Last Saturday morning I led a breakout session on “Emerging Church” for the Kentucky Baptist Fellowship meeting here in my hometown of Owensboro. It was supposed to be a dialogue, but I figured some of the people wouldn’t know enough about Emerging Church to participate in a dialogue. So I began with introductions, asking each person to tell a little about their interest and/or involvement in Emerging Church. The exercise confirmed my suspicions. Several said they didn’t know much (or anything) about it. One person said, “I saw the phrase for the first time about 15 minutes ago when I was trying to decide which breakout to attend. Since I’d never even heard about it I figured I could learn something in here. So here I am.”

After the introductions I gave a brief (and very insufficient to the gigantic task) overview of Emerging Church. I admitted my limitations from the outset, including my lack of expertise (is anybody an expert on Emerging Church?), the problem of generalization, and the fact that it is still emerging and evolving. It’s like trying to describe a butterfly while looking at a caterpillar, without quite knowing what caterpillars become.

In order to facilitate the dialogue part of my task, I posted 4 large yellow post-its on the wall. They were titled: Hopeful Signs, Burning Questions, Vital Concerns, and Tentative Observations. It took more than a bit of prompting, but soon most everyone was writing something on the wall post-its. And it was enough to get the discussion started.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get around to talking about very many of the comments, although I hope to do so here over the next several days. Let me begin with the one that was in LARGE LETTERS:

ARE WE THROWING OUT THE BABY WITH THE BATHWATER?

This is a valid concern, especially if you value the traditions and practices of the church that you have known for your whole life. You don’t question those traditions and practices . . . and you don’t really understand anyone who does. It feels like a rejection of what you hold dear. It feels threatening, and irreverent, and more than a little personal. You might feel like reverting to an old middle school tactic: “What’s your problem, Punk?”

Truth be told, much of what I’ve read from the Emerging Church movement is critical of the institutional church. . . including what we’ve written here. And respectfully asking the question: “Are we throwing out the baby?” is a big improvement over the middle school version, even if it is asked in all capitals.

So, here’s my question: What exactly is the baby we need to careful not to throw out?

I used to have a friend. (He passed away about a year and a half ago.) He didn’t go to church, hadn’t been in a church for over twenty years. Robert lived across the street from the church where I was the pastor. Every so often I would walk across the street and visit with him on his front porch. We talked about a lot of different stuff. At first, Robert was leery of me and skeptical of my motives. I never asked him to come to my church, because I knew he would be uncomfortable.

One Sunday, we were having our worship outdoors and everyone would be in jeans and t-shirts. I thought Robert might find it less intimidating, so I asked if he’d like to come . . . and, to my surprize, he did. And the next week he came to worship indoors. And the next week, the same. He told me that he kinda enjoyed that first Sunday outdoors, and that people treated him OK. The second and third Sundays were tests, to see if people would keep being nice to him. “I figured I’d scare ‘em,” he said. [Robert was a large man . . . he wore bike leathers, sported large, dark tatoos, a bushy beard, and long (usually dirty) hair. I'd have been frightened if I'd met him in a dark alley, rather than his front porch.] He was surprised that people were still nice to him on his subsequent visits. (Truth be told, I was little surprised myself, but I couldn’t have been happier).

After a few months of never missing worship, Robert wasn’t there one Sunday. Monday morning I was walking toward the church and Robert was sitting on his porch. He waved me down and started to cross the street toward me. I couldn’t read his expression from where I was standing, so I considered running. [Remember, he was a big, burly bikeman.] But I stood my ground. “Brother Bob,” he called out (I don’t know when he started calling me that, but it was a good sign). “I wanted to explain where I was yesterday.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” I replied.

“But I want to,” he insisted. “We have a friend who’s in jail. The prison visitation is only on Sundays and we went to see her yesterday. I’m so sorry we weren’t at church.”

I was taken aback by his explanation . . . not so much by what he said he was doing, but because he felt it necessary to rationalize his absence from the church service. I wanted to say, “Robert, please don’t come back to my church. I don’t want that kind of attitude rubbing off on you. I don’t want my church to ruin you!”

Instead, I said, “Robert,” “that’s God-work! Visiting people in jail is just the kind of stuff Jesus taught us to do. And it’s much more important than being at church.”

I’m really careful about who I invite to church nowadays. I wouldn’t want any of my friends to be ruined. To them I say, “please, don’t come to my church”

[Actually, my church is a great church and I don't think it would ruin any of my friends. But a certain kind of mindset sometimes kicks in sub-consciously. It's part of the "church culture" baggage that we seem to have in this country . . . but I guess I'll save that rant for another day.]

Nicholas Gray has written an interesting post over at Essential Shift. Here’s an excerpt:

If I had it my way I would do away with outreach events. I would get rid of every event we hold at our church that is geared towards bringing non-Christians to our church. Now let me explain. Non-Christians are non-Christians for a reason, and they don’t come to church for a reason. 99% of everyone here in America has been to a church, has been invited to a church, or has been witnessed to, and there are still those who want nothing to do with the church. Why do we think that inviting them to a murder mystery night get them to change their mind? I’ll tell you why, we want it on our turf, we want to call the shots. . . .

. . . I think we have forgotten how important communication is. People don’t like to be talked at, they like to discuss, ask questions, and unfortunately we don’t give that type of atmosphere at the church. There is a preconceived notion among non-Christians that when they are at church they will be talked at. We don’t give them a whole lot of evidence the other way either. If we go to them, they are comfortable, they are in control. In that situation, they can ask questions and even leave if they want to. You can read the whole post here.

Nicholas is absolutely right. Of course, Christians aren’t alone in preferring our comfort zone, but we sure can’t BE the church by remaining cocooned in our little safe sanctuary. Real ministry . . . real love . . . is done out there, not in here. Never once did Jesus set up camp and hold a “y’all come” blueberry pancake breakfast. He was always among the people . . . touching, talking, healing, teaching.

Following the Jesus way is messy, but it’s the only way to be real. A friend of mine said it this way, “If you’re going to be a real Chirstian, you’ve got to sit in the smoking section.” If we want to be real we have to risk being out of our comfort zone; we’ve got to risk uncomfortable questions; we’ve got to enter the “unsafe” discussion; and take the risk of letting others call the shots; even the risk of letting them walk away (something Jesus was never afraid to risk).

In my next post, I’ll give you yet another reason to say, “Don’t come to my church.”

Here is an oldie but goodie from Tony Campolo (my favorite radical). I ran across again this week and decided to share it here:

I would urge you to consider this fully, and to think about the words of St. Augustine: “The church is a whore, but she’s my mother.” That statement brilliantly conveys how I feel about church. It is easy for me, like so many of the young Evangelicals I know, to note the ways the church has been unfaithful as the bride of Christ. You don’t have to look too hard to see that the Evangelical church in America has a great propensity for reducing Christianity to a validation of our society’s middle-class way of life. Unquestionably, the church too often has socialized our young people into adopting culturally established values of success, rather than calling them into the kind of countercultural nonconformity that Scripture requires of Christ’s followers (Romans 12:1-2).
[Tony Campolo from Letters to a Young Evangelical]

Embedded in Tony’s comments is this remarkable quote from St. Augustine: “The church is a whore.” I guess thoughtful Christians have fully recognized the failings of the church for quite a long time, huh? But it is the second part of the Augustine quote: “she is my mother” that gives me pause today. It’s easy to bash the church for not being everything she’s supposed to be. [Although I'm not everything I'm supposed to be.] However, it is also the church that has given us the saints, teachers, reformers, and martyrs of the faith. It is the church that gave rise to the great social reform movements . . . that gave us Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, and Desmond Tutu, to name a few.

Disillusionment with the church can really only come from an accurate interpretation of what the church is meant to be, . . . and that doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens in the womb of the church . . . at least it did for me (that the desire to experience the kingdom of God “on earth as it is in heaven” is birthed) and at the bosom of the church (where that desire is suckled into a proper understanding of God’s mercy, peace, and righteousness). Even Jesus’ ministry came from within the temple culture of Judaism.

Jesus had myriad criticisms of that religious system (as did his prophetic predecessors), as only an “insider” can. Yet, it was that system that had spawned his devotion to the God, Yahweh. And it was his study of the Hebrew prophets that helped him to conceive of what Tony dubbed “the kind of countercultural nonconformity” exhibited by Jesus and his earliest followers.

This Sunday @ 6:30pm, we’re hosting a Journey Community Gathering. It’s in the basement at Seven Hills Church (18th and Alexander Ave in Owensboro). We’ll be serving up some good food (chili) and good conversation. Actually, the conversation is really the point, although I’ve found that food enhances the dialogue.

The discussion theme for the evening will be “Community.”  So we’ll be talking about what it is, why we need it, and how to acheive it. Hope you can join us.

I believe theology is for people, not the other way around. It’s really just thinking about God, which is best done in community. I invite you to enter into dialogue with us as we do theology. I called it a process in the title, but I think “event” may be a better description. At its best, it emerges as people in community struggle together to put words to their experience of the holy. Words are really all we’ve got to get our minds around spiritual realities that are often beyond words. But not to name it, not to put it in a story, or a poem, leaves us all a little poorer. So . . . let’s wrestle with the words, together!

A friend forwarded the following series of questions:

“Now here is a question. Jesus died for man’s sins. [I digress but why do people have to die to satisfy God? Wiped out a bunch in the flood because they were bad. Sodom and Gomorrah wiped off the map because they were too much like Vegas. Told Abraham to kill his son Ishmael (or was it Isaac) to test his faith. Tortured Job for the same reason. Sent His only Son to die. What's with the sacrifices? A big thank you is not enough?] Back to the original question. What sins did Jesus have to die for? Was it original sin? If you don’t buy the Adam and Eve story does the whole saved by Christ’s sacrifice go out the window? Do you have to believe A to get to Z or can you believe in bits and pieces? I am not asking to pick a fight, but I honestly don’t know the answers to these questions.”

These are important questions! And this author is not alone in asking them. A lot of people are finding the “handed down” orthodox answers to be less than satisfactory. I enter the dialogue here, not because I’ve got all the answers, but because the questions need to be pondered, not avoided. “Wrestling” with such ponderables is at the center of faith and is something of its essence. Here is my offering to the continuing conversation: (more…)

While driving into town this morning, I saw the worst bumper sticker ever . . . It read:

“AIDS cures fags.”

I was immediately shaken . . . sickened really. I thought I would throw up. . . . really . . . I was repulsed!

Of course, I’ve seen and heard some of the others: “God hates fags.” “Fags are going to hell.” “AIDS is God’s punishment for homosexuality.” And perhaps I’ve gotten too used to seeing them, but this one took me by surprise. Worse still, the other side of the bumper had a sticker with the name of a church. How disgusting!

How is it that some people who claim to be speaking for God can be so un-godlike? (more…)

I know, it’s become a trite theological word! But I’m coming to believe that it’s also the key concept in Christianity. Somewhere I read that C. S. Lewis considered “grace” or “forgiveness” to be the single most important contribution of Christianity to the world, and that which sets Christianity apart from other religions. And for good reason. Jesus’ teachings and practice of grace were (and continues to be) a radical departure from the way of the world.

Too bad that a religion founded on the notion of grace, as expressed through its founder, could have grown so far from its practice. Philip Yancey, in his book, What’s So Amazing About Grace?, laments that the Christian church is often more likely to practice UNGRACE rather than grace! Why is that?

While Jesus taught his followers to “forgive 70 times 7,” we find it difficult to forgive even once? While Jesus taught us to “forgive (love) your enemies,” we have trouble forgiving our children and spouses and parents and best friends. While Jesus died with grace on his tongue, “Father, forgive them,” we often carry intolerance and even hatred in our hearts.

I’m trying to learn the demands of real grace. Things like . . . (more…)