would then either drop to their knees in prayer (supposedly for salvation) or turn into winged demons that would flap towards you, requiring more Fruit of the Spirit projectiles to repel them. If this weren’t absurd enough, I recall one harrowing period of game play where I diligently searched everywhere for the Breastplate of Righteousness. When my options of hiding places dried up, I chose to enter a building with a sign out front that read, “BAR,” figuring that perhaps the object of my search was concealed in its basement or somewhere similar. However, to my utter shock and game-playing anger, I was immediately greeted by an angel in all its 8-bit video glory, sporting a disapproving look and informing me that I had no business in bars. This divine messenger then proceeded to take away my Belt of Truth and Helmet of Salvation, as well as my ability to fling Apples of Joy and Pears of Peace at bad guys. I was forced to start the game all over.

Sanitization. The world is dangerous. It cannot be trusted, and no good can be found within it.

Not only does this idea perpetuate an us vs. them ideology, but it only serves to make most Christians believe that if they avoid the world they are somehow living as genuine Christians, when in reality they are living only sanitized, “Christian” lives. The distance between these two lifestyles is as vast as the Pacific, and it can be frighteningly tumultuous to cross from one side to the other, not the least reason of which is that, typically, you find yourself voyaging alone.

May we not be afraid of the world or tremble in the darkness. Cultivating a full awareness of God’s presence means that he is with us even there. May we rest assured in his light, and may we take this light and shine it into the darkness to expose the beauty and wonder that is hidden within.

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