Kids

My 4 year old son was working on memorizing some verses with my wife today. "God is love," he repeated proudly. Joy asked, "Where is that found?" With great confidence, he proclaimed, "North America!"

Kids are great.

Questions

Questions that I'm currently pondering, prompted in part by Jen Lemen's post on the gospel:

• What is the nature of imago dei? Can it be interpreted relationally - does being created in the image of God mean that we are created with the capacity and need for relationship?
• What is sin? Can it be interpreted relationally - is sin not just a cause of but rather a function of our inability to live in right relationship with God and each other?
• What is the gospel? Can it be interpreted relationally and communally - is the gospel God's provision and call for us to live in right relationship with God and each other?
• What is the church? Is it God's calling of a people to live in such a way that the original intent of the imago dei is restored?

In other words, I think the theme of community runs through the very heart of the story - I'm starting to think that interpreting scripture as primarily a word to individuals is misinterpretation of the essential core of the gospel. Can you have gospel without community? I don't think so.

Homogeneity

Geoff Holsclaw posted some thoughts recently that I think are worth examining. He says, "The self-help culture has clothed itself in the garb of Christian community to legitimate a shallow narcissism...So what does this have to say about those in the emerging church who perpetuate/multiply ad infinitum descried subcultures in the name of relevant community? Is the emerging church a technologically advanced simulation of community? or the real deal?"

In other words, to what degree is the "community" of the emerging church based on commonality and homogeneity? The question sounds arrogant and abrasive for me to ask - until I think of some of the conversations that I've read recently about how the movement is starting to look suspiciously white and male. In the interest of incarnation, do we make Jesus look too much like ourselves? On the other hand, do we, intentionally or unintentionally, isolate ourselves from those who are different from us? I am reminded of an article that was posted ages ago on the old TerraNova website that described the danger of becoming "our own damn church" - it's far easier to define ourselves in terms of what we are not than it is to do so in terms of who we are.

Here's where things get challenging for me. Can I recognize the "church branding guys", for example, as fellow members of the body of Christ? What about the Passion coffee mug people? And those are the easy ones - I will, in all probability, never meet or even speak with any of those people. What about the people in my life who rub me the wrong way, or who are just so different from me that I struggle to identify any common ground on which to build a relationship?

And that, in essence, is the false assumption on which the argument hangs. Common ground, for the Christian, is not found in age, ethnicity, theological orientation, music preference, geography, shared interests, shared peeves, or shared pot-lucks. It begins and ends in the work of Christ. I am a part of the body of Christ - my community is the rest of the body, whether I want to recognize it or not.

Art

I've always wanted to be an artist. I'm not particular about what kind of artist; at various times I've tried singing, playing instruments, drawing, writing, and probably some other embarrassing attempts that my brain has graciously blocked from my waking memory. In some of these areas I've even achieved a degree of proficiency - but there's a certain something that I lack, some instinctive sense for the connection of things that turns a pile of rubbish into sculpture or the intertwining of words into poetry.

I have friends who are artists. My friend Jacob is an amazing poet and musician. When I listen to his lyrics, I find myself amazed at the vividness of the words he chooses and how perfectly they fit into his music. I know a woman (Leslie) whose doodles are more creative and beautiful than I could achieve in a month of drawing.

I don't know why this saddens me. I could turn on the theologian in me and decide that this desire is rooted in my creation by a Creator God. I could play the counselor and deduce that my need for acceptance fuels these longings. Or I could just be cynical and believe that we all want that which we cannot have.

In truth, it doesn't matter. In some sense, I think that we all are dissatisfied with ourselves. I often wonder what heaven will be like - when our creation is completed, when God will look at us and say, "It is good." I think that what I long for, more than anything else in all of scripture, is the day when I receive from my Creator "a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it." When the Creator names me, my true and eternal name, the name for which I was created and into which I am growing, then I will make sense - all of the pieces will fit, and my awkwardness and dissatisfaction with who I am will melt away in the knowledge that I am not a mistake, but that I am exactly who He intended me to be.

Needs

I lead the high school ministry for a church in the western Philadelphia suburbs. One of the things that our group has most struggled with over the past year is developing a sense of community (one of the reasons that I've thought so much about the topic). Recently, I had a conversation with someone connected to our ministry that, for me, highlighted the foundational issues facing our group, and in all probability, many churches in similar contexts. The conversation centered on the purpose of our ministry. My contention is that our high school ministry, as an extension of our local body and the global and historical body of Christ, exists primarily to participate in God's activity in the world. In other words, we are called to serve others. Surprisingly, the reaction that I received to this proposal was underwhelming. Instead, I was told, we should see our purpose primarily as meeting the needs of the high school students in our church.

In fairness, I do agree that we have a responsibility to take care of the members of the body. The hinge of the argument, however, centers on the definition of "needs". Our students are not what I would term "needy". We minister in a suburban context, and most of our families don't struggle economically. We struggle relationally - our "needs" center on our inability to create viable Christian community. This is, in my view, a perfectly valid need - the need for discipleship in Godly relationships. However, the how-to's of meeting this need is something that seems to me to be counter to conventional wisdom. Rather than focusing on "relationship-building" events, I propose that true Christian service is necessary as an antidote to relational crisis.

This is not an obvious leap, at least as it relates to my youth ministry training. But I think our struggles with community are directly related to a consumeristic stance towards church. At this point, many of the musings that I've shared lately come together in a sort of "aha" moment. Consumption and community are diametrically opposed. Taking a consumeristic stance towards the body of Christ requires that one view the body as a vehicle for meeting "felt needs". It is a selfish stance that takes before it gives. Community is based on valuing the other, loving one's neighbor, befriending the stranger, serving the underpriviledged. Instead of elevating self, community can only occur where self is in the process of being crucified with Christ.

To this extent, participation in the missio dei is a key antidote for a consumeristic stance towards God's people, and hence a key component in the development of true community. The focus of the community then becomes furthering the kingdom of God in the world instead of meeting "felt needs". The church sacrificially meets the needs of the world, giving of itself as Christ gave Himself for us. Ironically, then, community results in the needs of the body being met as the members serve one another in Christ. And that sounds like the gospel to me - giving away what we never had to receive what we do not deserve.

Hype

It's been quite fascinating to see the range of reactions that are surfacing to The Passion, especially in Christian circles. Most fascinating has been the number of people recently responding to the gearing up of the evangelistic machine in preparation for what has been termed "perhaps the best outreach opportunity in 2000 years" (www.thepassionoutreach.com, my thanks to Spencer Burke).

As I posted several days ago, I have mixed feelings about the hype. I'm very much looking forward to the movie. In honesty, I'm not sure if I'll see it in the theater - I'm anticipating an intense experience that would be difficult for me, personally, to see in public. I understand the excitement and the desire to communicate the message, and if this film prompts questions from honest seekers, then by all means we should be prepared to answer them. But the best opportunity in 2000 years? That stretches the bounds of credibility, and illustrates for me the flawed assumptions on which the "outreach model" is based:

• Outreach is information driven


• Outreach is event based


• Outreach is methodological/program-driven


• Outreach is market oriented


• Outreach is ecclesiocentric

It seems to me that this model differs little from any secular marketing strategy designed to increase brand recognition. I don't, honestly, find much significance in the term "outreach". It seems a far cry from thinking of participation in the missio dei. Missio dei begins with God and His purposes. It assumes the kingdom of heaven is active and at work in the world, and looks to join with the Spirit in kingdom activity. It looks back to the origins of God's people in the call of Abraham and realizes that God blesses so that we may bless others. A community participating in the missio dei stands in a priestly role as an intermediary between God and world.

Wow - that amazes me. I want to be a part of the activities of the kingdom of God. I think that the "best outreach opportunity in 2000 years" is in joining God's Spirit at work in the world - not passing out pamphlets after a movie.

Community

It's no secret that community is a hot topic these days. Most of the blogs that I read regularly have posted thoughts on, or related to, the topic of community even within the past week. I've been reading Doug Pagitt's new book on the topic of community. On a personal level, the student ministry that I oversee is struggling with issues of community - how do we learn to love each other and live in unity?

I had a conversation recently with the pastor of our church on the topic. We were discussing the common conception that people in a "postmodern" culture crave community. I've seen this statement made in many places by many people; I have made the statement myself. But I don't really believe it. I think that what most people want - when all of the packaging is stripped away - is the illusion of community. We want community on our terms, for our benefit, when it's convenient for us. We want people to be available for us; we want to have relationships that meet our social needs; we want the option of serving when we'd like to feel socially conscious. (I realize I'm painting with very broad strokes here.)

The reality of community is that it's hard work. Community is not a good outreach strategy or a nice method of being relevant to culture. It's work. It's effort. It's a pain in the arse. And it's God's intention for His people. It's the truest biblical apologetic - "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (Jn 13:35, TNIV) Being in community means putting others before myself. It means sacrifice. It means service. It means being committed to resolving conflicts biblically and living at peace with my neighbors. It means that I often don't get my way, and that sometimes I have to apologize for things about which I don't necessarily believe I was wrong. It means submitting my desires and actions to the accountability and correction of others. Sometimes, it means conflict with others who don't appreciate your desires to do these things. It's quite messy - but also quite beautiful (at least I'd imagine that it is; I've never truly experienced it).

I don't do these things well. Sometimes, though, I'd really like to. Most of the time, I say that I'd like to, but what I mean is that I'd like everyone else to do them well. The bottom line, though, is that I believe in community - not the outreach program or value statement or book title, but in the real, honest, Christian variety, the kind that I pray to experience occasionally this side of heaven.

Confession

At least part of the reason that I blog, I'm starting to think, is that it serves as a public confession of sorts. I'm able to hold out my inner life to the scrutiny of others. I'm in a position today, again, of having something to confess - and I'm not quite sure what to do about it.

My wife sent me a link to a story concerning the evangelical response (primarily in the USA, from what I can gather) to the upcoming movie The Passion. In short, it's been overwhelmingly positive. The movie has received endorsements from such evangelical heavyweights as Lee Stroebel and Rick Warren, among others. Churches are mobilizing to respond to the interest generated by the film and are hoping to use it as an avenue to see thousands, if not millions, hear the gospel.

I'm here to confess that I have a hard time being excited about that.

I don't mean the film - without seeing it, I'm excited that someone has decided to take a serious artistic look at the climax of the biblical narrative. I'm pleased that the film is rated R - that says to me that the people involved are being serious about the story and attempting to do it justice. Gibson's comments have, thus far, impressed me - including his attempt to communicate that we are all responsible for Christ's death. These are positive things.

But when I read about the efforts being mounted to capitalize on the interest in the film, my cynicism starts to emerge. I understand the effort and the desire and the hope that people would come to faith through the message presented by this film. But the comments I'm reading from those in the evangelical world are missing one key point: this is my story. The response is triumphalistic - it's typical "us-vs-them". It's almost gleeful in the wonderful marketing coup afforded by the film. There is a lack of sobriety, of humility, of mourning, of recognition of the weight of its central message: I killed him. It's my fault. I rebelled, I sinned, I did it. We all did - all of us, each and every one.

While I don't doubt the sincerity of those desiring to spread the good news, I, personally, can't put on the same face. I can't stand by handing out leaflets and watching videos about how to respond to questions. I can't do it. I can't disengage myself from the story enough to participate. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, or maybe a mix of both. But part of me wonders if, perhaps, the evangelicals' public response was to publically mourn the death of the Son of God, publically confess our role and publically regret the necessity of the event caused by our continued rebellion, would those not of the faith hear the story more completely?

Or am I just nuts?

Technology

I'm a bit slow on the uptake for new technology. But I just gave Mozilla Firefox a try, and I've gotta say I'm pretty impressed. The customizability is fantastic. There's even a blogger plug-in that lets you blog from the context menu.

On the other hand, my apologies to anyone who tried to view the site and found the colors screwy - Explorer was hiding some deficiencies in my html. Ah, well - live and learn.

Emergent™

Andrew Jones posted something that, I think, underscores the challenge of the contextualization/marketing dilemma facing the emerging church. It's a fascinating read.

Now, before I comment, I want to confess my addiction. I am a book addict. I'm one of those people that Amazon loves - I read the recommendations they provide, and often I buy them. I have books on my shelf that I haven't read, and just received my new shipment yesterday (gotta read Pagitt's new one, and there was this other recommendation...) I read voraciously (several books a week, typically), I love being in the thick of ideas, and I spend a lot of money on books.

Now, having said that, we find here a discussion that, at its core, revolves around how book publishers can take advantage of the current interest in postmodernism by providing materials that will appeal to people of all opinions on the subject. Why is this a concern? Primarily because enough interest has been generated in the "emerging church" that it's now become cool. It's cool to be "pomo", it's cool to be "emergent", it's cool to have candles and meditate during gatherings. It's also dangerously close to becoming the next WWJD, if the corporate sponsors have anything to do with it. Once the focus leaves the "other" and returns to the church, much of what has been exciting about the movement will die.

Now, most (if not all) of the voices that I hear in the conversation are determined not to let that happen. I wonder, however, how long it can be resisted. Institutionalization is a subtle thing. It works gradually, slowly transforming rebellious hippies into corporate executives. At one point, Willow Creek was "cutting-edge"...

I think that tremendous opportunity presents itself to the emerging church movement. I'm also skeptical about human nature. I believe that all of us (and I'll put myself at the front of the line) are, at core, selfish and prideful (our scriptures call it "sinful".) If we can make something about us, we will. So, what should the Christian response be? We need to recognize the danger and constantly submit our motivations to prayer and accountability, discarding anything that represents self-focus. We need to continue to focus on the culture(s) in which we live and not get focused on technique or method (as an end in itself). And we need to remain rooted in our Story, the Story of the gospel, the Story of which God is the main character and of which we are merely supporting players.

Marketing

I've had a question that's been bothering me for some time. The question is this: What is the difference between contextualization and marketing? In some sense, my previous post brought this issue to the fore again for me. I think the question is complicated by the fact that we live in such a consumer-driven culture. It seems that, on some level, this is the same question that the New Testament church wrestled with - how does the church live in the world while maintaining its identity as a peculiar people of called-out ones, aliens and sojourners in a land not of its own?

Unpacking that question could occupy a lifetime. I'd like to pose one thought in particular, but even as I write I find myself deliberately passing by other tangents that are just as meaningful. I'll most certainly be returning at a later time to pick up those trails as well, because this question frames the crux of the dilemma that the emerging church faces in its attempt to live meaningfully in a postmodern society. My suggestion for the difference between marketing and contextualization is encapsulated by one word: incarnation.

Incarnation highlights the motivational differences between these two stances. Marketing is motivated by self. The goal of marketing is to sell a product, service, or message in order to further one's personal goals. It is unconcerned with the targets' true needs; rather, it focuses on generating perception of need so as to increase market share. Now, with that thought in mind, read the marketing pitch linked to my previous post. Absolutely terrifying, in my opinion.

Incarnation - contextualization - begins with the other. In fact, it requires that the contextualizer not only understand the culture, but in some sense be a part of it, belong to it, claim it as his or her own. This is where things get dicey, and the original question - how to be in the world while not of it - again comes into play. My premise is that the incarnational Christian, the incarnational church, must simultaneously live in, and belong to, two worlds - the world of culture and the world of the gospel. That, to me, sounds suspiciously like Jesus's talk of the kingdom of God being among us.

There's much more to discuss here...

Brands

liquidthinking posted an unbelievable link that I couldn't let pass without a comment. It's a church marketing (what a freaking oxymoron) site that's talking about their branding services.

And you might want to sit down first.

Here's my favorite line: "Create a lasting impression for your church. Provide your congregation with an image of something great - something they can be proud to be associated with - something worthy of this great Gospel!"

Hey - church branding guys! Let's get one thing straight - nothing we do is worthy of the gospel! That's sort of, you know, the point.

I won't say, though, that they're being unscriptural. In fact, it's almost as though they pulled their pitch straight from Genesis 11: "Then they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.'"

Personally, though, I'd try to find better parts of the story to emulate, but to each his own.

Story

Tonight I sat in my seminary class and had tears come to my eyes as my professor talked of the story of God and the amazing connection that we have with those who have gone before. (I realize that this statement sounds like an exaggeration - most tears in seminary are probably not those of amazement. But I promise that it's true; I'm fortunate to have some amazing professors at Biblical Theological Seminary.) He was talking about how we read (and preach) the story in chunks that are too small. We miss the drama, the conflict, the grand themes, the tension, and the resolutions that feel all too brief before the characters are swept again into danger and adventure.

In truth, when we miss the Story, we miss our story. We fail to place ourselves in the grand drama of which God is the hero and central character. Is it then any wonder that life often seems to have no meaning?

In JRR Tolkien's The Two Towers, Sam reminisces to Frodo of the tale of Beren and Luthien, who stole one of the priceless Silmarils from the crown of the dark lord Morgoth in his own halls. (For an explanation of what a Silmaril is, you'll have to read the book.) "But that's a long tale, of course, and goes on past happiness and into grief and beyond it - and the Silmaril went on and came to Earendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We've got - you've got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on."

Our tale, God's tale, is still going on. It goes on past happiness and into grief and beyond it. When I read the tales of Abraham, of Jeremiah, of Mark, of Philemon, of Hosea, of Ruth, of Nehemiah, of Deborah...I read my tale. I read of God, and of His people, and of the story in which I live, and my eyes begin to fill with tears again.

Consumerism

Ways to be Christian in a consumer culture:

• Live simply


• Give without expecting return


• View others as intrinsically significant; view them as important for who they are, not for what they can do or for what they have


• Slow down


• Critique bigger-better-faster-more


• Be skeptical of marketing


• Be captured by mystery and wonder


• Think long-term


• Find fulfillment in relationships and service


• Create space for silence, stillness, and rest

(For the record, try to compile such a list without utilizing economic metaphors like "value" and "worth". That alone should highlight the challenge that we face.)