Michigan church pastor Rob Bell has once again wandered off the reservation. His latest book, Love Wins, is making evangelical leaders’ heads spin off their necks. He has been branded a “heretic” for his theological conclusions. I don’t mind calling things as they are; what troubles me is that the playbook upon which I based much of my ministry is not looking so ironclad these days. I am having trouble these days deciding just who the heretics really are.
Who’s the heretic? We all are. American evangelicalism embraces a concept of God, what motivates Him, and how we are to interact with Him, that might just be completely foreign to the minds and intentions of a large portion of Christ-followers in the first four centuries of the Church’s existence. To be more specific, my gut tells me that the guys who wrote the New Testament might not have the slightest clue how we come to some of our conclusions about God and His dealings with creation.
On this end of history it is easy, and quite natural, to assume that what we know and how we perceive truth is the way things really are. One problem with that involves the genesis of the very human culture upon which our knowledge base sits. In other words, the worldview of Western culture pushes all of us—theological thinkers, too—to see and understand our world, and even God, through a couple of dirty lenses. One of those lenses comes from a guy in North Africa. Another comes from Europe of the seventeenth century.
Augustine, our erudite African bishop in the fifth century, was a brilliant man. He happened to be steeped in the categories of Greek philosophy. So he applied this perspective on truth to God and the human condition. He cast God’s relationship with humanity in a legal framework, and these writings became one of the foundational philosophical cornerstones of Western culture. This legal paradigm permeates the Western worldview. Consider how strongly we are attached to this perspective: we sit in our well-defined traffic lanes waiting for the light to tell us to proceed; we react strongly to people “taking cuts” in lines; we must have clear winners and losers in law, sports and relationships. “Right” and “wrong” dominate our choices. Having traveled the world where other dynamics hold priority, and having lived on a continent where a different worldview dominates people’s interactions with their world (honor and shame versus right and wrong), I have experienced the stark contrast.
This cultural cornerstone has had its impact on religion, too. How often have we seen Christian groups fighting with each other over their perspective on “truth” with more intensity than they fight the devil and the grip of this world for human souls? Isn’t that why church signs have advertized “Baptist” or “Pentecostal” or “Methodist”? It’s to let those on the “inside” know if this particular fellowship agrees with my theology—they are “right” while the others are “wrong.” As a sidebar, I was part of the pastoral generation in the 1980s and 1990s that removed denominational labels from church names. At least in my mind, it was because we live in a world where religious “brand loyalty” no longer applies; denominational monikers didn’t attract new people, and in fact, confused church-seekers. This was part and parcel of the church growth movement, pandering to market forces and consumer interests. That, in itself, is worthy of another blog post but is off-track here.
Another dirty lens is Modernism. As a philosophical movement, it fueled a cultural shift to embrace the Enlightenment’s insistence on science as the preeminent arbiter of truth versus error and explains everything in mechanical terms. This was the dominant cultural perspective of the 19th century. Consider that the majority of systematic theologies still used today were written during that period, and only updated/expanded upon in the last century.
Most of our theological formation in the US has been along these lines. Consider the definition of the word “forensic”: relating to or dealing with the application of scientific knowledge to legal problems. This is precisely the ground in which the roots of evangelicalism lie: it is how we have grown up understanding God, His agenda, and the Atonement. Popularized by the seminal American theologian, Jonathan Edwards (“Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”—think for a moment how that one sermon has shaped and captured American theological thinking!), systematized by modernist “scientific” theologians in the 19th century like Hodge and Strong, forensic theology blossoms in early 20th century fundamentalism and eventually present-day evangelicalism.
What all this leads to is an emphasis in Christian ministry on the salvation event, because this is the crux of the legal problem. If it is true that sinners are in the hands of an angry God, and the Atonement was acted out in heaven’s courtroom before the Judge, then our greatest duty is to get sinners out of their present “guilty” condition. Once the status of the “sinner” has been changed to “saint,” we have unconsciously satisfied the one legal item in our modernist Christian worldview that really matters. It was, according to our forensic theology and “The Four Spiritual Laws,” the reason why Jesus left heaven to visit Earth.
Could this be one of the reasons why evangelicalism has had such a good track record in making converts, but such poor success in turning converts into true disciples? Maybe this helps explain why a Billy Graham can gain celebrity status for conversion event crusades (with admittedly abysmal recidivism rates) and why a pamphlet like “The Four Spiritual Laws” gains such uncritical acceptance and widespread use. Since the emphasis in Western church culture is on the initial conversion act, evangelicalism is curiously deficient in terms of Great Commission impact. You know, the whole “make disciples” thing.
This paradigm, to some degree, explains why evangelicals so easily gravitate toward abandoning their harvest fields in favor of huddling together to protect themselves from being tainted by the world (why else is there a “Christian Business Directory”?). What do most denominational names indicate? Could it be that the primary element of our corporate self-identification has traditionally been more about what separates us from others (exclusion) than what we have to offer to our world (inclusion)?
Maybe this also helps explain why Western culture, once a captive audience to the message of Christianity, would rather turn anywhere else than embrace the picture of God we have meticulously painted. We present a picture of cultural cognitive dissonance: “God loves you; God is love; but He is so angry over sin that He actually severed relationship with Jesus himself as he hung on the cross. If He would do that to the only sinless man who ever lived, then how far away has God turned from you?” Who would want to get closer to a God who hates their very essence? If we look at evangelical theology, we have to conclude that Jesus found himself in that camp, too.
Let’s consider that moment in time when forensic theology insists that the Father turned away from the Son as he bore the sins of humanity on the cross. If that truly happened, then we must conclude that the Trinity ceased to exist during that time. Modernist theology has no explanation for this paradox. Belief in the Trinity is foundational to orthodox theology, but the logical conclusion here using modernist/forensic theology is that God’s wrath actually caused Himself to cease existing. Even if the Trinity was fractured for the briefest of moments, this means we are all in a puddle of doo-doo.
Let’s use this as an exercise in worldview: Jesus, on the cross, shouts, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).
Our modern assumption is that this verbal outburst confirms that Jesus was feeling the weight of sin and the separation from God that it caused. For the first time, Jesus felt the devastation of abandonment as the Father turned from sin. Therefore, the modernist says, this is proof that things are the way I see them.
But perhaps the reality is a bit different. Jesus’ physical reality was one of ultimate torture: agony in pain from dislocated joints, flesh raw from beating and subsequent up-and-down movement to try to breathe; hyperventilation; loss of blood. He is gasping for breath and yells out what he can. What he did was commonly practiced by his fellow countrymen—especially with the Psalms. A vast percentage of adult males present would have instantly known exactly what psalm Jesus referenced (Psalm 22); most of them would be able to recite it by heart. If you start a song everyone else knows, everyone else finishes it (precisely what the psalms were) and nobody questions what deeper meaning you had in saying just the opening line. The song stands complete.
So what Jesus did was strategically start a song that has some very interesting verses which apply directly and dramatically to his immediate situation. Besides being a clear literary illustration of the ravages of crucifixion centuries before the practice was used by Rome (12-18), the psalm pointedly states that God will never abandon His holy one or turn His face away (24). It ends with “It is finished” in Hebrew—in the English versions it looks like “he has done it.” Now where do we hear that from Jesus’ mouth? By finishing the song in the last moments of his life, Jesus confirms from beginning to end this psalm’s statement of ultimate relationship in the midst of ultimate suffering. Jesus is never, for one second, abandoned by God to face his worst day ever completely on his own.
Should we believe that God turned His back on Jesus for even a moment, we are the heretics: we are saying, in spite of clear biblical evidence, that God separated Himself in some clearly definable way from Jesus on the cross. We can’t say that in Jesus’ case God loved the sinner and hated the sin. Paul states emphatically that Jesus actually became sin (2 Corinthians 5:21); sin wasn’t something Jesus carried, it was something he was. So if God turned from sin, He turned from the person Jesus. The implications of that are astounding. We are saying that the Trinity, one of the foundational doctrines of Christianity, is unimportant. We say that because it ceased to exist at the moment of Jesus’ abandonment; yet somehow the Godhead as we understand Him was seemingly unaffected. In reality, if relationship with Jesus was severed, it means one of several things.
First, if we believe that Jesus was fully human and fully God as the creeds of Christendom have taught us, then somehow Jesus was God in a separate essence from the Father and Holy Spirit. That leaves two fully functional and separate Gods in the universe at the same time. If that is the case, then perhaps the Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses are right.
Second, if relationship between Jesus and the Father were truly separated, then Jesus ceased to be fully God at that point. That leads us back to inventing ways to explain a fractured, but not mortally wounded, Trinity.
Third, maybe we just don’t understand the kind of relationship that God the Father enjoys with Jesus. There is some way, we suggest, that God could turn from Jesus (because sin separates us from God) while at the same time He didn’t.
The problems with this response are twofold. First, this argument, based on the legal modernist theology, has to leave that worldview and take a trip into a more metaphysical, mystical posture for this to make sense. One cannot stay true to the modernist foundation and honestly reach this conclusion. Second, this kind of talk can only make sense if words are released from their meanings. We can’t stay true to the modernist worldview and employ postmodern uses of language and stay consistent.
The bottom line is this: if relationship between Jesus and the Father were severed for even a second, then for that second God was not God and the Bible is full of lies as to His longevity, omnipotence and character. If we believe in the forensic hatred of sin like we say we do, then perhaps our heresy is deeper and more insidious than the emerging church.
What to do?
It has been ultimately freeing to begin seeing God as the relentless lover of His creation, who would stop at nothing—no cost or risk too high—to enjoy undiminished relationship with this world and all its inhabitants. It is freeing to look at that tired modernist theological civil war between predestination and free will and wonder if both sides have seriously missed the point. What if, in eternity past, the Trinity decided to go ahead with creation knowing full well what the introduction of free will would bring? And in the midst of that decision, the Trinity decided that to get what they ultimately wanted—humans freely engaging in relationship with God—it was worth the personal cost of redemption? In that regard, Jesus was “predestined” for the cross, “the lamb slain from the foundation of the world.” My passionate, loving Father set loose the hounds of heaven to pursue me even before I was lost!
It is freeing and inspiring to read Jesus’ take on the dancing, joyful Father in Luke 15. Whether it’s an illustration of money, livestock or kids, the same relentless Finder of Lost Things has heaven poised for the next party.
I’m not smart enough to figure out what happens to the billions of people who haven’t heard the story of Jesus. I still think that it isn’t just God’s problem; if I am in relationship with Him, it’s my problem, too. But this I know: the story of God I am seeing re-written in my life is about the magnetic draw of the One who dances for joy over finding His lost ones. You can have your systematic theologies and dark courtroom dramas. I’m going this other direction.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Case Against Clergy
Time For A New View
The modern, Western Church defines itself with a theological foundation in the disciple-making command of Jesus in the Great Commission, and with a philosophical dynamic from the Protestant Reformation that insists on the priesthood of the believer. In its current form, however, the institutional Western Church actually stands in the way of both true discipleship and maximum world impact from its members.
The worldview of Christendom has become the Western Church’s largest export and its greatest hindrance. Because of the weight of our cultural and historical baggage and the depth of our traditional church assumptions, radical alternatives to traditional church forms are needed to restore the power to Western Christianity.
A Gift From A Guy Who Wore Metal Pants
“Christendom” refers to a relationship between the Church and the State that was inaugurated during the rule of the Roman emperor Constantine. His reign witnessed the exponential growth of a marginalized, persecuted Christianity. The Church was organic, decentralized, and powerful.
Constantine realized that nearly half of his entire empire was now professing allegiance to Christ. His legendary vision of a cross during battle gets center stage in our view of Church history. This becomes the mythical tipping point when we assume Christianity burst forth onto the world stage. One thing is definitely true: this was the beginning of Western culture and the Church was in the center of the culture. Being in the center isn't always a good thing.
What we often fail to realize is that Constantine probably made his decision to legitimize Christianity for numerous reasons, not the least of which was a shrewd political move. The emperor did what all the Roman leaders before him did. By bringing a conquered enemy’s gods into the Roman pantheon, and granting legitimate cultural status to both their priesthood and the locations where their religious faithful gathered to worship, those suddenly “set free” religiously lost their distinctiveness and the will to rebel. They were assimilated into the Roman Empire. Rome’s one great stipulation was that those new citizens revere Caesar—and by extension, the host culture—as divine. Most saw that as an inconsequential price for the freedoms and privileges they could gain.
So it was with the Christian Church. What was a dynamic movement that won converts by the sheer force of changed lives modeled in the toughest of circumstances rapidly became a legitimized religion whose centralized priesthood and distinctive, sacred buildings emerged as its defining cultural characteristics.
Scroll ahead to Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation in the fifteenth century. Luther surveyed the religious landscape and proposed reformative measures to his Catholic Church. It was an unbalanced institution heavily invested in politics and real estate. Luther saw an institution populated by a class of professional priests, schooled in the mystical art of understanding the Scriptures, supported by those grateful enough to receive spiritual guidance. It was the priesthood’s main occupation to interpret the Scriptures for their parishioners. In this system there was no room for everyday followers of Jesus to fully exercise their own priesthood as the Bible commands. People accepted the status quo; they knew no different and probably assumed that that was the way things were supposed to be in the Kingdom of God.
Shaped By History and Environment
Our late-twentieth-century Church worldview is both heavily influenced by our history and mostly hidden from view. We all operate on certain assumptions—those dynamics we implicitly and unconsciously understand as the way things ought to be. Because they are on this deep level, most of our assumptions go unchallenged.
Many of our guiding assumptions are deeply rooted in Christendom:
• We expect the Church to be in the center of culture, with a valued and respected voice. When this is no longer the case, we assume that it is the culture’s fault, not the Church’s.
• Our default is to equate the concept of Church with a place, not as a people. We are building-centric in our approach to ministry. This is one of the major contributing factors to our spiritual schizophrenia—the “sacred” and “secular” approach to life—where I can live separate existences depending on whether I am at work or at home or whom I am with.
• We demand dynamic performances from professionals, whom we grade and reward with our financial contributions and our continuing attendance at their performances. The focus of our Christian life is Sunday mornings; we “get through” the rest of the week to return to church.
• There is a vast difference between “clergy” and “laity” regarding the expectations of one’s life-investment. We expect much from professionals and little from ourselves. We have been conditioned to remain passive attendees.
• Laypeople’s chief contributions to the movement of the Kingdom of God are generally twofold: sources of income and bridges for church growth. Members are encouraged toward financial giving to the local church and to professional missionaries around the globe, and to invite their “unchurched” contacts to Sunday morning gatherings so that professional performances can change their minds. How much of the typical church’s income feeds overhead—salaries and mortgages?
The list above might seem cynical and reactionary. Its purpose is not to discount every dynamic of the modern Church as worldly and worthless. God has used churches and church people in amazing ways—and He will continue to do so. The purpose of this discussion is to allow the interested thinker some perspective to consider what cultural and historical foundations unconsciously drive our contemporary understanding of ministry and the Church’s interface with its world.
This is precisely why it has been so difficult historically in American evangelicalism to create vital, sustainable discipleship programs. There is no real need, since we implicitly know that all impactful ministries happen through professionals in sacred buildings on Sunday mornings. Our programmatic, building-centered approach actually militates against the focus, time and energy it takes to be missional and incarnational; without this the average member will not sense the dire need to be a disciple.
Finally, in our professionally-driven Christian sub-culture, just whom exactly is the disciple supposed to follow? Even in our relaxed, first-name-basis contemporary churches, there remains a huge and nearly unbridgeable psychological gap between clergy and laity. I simply can’t emulate a professional’s lifestyle; he does things and has powers and privileges I don’t, like getting seminary degrees, marryin’ and buryin’, baptizing and serving Communion.
So What?
The discussion above is also an attempt to demonstrate to missionally-minded leaders that there are serious and potentially stifling assumptions that North American Christians bring into the arena whenever we employ familiar forms of ministry. This is precisely why new forms are needed. It is not that new forms are intrinsically better or that traditional forms are evil. It is all about creating an atmosphere where community, impact, power and new imagination have the greatest chance of taking root.
Would a chapter of Overeaters Anonymous have an easier or a more difficult time reaching their objectives of they were to hold their meetings at a McDonalds or a Dairy Queen? When we are guided by clear objectives, sometimes an otherwise welcome venue becomes toxic.
Can an existing church turn the corner and become a dynamic, missional vehicle? Yes, or course. There will undoubtedly be more dynamic expressions of the Kingdom in many institutional/traditional churches (see how easy it is to mis-use that word?) than there ever will be through my own feeble efforts to pioneer a new/ancient movement. As one who has been part of the institutional Church as both a pastor and an overseas missionary, I have to wonder why we would spend our lives performing CPR when we could be out delivering babies.
What, then, is the best discipleship vehicle? It certainly isn’t through a paid professional, for all the reasons stated above. But take those same individuals, with theological acumen and leadership gifts, and place them in real-life situations. Intentionally under-employed former professionals working in local businesses, living in the same neighborhoods as the people they want to reach, acting as templates of hospitality, generosity and intentional relationality, wield great influence and inspire hope in others.
Spiritual gifts should be exercised. That includes those gifts of leadership within the Church. As gifted people learn to adopt a new set of assumptions, including one that restores the word “Church” to refer to God’s people rather than a building on a certain street corner, we will see a renaissance in Kingdom power across our communities. These new forms of Christian community will flourish as former professionals strip away old patterns and constantly challenge their co-laborers to disconnect from old paradigms of who does ministry in the Church and how it gets done.
So what about those verses in the New Testament about “don’t muzzle the ox” (like in 1 Timothy 5:18)? Is there a place for vocational clergy? Let’s address this with a couple clarifying comments. First, we are in the process of re-imagining the concept of Church. Now we see that when Paul addresses “the church in Corinth,” or Ephesus, or Rome, he probably is using that phrase to include every follower of Jesus in that geographical region. They didn’t all meet together on Sundays with a pastor. They were more likely a loose collection of house churches—tight-knit families of Jesus-lovers who needed the challenge of seeing a broader horizon. What they needed were regional overseers who could provide guidance and accountability in a very hostile environment. We have a continuing need for apostolic thinkers and prophetic teachers who can inspire and challenge God’s people. They just have to be far enough removed from us that we won’t dip back into the default assumption that they are the “ministers” and we are the passive audience. Even these verses, so beloved by those who make their living from others’ generosity, must be passed through the grid that challenges our default cultural assumptions.
There is a double irony in this new paradigm of Church in the West. The first is that this really isn’t new or novel; both the ancient Church in the first three centuries after the resurrection, and the modern Church in China, are shining examples of stunning health and growth through organic community in the absence of a professional priesthood. The second irony is that the current institutional Western clergy-led Church just might be led out of its rapid retreat into irrelevancy by…former clergy.
The missional/incarnational movement is more than a splinter faction of disgruntled spiritual anarchists. It is a fresh expression of ministry that has the potential to usher millions of people disinterested in “church” into the life of The Church. It’s worth every risk.
The modern, Western Church defines itself with a theological foundation in the disciple-making command of Jesus in the Great Commission, and with a philosophical dynamic from the Protestant Reformation that insists on the priesthood of the believer. In its current form, however, the institutional Western Church actually stands in the way of both true discipleship and maximum world impact from its members.
The worldview of Christendom has become the Western Church’s largest export and its greatest hindrance. Because of the weight of our cultural and historical baggage and the depth of our traditional church assumptions, radical alternatives to traditional church forms are needed to restore the power to Western Christianity.
A Gift From A Guy Who Wore Metal Pants
“Christendom” refers to a relationship between the Church and the State that was inaugurated during the rule of the Roman emperor Constantine. His reign witnessed the exponential growth of a marginalized, persecuted Christianity. The Church was organic, decentralized, and powerful.
Constantine realized that nearly half of his entire empire was now professing allegiance to Christ. His legendary vision of a cross during battle gets center stage in our view of Church history. This becomes the mythical tipping point when we assume Christianity burst forth onto the world stage. One thing is definitely true: this was the beginning of Western culture and the Church was in the center of the culture. Being in the center isn't always a good thing.
What we often fail to realize is that Constantine probably made his decision to legitimize Christianity for numerous reasons, not the least of which was a shrewd political move. The emperor did what all the Roman leaders before him did. By bringing a conquered enemy’s gods into the Roman pantheon, and granting legitimate cultural status to both their priesthood and the locations where their religious faithful gathered to worship, those suddenly “set free” religiously lost their distinctiveness and the will to rebel. They were assimilated into the Roman Empire. Rome’s one great stipulation was that those new citizens revere Caesar—and by extension, the host culture—as divine. Most saw that as an inconsequential price for the freedoms and privileges they could gain.
So it was with the Christian Church. What was a dynamic movement that won converts by the sheer force of changed lives modeled in the toughest of circumstances rapidly became a legitimized religion whose centralized priesthood and distinctive, sacred buildings emerged as its defining cultural characteristics.
Scroll ahead to Martin Luther and the Protestant Reformation in the fifteenth century. Luther surveyed the religious landscape and proposed reformative measures to his Catholic Church. It was an unbalanced institution heavily invested in politics and real estate. Luther saw an institution populated by a class of professional priests, schooled in the mystical art of understanding the Scriptures, supported by those grateful enough to receive spiritual guidance. It was the priesthood’s main occupation to interpret the Scriptures for their parishioners. In this system there was no room for everyday followers of Jesus to fully exercise their own priesthood as the Bible commands. People accepted the status quo; they knew no different and probably assumed that that was the way things were supposed to be in the Kingdom of God.
Shaped By History and Environment
Our late-twentieth-century Church worldview is both heavily influenced by our history and mostly hidden from view. We all operate on certain assumptions—those dynamics we implicitly and unconsciously understand as the way things ought to be. Because they are on this deep level, most of our assumptions go unchallenged.
Many of our guiding assumptions are deeply rooted in Christendom:
• We expect the Church to be in the center of culture, with a valued and respected voice. When this is no longer the case, we assume that it is the culture’s fault, not the Church’s.
• Our default is to equate the concept of Church with a place, not as a people. We are building-centric in our approach to ministry. This is one of the major contributing factors to our spiritual schizophrenia—the “sacred” and “secular” approach to life—where I can live separate existences depending on whether I am at work or at home or whom I am with.
• We demand dynamic performances from professionals, whom we grade and reward with our financial contributions and our continuing attendance at their performances. The focus of our Christian life is Sunday mornings; we “get through” the rest of the week to return to church.
• There is a vast difference between “clergy” and “laity” regarding the expectations of one’s life-investment. We expect much from professionals and little from ourselves. We have been conditioned to remain passive attendees.
• Laypeople’s chief contributions to the movement of the Kingdom of God are generally twofold: sources of income and bridges for church growth. Members are encouraged toward financial giving to the local church and to professional missionaries around the globe, and to invite their “unchurched” contacts to Sunday morning gatherings so that professional performances can change their minds. How much of the typical church’s income feeds overhead—salaries and mortgages?
The list above might seem cynical and reactionary. Its purpose is not to discount every dynamic of the modern Church as worldly and worthless. God has used churches and church people in amazing ways—and He will continue to do so. The purpose of this discussion is to allow the interested thinker some perspective to consider what cultural and historical foundations unconsciously drive our contemporary understanding of ministry and the Church’s interface with its world.
This is precisely why it has been so difficult historically in American evangelicalism to create vital, sustainable discipleship programs. There is no real need, since we implicitly know that all impactful ministries happen through professionals in sacred buildings on Sunday mornings. Our programmatic, building-centered approach actually militates against the focus, time and energy it takes to be missional and incarnational; without this the average member will not sense the dire need to be a disciple.
Finally, in our professionally-driven Christian sub-culture, just whom exactly is the disciple supposed to follow? Even in our relaxed, first-name-basis contemporary churches, there remains a huge and nearly unbridgeable psychological gap between clergy and laity. I simply can’t emulate a professional’s lifestyle; he does things and has powers and privileges I don’t, like getting seminary degrees, marryin’ and buryin’, baptizing and serving Communion.
So What?
The discussion above is also an attempt to demonstrate to missionally-minded leaders that there are serious and potentially stifling assumptions that North American Christians bring into the arena whenever we employ familiar forms of ministry. This is precisely why new forms are needed. It is not that new forms are intrinsically better or that traditional forms are evil. It is all about creating an atmosphere where community, impact, power and new imagination have the greatest chance of taking root.
Would a chapter of Overeaters Anonymous have an easier or a more difficult time reaching their objectives of they were to hold their meetings at a McDonalds or a Dairy Queen? When we are guided by clear objectives, sometimes an otherwise welcome venue becomes toxic.
Can an existing church turn the corner and become a dynamic, missional vehicle? Yes, or course. There will undoubtedly be more dynamic expressions of the Kingdom in many institutional/traditional churches (see how easy it is to mis-use that word?) than there ever will be through my own feeble efforts to pioneer a new/ancient movement. As one who has been part of the institutional Church as both a pastor and an overseas missionary, I have to wonder why we would spend our lives performing CPR when we could be out delivering babies.
What, then, is the best discipleship vehicle? It certainly isn’t through a paid professional, for all the reasons stated above. But take those same individuals, with theological acumen and leadership gifts, and place them in real-life situations. Intentionally under-employed former professionals working in local businesses, living in the same neighborhoods as the people they want to reach, acting as templates of hospitality, generosity and intentional relationality, wield great influence and inspire hope in others.
Spiritual gifts should be exercised. That includes those gifts of leadership within the Church. As gifted people learn to adopt a new set of assumptions, including one that restores the word “Church” to refer to God’s people rather than a building on a certain street corner, we will see a renaissance in Kingdom power across our communities. These new forms of Christian community will flourish as former professionals strip away old patterns and constantly challenge their co-laborers to disconnect from old paradigms of who does ministry in the Church and how it gets done.
So what about those verses in the New Testament about “don’t muzzle the ox” (like in 1 Timothy 5:18)? Is there a place for vocational clergy? Let’s address this with a couple clarifying comments. First, we are in the process of re-imagining the concept of Church. Now we see that when Paul addresses “the church in Corinth,” or Ephesus, or Rome, he probably is using that phrase to include every follower of Jesus in that geographical region. They didn’t all meet together on Sundays with a pastor. They were more likely a loose collection of house churches—tight-knit families of Jesus-lovers who needed the challenge of seeing a broader horizon. What they needed were regional overseers who could provide guidance and accountability in a very hostile environment. We have a continuing need for apostolic thinkers and prophetic teachers who can inspire and challenge God’s people. They just have to be far enough removed from us that we won’t dip back into the default assumption that they are the “ministers” and we are the passive audience. Even these verses, so beloved by those who make their living from others’ generosity, must be passed through the grid that challenges our default cultural assumptions.
There is a double irony in this new paradigm of Church in the West. The first is that this really isn’t new or novel; both the ancient Church in the first three centuries after the resurrection, and the modern Church in China, are shining examples of stunning health and growth through organic community in the absence of a professional priesthood. The second irony is that the current institutional Western clergy-led Church just might be led out of its rapid retreat into irrelevancy by…former clergy.
The missional/incarnational movement is more than a splinter faction of disgruntled spiritual anarchists. It is a fresh expression of ministry that has the potential to usher millions of people disinterested in “church” into the life of The Church. It’s worth every risk.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
All the Power You Need
Why doesn’t the Church—especially in the Western world—see more activity of the Holy Spirit?
One of the things I have discovered in my 20-year trek toward understanding the Spirit and His gifting hit me a couple years ago, and it gave me a new perspective on the issue. One problem we have is that we tend to see spiritual gifts as things. They are possessions I accumulate; for Western Christians, this is the most deadly way of understanding them. Our US worldview, especially, is that the accumulation of things is our goal and lifestyle--responsible use is not. For American Christians to hear about spiritual gifts as things God gives us rather than a challenge to a lifestyle of a completely different order, it often psychologically puts them in the "Optional" or "For Use When Needed" bin in our cluttered minds. You know—the place where great concepts wither and die.
This piecemeal approach is both informed and augmented by our American way of reading 1 Corinthians. We see it as Paul, the problem solver, ticking off his list of things to discuss with the troubled church in Corinth. See a problem, fix a problem. We can relate to that. It fits our superficial, pragmatic worldview.
Several years ago I was doing some Greek work on that book and came upon what I think is the real theme of 1 Corinthians, and it completely re-oriented my view of the book in general and of spiritual gifts in particular. It all revolves around the Greek word "pneumatikos" in some key areas in this book. It unlocks Paul's grand purpose for writing the book, and helps us understand that lifestyle of a completely different order.
First, a definition. "Pneumatikos" almost cannot be translated into English. The best we can do is to say that it speaks of "spiritual stuff," or the realm of reality where spiritual stuff is most active and alive. As you know, context very often must supply the local meaning. However, just looking at the words immediately surrounding a word often is not enough. This word in particular is used in key places in the book, so we are (or should be) forced to harmonize all the uses into a cohesive theme. Only then will we really "get it."
We can all agree that the church in Corinth had a number of presenting issues that reeked of spiritual immaturity. We can also agree that in Paul's other letters he never applied corrective action or teaching without first applying a broader theme of redemption and maturity. He wasn't a help desk guy simply intent on getting things re-booted so he could go on to the next customer.
Paul addresses the immaturity issue in chapter 1 presented to him by the visitors from Corinth. The goal he presents to Corinth is finishing well, which is done through the outworking of the Kingdom of God (1:7-8). He sets up the discussion for the rest of the book, and the grand underlying theme of the book in 1:18 - 3:23. That theme is, "this is what true spirituality/maturity looks like. Come live in it." In the middle chapters he holds up the mirror and lets them see the spiritual anarchy that prevents them from "getting it." That's what the discussions about divisions and competition, an anti-authority spirit, sexual leniency, legal disputes, broken and distracted marriages, "strong" versus "weak," men and women in competition, and nominal religion are about. The middle chapters are illustrations.
Back to the theme. In explicit teaching about spiritual maturity beginning in 2:6, Paul says that real understanding about the way things truly are, and the power to live that way, comes from "...words taught by the Spirit, expressing spiritual truths (pneumatikos) in spiritual words (pneumatikos)" (2:13). The concept is so important that Paul uses the word twice.
Only those who live in this realm of pneumatikos, and who are defined by it, can "get it" when God speaks (2:15 -- Literal translation: "...but the spiritual one [pneumatikos] examines all...). Suddenly the word is personified, indicating one whose life is intertwined with and defined by this realm. Paul goes on to say that he could not talk to the Corinthians as "pneumatikos" but had to do it on the flesh level (3:1). Hence, the way he writes the book. Does the way I interpret 1 Corinthians bring a little interpretation into what realm dictates my understanding? Hmmm...
Paul goes on in chapter 9 to remind the readers that his ministry was all about sowing the seeds of the Kingdom and spiritual maturity [pneumatikos]--that was his goal (9:11). He reminds the readers that they really are without excuse, because this was God's goal all along. God even provided examples through Israel's wanderings (10:1-6). They "...ate the same spiritual food [pneumatikos], and all drank the same spiritual drink [pneumatikos], for they were drinking from a spiritual rock [pneumatikos] that accompanied them, and that rock was Christ." Pneumatikos, it seems to me, is the same stuff that is supposed to flow when we are attached to the Vine. It is the lifeblood of the Kingdom, not a component we call "spiritual gifts" that most believers learn to get along without very nicely.
So we get done with the illustrations and Paul returns to his theme in 12:1. "Now concerning spiritual gifts [pneumatikos], I do not want you to be ignorant." Without understanding the flow of Paul's thinking, our next best guess is twofold: First, spiritual gifts were another of the many problems Paul had to dress down the immature Corinthians about (which leads many to the conclusion that it is good to avoid them entirely for fear of excess); Secondly, and equally wrong, that this is a list of things God gives that is almost entirely unconnected from any of the previous teaching.
What Paul is really saying is, "OK, now that I have your attention, let's talk about what living in the realm of mature spirituality looks like." If we can synthesize the earlier teachings and come to this point, then and only then does chapter 13 really fall into place. This is a discussion about what the Spirit-filled lifestyle looks like, and the greatest manifestation of the Spirit of God is love (John 13:34-35; 1 John 4:16). He can then say, "Pursue the love and the spiritual [pneumatikos]... [literal Greek translation]" (14:1).
Incidentally, by using the definite article “the” before the word “love” in 14:1, Paul is speaking of a specific love, e.g. the spiritual gift that is the primary identifier of the “pneumatikos” kind of person. This could lead to an entire volume of discussion in itself, which we won’t do now. But it does beg one important question that is directly related to the “pneumatikos” lifestyle: what does it say about the American Church when most people outside of it would say that we are identified primarily by what (or whom) we are against, rather than the empowered, magnetic essence of God living among and through us?
Paul then finishes the teaching portion of his book by saying, "If anybody thinks he is a prophet or spiritually gifted [pneumatikos--one who walks and lives in the realm of the Kingdom], let him acknowledge that what I am writing to you is the Lord's command..." (14:37).
In closing, Paul encourages the Corinthians to live under the shadow of the resurrection (chapter 15). He continues his theme and weaves it into this encouragement. Whenever the English translations say in 44-46 that there is a "spiritual" whatever, that word is pneumatikos. Paul's point is this: Pneumatikos is what we were destined for. Not only is it what we will experience, it is what we can experience. If that is the case, then learn to recognize it and live in it now. Without this kind of understanding we will continue to view spiritual giftings programmatically, rather than wholistically. Without this kind of understanding the Church at large will never move toward the organic and away from the institutional.
One of the things I have discovered in my 20-year trek toward understanding the Spirit and His gifting hit me a couple years ago, and it gave me a new perspective on the issue. One problem we have is that we tend to see spiritual gifts as things. They are possessions I accumulate; for Western Christians, this is the most deadly way of understanding them. Our US worldview, especially, is that the accumulation of things is our goal and lifestyle--responsible use is not. For American Christians to hear about spiritual gifts as things God gives us rather than a challenge to a lifestyle of a completely different order, it often psychologically puts them in the "Optional" or "For Use When Needed" bin in our cluttered minds. You know—the place where great concepts wither and die.
This piecemeal approach is both informed and augmented by our American way of reading 1 Corinthians. We see it as Paul, the problem solver, ticking off his list of things to discuss with the troubled church in Corinth. See a problem, fix a problem. We can relate to that. It fits our superficial, pragmatic worldview.
Several years ago I was doing some Greek work on that book and came upon what I think is the real theme of 1 Corinthians, and it completely re-oriented my view of the book in general and of spiritual gifts in particular. It all revolves around the Greek word "pneumatikos" in some key areas in this book. It unlocks Paul's grand purpose for writing the book, and helps us understand that lifestyle of a completely different order.
First, a definition. "Pneumatikos" almost cannot be translated into English. The best we can do is to say that it speaks of "spiritual stuff," or the realm of reality where spiritual stuff is most active and alive. As you know, context very often must supply the local meaning. However, just looking at the words immediately surrounding a word often is not enough. This word in particular is used in key places in the book, so we are (or should be) forced to harmonize all the uses into a cohesive theme. Only then will we really "get it."
We can all agree that the church in Corinth had a number of presenting issues that reeked of spiritual immaturity. We can also agree that in Paul's other letters he never applied corrective action or teaching without first applying a broader theme of redemption and maturity. He wasn't a help desk guy simply intent on getting things re-booted so he could go on to the next customer.
Paul addresses the immaturity issue in chapter 1 presented to him by the visitors from Corinth. The goal he presents to Corinth is finishing well, which is done through the outworking of the Kingdom of God (1:7-8). He sets up the discussion for the rest of the book, and the grand underlying theme of the book in 1:18 - 3:23. That theme is, "this is what true spirituality/maturity looks like. Come live in it." In the middle chapters he holds up the mirror and lets them see the spiritual anarchy that prevents them from "getting it." That's what the discussions about divisions and competition, an anti-authority spirit, sexual leniency, legal disputes, broken and distracted marriages, "strong" versus "weak," men and women in competition, and nominal religion are about. The middle chapters are illustrations.
Back to the theme. In explicit teaching about spiritual maturity beginning in 2:6, Paul says that real understanding about the way things truly are, and the power to live that way, comes from "...words taught by the Spirit, expressing spiritual truths (pneumatikos) in spiritual words (pneumatikos)" (2:13). The concept is so important that Paul uses the word twice.
Only those who live in this realm of pneumatikos, and who are defined by it, can "get it" when God speaks (2:15 -- Literal translation: "...but the spiritual one [pneumatikos] examines all...). Suddenly the word is personified, indicating one whose life is intertwined with and defined by this realm. Paul goes on to say that he could not talk to the Corinthians as "pneumatikos" but had to do it on the flesh level (3:1). Hence, the way he writes the book. Does the way I interpret 1 Corinthians bring a little interpretation into what realm dictates my understanding? Hmmm...
Paul goes on in chapter 9 to remind the readers that his ministry was all about sowing the seeds of the Kingdom and spiritual maturity [pneumatikos]--that was his goal (9:11). He reminds the readers that they really are without excuse, because this was God's goal all along. God even provided examples through Israel's wanderings (10:1-6). They "...ate the same spiritual food [pneumatikos], and all drank the same spiritual drink [pneumatikos], for they were drinking from a spiritual rock [pneumatikos] that accompanied them, and that rock was Christ." Pneumatikos, it seems to me, is the same stuff that is supposed to flow when we are attached to the Vine. It is the lifeblood of the Kingdom, not a component we call "spiritual gifts" that most believers learn to get along without very nicely.
So we get done with the illustrations and Paul returns to his theme in 12:1. "Now concerning spiritual gifts [pneumatikos], I do not want you to be ignorant." Without understanding the flow of Paul's thinking, our next best guess is twofold: First, spiritual gifts were another of the many problems Paul had to dress down the immature Corinthians about (which leads many to the conclusion that it is good to avoid them entirely for fear of excess); Secondly, and equally wrong, that this is a list of things God gives that is almost entirely unconnected from any of the previous teaching.
What Paul is really saying is, "OK, now that I have your attention, let's talk about what living in the realm of mature spirituality looks like." If we can synthesize the earlier teachings and come to this point, then and only then does chapter 13 really fall into place. This is a discussion about what the Spirit-filled lifestyle looks like, and the greatest manifestation of the Spirit of God is love (John 13:34-35; 1 John 4:16). He can then say, "Pursue the love and the spiritual [pneumatikos]... [literal Greek translation]" (14:1).
Incidentally, by using the definite article “the” before the word “love” in 14:1, Paul is speaking of a specific love, e.g. the spiritual gift that is the primary identifier of the “pneumatikos” kind of person. This could lead to an entire volume of discussion in itself, which we won’t do now. But it does beg one important question that is directly related to the “pneumatikos” lifestyle: what does it say about the American Church when most people outside of it would say that we are identified primarily by what (or whom) we are against, rather than the empowered, magnetic essence of God living among and through us?
Paul then finishes the teaching portion of his book by saying, "If anybody thinks he is a prophet or spiritually gifted [pneumatikos--one who walks and lives in the realm of the Kingdom], let him acknowledge that what I am writing to you is the Lord's command..." (14:37).
In closing, Paul encourages the Corinthians to live under the shadow of the resurrection (chapter 15). He continues his theme and weaves it into this encouragement. Whenever the English translations say in 44-46 that there is a "spiritual" whatever, that word is pneumatikos. Paul's point is this: Pneumatikos is what we were destined for. Not only is it what we will experience, it is what we can experience. If that is the case, then learn to recognize it and live in it now. Without this kind of understanding we will continue to view spiritual giftings programmatically, rather than wholistically. Without this kind of understanding the Church at large will never move toward the organic and away from the institutional.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Legacy versus Lethargy
Deciding what’s important is more than making a list. It can be the difference between legacy and lethargy.
Followers of Jesus have some decisions to make as the Church in North America begins its slide into the same chasm of irrelevancy that has haunted her European sister for the last century. Will we shake our fists at the boogeymen of the “culture wars” as our organizations sink from sight, or will we become an irresistible force uniquely able to thrive in this new global environment?
Yes, the stakes are that high.
And yes, the decision is ours; it does not rest in the hands of the Supreme Court, Barack Obama, Angelina Jolie or Joel Osteen. We are the ones who control the destiny of the Church and it is high time we made the right choices.
The single most important decision an individual follower of Jesus can make is to join God in His mission. This may sound like the spiritual warm fuzzies but it really is a destiny-maker. Here is what it looks like and why it is so different from our normal church experience.
Many evangelicals might say that the Great Commission is our greatest calling and priority. The way we have unpacked that since the nineteenth century, however, leaves the average Joe in an institutionalized kind of lethargy: the place of observer and financial supporter so the professionals can git ‘er done. Most of the average local church’s budget and focus rest squarely on Sunday morning services. Most of the “good things” that happen on most Sunday mornings are from services rendered by professionals (or at the least highly skilled volunteers). The Great Commission is also largely “done” by trained professionals in faraway places. They are the players; we are the crowd.
When we cry over the globe, most of us never expect to go to those places and live among the people for whom we weep. And most of us don’t see our immediate surroundings as a mission field demanding our immersion in it. That’s because the Great Commission has largely been professionalized, and therefore, depersonalized. We have become victims of our own success.
Lethargy can evaporate and legacy can begin by embracing a higher purpose. It is found in the ancient Latin words “mission dei,” which simply mean “the mission of God.” God has been on a single-minded mission for a very long time. His plan to win back His lost humanity proves that He would let no obstacle stand in His way. His love for people continues to drive Him. It is that love that can drive us.
Embracing the missio dei forever personalizes my approach to my corner of the world. I can’t help but to be involved. It means that I begin living as a person of influence, touching those around me and developing relationships with greater intentionality. It also means that my relationships are now seen as a direct conduit of God’s love and power to my unsaved friends, neighbors and co-workers. No longer am I a “mule,” trying to convince those same people to come to church so the professionals can take over.
Suddenly the average Joe is important. Influential. Significant. Huge.
We tend to think that only the powerful have influence. The truth is that everyone is a person of influence, and everyone uses his or her influence. Some are more overt and successful than others; most of us exert our influence unconsciously.
Deciding to be a person of conscious influence is not an ego trip. It is just the opposite: when we jump into the swift current of the missio dei we realize how humbling it is and how inadequate we are. There is another benefit to intentional influence: it can lead us away from two legacy-killing dilemmas.
First, because our influence-peddling is small potatoes compared to some, we tend to unconsciously grant ourselves immunity from the responsibility placed on those in positions of influence (as if we were not in the same position). The responsibility is still there; now it becomes a positive motivating factor.
We must recognize the dangers of the second dilemma that undisciplined influence creates. Living in the land of non-intentional priorities tends to insulate us from analyzing and critiquing the end to which we unconsciously pull others. That end, like it or not, is the pragmatic center of our universe. That toward which I draw others is the thing I worship as my god.
Look—as long as we’re here our god might as well be God. Let’s get intentional.
Legacy and lethargy are opposing forces we all face. By choosing to engage God’s relentless love for the people around me I can become a person of eternal influence and give others a glimpse of their own destiny as followers of Jesus. Part of letting the mission dei capture us is the sorting out, clarifying and galvanizing power of a focused influence whose magnetic north is Jesus himself. Nothing else is really worth pointing at.
Followers of Jesus have some decisions to make as the Church in North America begins its slide into the same chasm of irrelevancy that has haunted her European sister for the last century. Will we shake our fists at the boogeymen of the “culture wars” as our organizations sink from sight, or will we become an irresistible force uniquely able to thrive in this new global environment?
Yes, the stakes are that high.
And yes, the decision is ours; it does not rest in the hands of the Supreme Court, Barack Obama, Angelina Jolie or Joel Osteen. We are the ones who control the destiny of the Church and it is high time we made the right choices.
The single most important decision an individual follower of Jesus can make is to join God in His mission. This may sound like the spiritual warm fuzzies but it really is a destiny-maker. Here is what it looks like and why it is so different from our normal church experience.
Many evangelicals might say that the Great Commission is our greatest calling and priority. The way we have unpacked that since the nineteenth century, however, leaves the average Joe in an institutionalized kind of lethargy: the place of observer and financial supporter so the professionals can git ‘er done. Most of the average local church’s budget and focus rest squarely on Sunday morning services. Most of the “good things” that happen on most Sunday mornings are from services rendered by professionals (or at the least highly skilled volunteers). The Great Commission is also largely “done” by trained professionals in faraway places. They are the players; we are the crowd.
When we cry over the globe, most of us never expect to go to those places and live among the people for whom we weep. And most of us don’t see our immediate surroundings as a mission field demanding our immersion in it. That’s because the Great Commission has largely been professionalized, and therefore, depersonalized. We have become victims of our own success.
Lethargy can evaporate and legacy can begin by embracing a higher purpose. It is found in the ancient Latin words “mission dei,” which simply mean “the mission of God.” God has been on a single-minded mission for a very long time. His plan to win back His lost humanity proves that He would let no obstacle stand in His way. His love for people continues to drive Him. It is that love that can drive us.
Embracing the missio dei forever personalizes my approach to my corner of the world. I can’t help but to be involved. It means that I begin living as a person of influence, touching those around me and developing relationships with greater intentionality. It also means that my relationships are now seen as a direct conduit of God’s love and power to my unsaved friends, neighbors and co-workers. No longer am I a “mule,” trying to convince those same people to come to church so the professionals can take over.
Suddenly the average Joe is important. Influential. Significant. Huge.
We tend to think that only the powerful have influence. The truth is that everyone is a person of influence, and everyone uses his or her influence. Some are more overt and successful than others; most of us exert our influence unconsciously.
Deciding to be a person of conscious influence is not an ego trip. It is just the opposite: when we jump into the swift current of the missio dei we realize how humbling it is and how inadequate we are. There is another benefit to intentional influence: it can lead us away from two legacy-killing dilemmas.
First, because our influence-peddling is small potatoes compared to some, we tend to unconsciously grant ourselves immunity from the responsibility placed on those in positions of influence (as if we were not in the same position). The responsibility is still there; now it becomes a positive motivating factor.
We must recognize the dangers of the second dilemma that undisciplined influence creates. Living in the land of non-intentional priorities tends to insulate us from analyzing and critiquing the end to which we unconsciously pull others. That end, like it or not, is the pragmatic center of our universe. That toward which I draw others is the thing I worship as my god.
Look—as long as we’re here our god might as well be God. Let’s get intentional.
Legacy and lethargy are opposing forces we all face. By choosing to engage God’s relentless love for the people around me I can become a person of eternal influence and give others a glimpse of their own destiny as followers of Jesus. Part of letting the mission dei capture us is the sorting out, clarifying and galvanizing power of a focused influence whose magnetic north is Jesus himself. Nothing else is really worth pointing at.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Re-Visioning "Church"
We began the missional journey knowing that the path we are walking is, for us, largely an uncharted adventure. We committed to discovering and defining the markers along the way that can guide those who follow. Some of those markers were found at the edge of the forest; they were obvious and easy. Some have taken us by surprise. As we round the corner we discover abrupt changes in the landscape: what was expected just isn’t there. We are discovering at some of those turns that our “church common sense,” that body of information and expectations we carry around with us, accumulated through years of church activity, is no longer adequate to help us navigate. In fact, there are times when “proceeding as normal” is the worst thing we can do.
At those times it is helpful to pitch our tent and evaluate our decision-making process before considering our next turn. The following discussion is one of those moments.
We are well into our second year as a missional team in a defined target area in the urban center of Fort Wayne, Indiana. We currently have nine adults who are committed to the team. Every one of us comes from a church background and most have deep ties to three local churches from two denominations.
Our major goals with church people are twofold. First, we must embrace a missional/incarnational theology. That includes the following essential elements:
1. Understanding the concept of the missio dei—that God has always been on a mission to seek, save and redeem. The mission of God dominated the life and teaching of Jesus; and the missio dei calls every follower of Christ that very lifestyle.
2. The essence of missional theology is relationships. Our triune God, the ultimate relational being, expects us to express our theology and communicate His love relationally. Our Western worldview is more propositional, rather than relational, in nature. The missional/incarnational model moves people to see life and ministry through another lens.
3. Our cultural/evangelical application of church ministry has traditionally been centripetal in nature: that is, we have buildings/properties where ministry happens, and church members and seekers are expected to move toward that central point. In this regard we use the term attractional to help define this kind of ministry model. The vast majority of church people are so familiar with this as the only model we know that we rarely stop to ask if there might be other, equally legitimate models.
4. The Scriptures call believers to a set of relationships that are centrifugal in nature: we are sent out to the needy rather than expecting the needy to come to us. Since Jesus calls His followers salt and light, then we strive to invest our lives and resources where those qualities make the most impact.
5. The missio dei calls us to redefine our local context. Where I work, play and live is a mission field and this is where my ministry must begin.
The second major goal is related to the first, but more clearly defines how I relate to my world as a person of mission. This is one of those unexpected turns along the way. We never anticipated how challenging the adoption of these values is, and how the whole missional process hangs on moving from what we have known to what our times demand.
In essence, the second goal is the gateway through which people from church backgrounds can find permission and freedom to live in a manner that brings power to the concepts embedded in the first goal. The first goal is essential in orienting our thinking. The second goal moves those concepts into everyday experience.
Our second goal is currently coming into focus. As it becomes clarified, we are discovering the many familiar layers of expectation and assumptions that must be addressed if missional teams are to truly flourish. Here it is in a nutshell: missional people must decide how to redefine “Church.” The implications for this definition are staggering. We shall make some brief comments for the benefit of individuals stepping out into mission and for church leaders contemplating how to empower them.
Inside or Outside
We have a missional teammate sharing our house. She has a cat. The cat goes mostly unnoticed, but there are times that it becomes maddening. One of those times is when she yowls at the door to go outside. I will open the door to let the cat out and then the drama begins. The cat rarely shoots out the door as expected—most often she will hesitate; looking out at freedom, then looking at me, the impatient doorkeeper. Should I try to coax the cat out, or move in her direction, she skitters away. I shut the door in disgust and the cat stays inside.
How many times have we stood at the door, hesitating to go outside? This doesn’t automatically imply that we all operate out of fear, and therefore we choose disobedience over possible hardship. Very often we are like that cat: the doorkeeper seemingly bidding us to go outside doesn’t look all that believable.
Our centripetal church model has subtly convinced us that attendance at meetings, and involvement in building-based activities, are some of the significant indicators of spiritual maturity. From which pool of candidates do we choose when considering members for church leadership? One common denominator is those persons’ level of involvement and attendance at centripetal functions.
Meanwhile, preachers and teachers expound the virtues of the Great Commission and offer tips on evangelism. All the while we are locked in the middle of two equal and opposite magnetic pulls: be more involved in the church ministry and its programs; go out and reach your neighbors. We find friendship and support from fellow believers in our church culture; the more we are involved the more isolated we are from impacting our unsaved friends and neighbors (unless they accept our offer to attend church, which all the major cultural trends definitively state that this is rapidly losing effect in our world). Yet we hear the message of God’s heart. We stand at the door, frozen in indecision.
This indecision has implications for individuals and church leaders. For the individual, accepting the concepts surrounding missio dei but not significantly acting upon them leave missional teams in frustration and futility. Individuals contemplating their participation on a missional team must evaluate their level of involvement in the traditional church organization. In a real sense, for missional teams to flourish, there has to be a break for the door. “Insiders” must choose to become “outsiders.”
People moving into the missional lifestyle who remain “insiders” will continue to see their local church as their source of fellowship and fulfillment when it comes to feeding and worship. They will also tend to default to paid professionals to do the heavy lifting in ministry. Consider the possibility that the two most common defining activities of the traditional church are preaching/teaching and worship on Sunday mornings. If this is true, then the average believer must default to a passive experience in a professionally-led environment. What this leaves for a missional team are individuals who attend meetings, but who do not dive headlong into relationships with fellow team members beyond what church-based small groups traditionally provide. They are too busy; their loyalties are divided. And as long as their feeding and worship experience is provided for them, whatever happens in the team setting is icing on the spiritual cake.
As we all know, icing is optional.
Church leaders who truly desire to see their members blossom in a missional environment must evaluate whether teachings from the pulpit coupled with subtle pressure to “go to church” actually create a dissonance that leaves their followers camped in the valley of indecision. What can be done—what must be done—by local church leadership to free people to head out into the great unknown?
One radical (but we deem biblical) turning point is to promote the Great Commission in the individual’s sphere of influence as our destiny and defining activity. This kind of dynamic is truly what should define the Church. As long as corporate worship and the preaching/teaching of the Word are promoted (however subtly) as the central, defining activities of the Church, regular members will continue to treat the Great Commission casually.
What might happen in local neighborhoods if believers, empowered and encouraged by their fellowships, were able to invest themselves fully in a centrifugal lifestyle?
Feed or Fed
Our second theme follows closely on the previous point. One problem the Western Church faces in this era is that we have become victims of our own success. Teaching in local churches is enhanced (and often eclipsed) by supplemental purveyors of truth on TV, in print and through podcasts. All I have to do is open my ears and let the stream fill my brain.
Let’s go on record right now: listening to Bible teaching is not wrong, sinful or misguided. It is simply not enough. We will go on record as saying that receiving teaching was never God’s intention as our primary source of knowing Him and His Word. We must become self-feeding followers of Jesus who gather together out of fullness rather than emptiness.
Missional teams strive to promote the practice of self-feeding. This has three distinct advantages when one is attempting to establish a missional lifestyle: self-feeding untethers the believer, it enhances team dynamics, and it personalizes the priesthood.
Self-feeding as the primary source of one’s spiritual nutrition allows the follower of Jesus to begin the untethering process. Those who grew up standing in their boat tied to the dock sharing fishing stories with all the other boaters tied to their docks can gain confidence that the boats were really designed to push away from shore and head for open waters. Self-feeding starts the process of confidence-building for the great adventure outside the safe harbor.
Self-feeding enhances team dynamics by developing a model of gathering together where everyone has something to share, which is what builds the Church (1 Corinthians 14:26). This separates missional gatherings from our traditional home Bible study format and gives organic life more fertile soil in which to grow.
Self-feeding also personalizes the priesthood of the everyday follower of Jesus. Taking responsibility to feed oneself, coupled with an expectation that God may give that same person something to share when the group gathers, makes the individual much more likely to leave the bleachers and move down to the field.
What can local church leaders do to help encourage self-feeding and thereby give their missional folks a reasonable opportunity to thrive in the new atmosphere? Offering more Sunday School classes on how to study the Bible may actually perpetuate the dissonance and keep potential movers idling at the door. This is an issue that must be discussed and debated. The Baby Boom generation, of which I am part, cut our spiritual teeth on the church growth principles that for many made teaching the Word an end in itself. This has some significant implications for those in professional ministry whose gifting and calling have them staying within organized fellowships. This might mean discovering a new persona for those whose primary responsibility and identity has been behind the pulpit.
Parent or Guardian
The final theme in our quest to re-vision Church more explicitly guides the professional. How can an organization affect significant change if those guiding it remain the same? What this missional impulse needs from the inside-out are pastors and leaders who choose to lead their congregants as parents rather than guardians.
My mother-in-law once told me that her goal as a parent was to raise her kids so that, when they were 18, they were ready, willing and able to move out on their own. No responsible pastor would intentionally raise a generation of spiritually jobless 35-year-olds who still live with their parents. As we have already stated, our collective skill with worship and the Word may actually be encouraging many in our congregations to never strike out on their own because Mom and Dad continue to provide everything they need.
Moses speaks of this in Genesis 2 when he reminds newlyweds to leave their parents and cling to each other. Embedded in the notion of leaving are parents who “get it” and allow and encourage their children to act like adults. This works best when parents initiate a new order of relationship with their kids as friends and peers.
Perhaps the converse of that image is that of a guardian who hovers over the child, dictating (or strongly suggesting) what would be best.
Our best scenario would find church leaders and missional members meeting in a new middle ground. Each gives back to the larger group. Each sees the other with new eyes. Each does his or her part to make the missio dei a reality. Then all, including a previously unpenetrated surrounding community, benefit.
Our enemy would like nothing better than division and alienation amongst the followers of Jesus. Without a strong and clear emphasis on the missio dei, the traditional Church in North America will continue its slow but steady decline. And without the backing of church leaders, missionally-repurposed believers will never enjoy the impact they desire.
We need each other.
More importantly, our world needs the Church in action.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
