My Relational Rabbit-Holes: Why I do not agree to disagree.

In a recent post, Paul Louis Metzger compared following Jesus to Lewis Carroll’s “Alice” who, following the White Rabbit, is soon “falling down a very deep well.” Metzger asks, “Once we enter [into our pursuit of Jesus], do we really have a choice as to what will happen?”

Yes. Sadly, we do have a choice, still.

With Jesus, we have not fallen down a rabbit-hole. And that is truly unfortunate. Because in following Christ’s path many suppose that there are off-ramps to this highway, other courses we could set to the mark ahead of us, or at least some occasions on which the best option is to simply stop where we are, so as to avoid arriving at the place to which Christ calls us.

I have co-led two recent discussions with fellow-Christians whom I deeply respect. And yet nearly all expressed limitations on their commitment to pursuing Christian unity. Reasons to avoid “theology in community” included the potential for immature emotional outbursts, “unanswerable questions” raised when mutually studying scripture, and even the simple possibility of facing one’s own misunderstandings of God’s word.

Our discussions amply illustrated the difficult requirements of the true oneness-in-Christ for which Jesus prayed (John 17:20-21,23) and toward which the Apostle Paul admonishes us (Philippians 2:1-2). We also illustrated, though, how easily we yield to the temptation to limit our walk with Christ. We claim Him as Lord, proclaim ourselves His followers, and then tell Him how we set the boundaries where we choose to go “this far, and no farther” (Job 38:8-11).

Authentic, transparent, and vulnerable fellowship is costly. It takes time to listen to others’ perspectives. It takes courage to re-examine the presuppositions and prejudices we hold toward others, even Christ, and especially His word. It takes humility to admit that amidst the diverse perspectives of what and how to “do church” it may, in fact, be some of our own assumptions or conclusions that are…well, wrong.

But if I am unwilling to face my misunderstandings, my mistaken assumptions, my misgivings about following Jesus, and any of my other sins, then it my motives probably stem from something other than a decision to be a follower of Jesus, much less rightfully claim Him as my Lord.

Therefore, I will continue to object when told we must “agree to disagree” for the sake of “unity.” If “silence gives its own consent,” then failing to contradict this falsehood is equally heresy. I would enlist you, too, in this cause: Do not let someone preemptively break off the process of deepening our relationships, improving our theology, and more closely following Jesus Christ.

I do not agree to disagree. Instead, I choose to commit to Christ, to you, and to others. I try to understand the substance of our disagreements. I seek to clarify what and how you believe and behave as you do. I want to pursue study and prayer with you (i.e., “theology in community”) to more fully experience our unity, even when our beliefs and behaviors may continue in diversity.

Why? Ultimately, because I put my hope in Christ’s desire to see us be one. I put my trust in the ability of the Holy Spirit to enlighten our understanding of God’s word together. And I set my course by the mark set by the Father to whom Jesus prayed: nothing less than full reconciliation in my relationship with Him, and with you.

The temptation will remain to stop in my tracks, to crawl off the altar, or even to lay aside the cross I am called to carry. But even though I am not in free-fall with Alice, there is nowhere else the path leads. All that is left to me is to follow, or let my life grind to a halt.

“People of Podunk! You, too, can join a mega-church.”

By definition, a megachurch is bigger than several towns in which I’ve served…combined. A total of two thousand attendees each weekend numbers more than the populations of East Carbon City and Sunnyside, Fort Jones and Etna, or McArthur, Fall River Mills, and Glenburn. And yet, surprisingly, we have megachurch ministries conveniently available in some of the most remote among those mountain communities—even without resorting to televangelists, podcasts, or road-trip pilgrimages to their Christian Kaabas.

I’m looking for a word to describe this phenomenon as it spreads to more and more rural communities. It can’t be “gentrification,” because that term describes the “economic development” of lower income urban areas into neighborhoods fit for the “gentry” (i.e., middle and upper class proponents of an “urban renewal” that “spells Negro removal in the minds of many African Americans,” according to a Portland, Oregon pastor quoted by Paul Louis Metzger in his post “The Gentrified Church—Paved with Good Intentions?” It’s available here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/07/the-gentrified-church-paved-with-good-intentions-2/.) Even where the original families refuse to sell-out, they are often forced out by the resulting rise in the cost-of-living, especially the increased tax burden for property assessed at what it “should be worth,” if it were “improved.”

So the process by which inner-city neighborhoods are destroyed through the displacing of local families, is called “gentrification.” But in rural communities a similar process destroys local churches and community service ministries through a similar displacing of individuals and families. The justification is not “new and better housing and businesses,” as with urban areas. Instead, it is the promise of “new and better worship and preaching.” Satellite campuses simulcast sermons from churches far removed from the local community. “Franchise locations” establish services with professional-quality performers shipped in for the initial marketing efforts. In both cases, exceptional financial investments, however temporary they may be, lure capable volunteer staff from leadership positions within their previous local congregations.

Before dismissing my perspective as the result of “sour grapes,” please understand that the congregation I serve has weathered four such “church-plants” in our area in recent years. Our ministry continues to develop and grow but, as the oldest church in at least the entire county, we are, in fact, the most susceptible to erosion by these “new and improved” innovations. I grieve over those whose former focus on extending the blessings of Christ’s kingdom into the local community has shifted toward the “mother-church” and her “in-house/on-site” ministries (i.e., ministries to Christians, by Christians, for Christians, with any outreach or missions beyond serving Christians primarily evaluated by the way in which they affect Christians.)

As I noted above, regarding these branch-offices and the damage resulting to the local bodies of Christ in rural communities, I agree with my fellow doctoral student that “gentrification” is not the word I’m looking for. What, then, do I call these “attractive new improvements” drawing local Christians to megachurch-sponsored emporiums of religious goods and services? If they were expanding the involvement of Christians in community service ministry, or enhancing fellowship among the local body of Christ, or even maintaining the quality of their performances beyond their initial marketing phase, I might be more charitable. But where they drain resources from the local body of Christ in service of a broader reach and deeper resources for churches serving the needs of other communities elsewhere (and that is a charitable exaggeration in some cases), the word that comes to mind is “arrogation.” I like it both for its proper usage (“the appropriation of, or claim to, something for oneself without the right to do so”) and the implication of prideful arrogance in willfully redefining the body of Christ and the mission of the local church.

I know it’s not “gentrification.” But I still find the similarities to be remarkable.

Soylent Church, Part Two: Why, in a World Awash in “Successful Ministry Careers,” I Choose to Be a “Failure”

In yesterday’s post, I admitted being complicit (i.e., “an accomplice”) in a religious practice that has damaged my family, parishioners, congregations, and denomination. The same has happened to and through countless other church leaders. But I need to be clear, with myself, about that from which I have repented.

You’re welcome to read along.

In the 1980s and 90s, church leaders were sometimes trained to see our “target audience” as “consumers of religious goods and services.” At other times, we were to evaluate our congregations by applying “the Pareto Principle,” investing 80% of our time in the 20% who showed promise as “producers of additional disciples.” We were taught to motivate donors to open their various “pockets” in support of ministry expenses, while professional clergy did “the real job.” Those who were unable to finance our ministries were still valuable as “cogs in the wheels of our programs.” (Never underestimate how many “volunteers” the average church event requires!) And even before my first Sunday as a pastor (September 11, 1983), I understood that whatever I thought about persons, their needs, and their growth as Christian disciples, it was their status as “statistics to be reported to headquarters” that would largely determine my “success” or “failure” as a pastor.

These work. So does a "Free Beer" sign.

I was sorely tempted, and I yielded. At least monthly, filling out those reports, I reduced persons to something less than divinely-beloved human beings. Why? Our lofty goals demanded it. There were more important measures of ministry. We were going to “Bring Back the King!”

I was part of a movement that sought to radically and rapidly multiply our churches and adherents. We planted one hundred churches across North America—all on the same day—coinciding with the 100^th anniversary of our denomination’s founding. Without a hint of irony, A Movement for God, from our office of National Church Ministries, refers to “the ‘Easter 100’ church planting offensive.” Though many of those attempts (over half, in the district I was then serving) quickly withered without establishing viable congregations, we pressed on. Simultaneously awed by our “success” and bizarrely attracted to rhyming our marketing slogans, we sought to plant “A Thousand More by ’94.”

I’m not kidding about the rhyming. I was serving as a pastor, and as regional extension assistant for our district. While attending our denomination’s annual meetings, I mentioned the results of having “planted” one hundred churches in one year, and asked the National Director of Church Growth how we established the time-line for planting 143% of that number, per year, for seven years straight. Again, I heard no irony in his answer to my question, “Why do we think we can do this by 1994?” He said, “Because it rhymes.”

One size fits some. Offends others.

Years ago, Lyle Schaller addressed church-growth, seeker-sensitive, statistics-driven acolytes like me. He claimed, “We count people because people count.” But what I was told and trained to really count on was the need for numbers. Otherwise, my “ministry” would not be considered a success, and my “career” would stall. And so I counted and reported what some call “nickels and noses” or “butts in the pew and bucks in the plate.” But even as I filed my monthly, quarterly, and annual reports to the parent corporation, I found that I couldn’t resist the time-consuming, face-to-face, limited-return-on-investment pastoral practices of preaching, teaching, visitation, and counseling. Thus, I “neglected to transition,” in Schaller’s terms, from being a “shepherd” to a “farmer” to a “rancher” and beyond.

I couldn’t complain about a stalled career. I knew that some were watching theirs end, and abruptly at that.

My friend, the church-growth director, shared that we were destroying the ministry careers of more than half of our church-planting pastors. He said, “When these churches don’t survive, I send the pastors’ resumes out to all our district superintendents. The superintendents don’t even return my phone calls. There’s nobody who’ll even talk to these pastors. They’re dead meat.” Since I was serving a struggling church-plant at the time, I had to ask: “So, what about folks who have a successful track record, but the church they’re planting doesn’t survive?” He didn’t turn toward me when he said it: “Well, you’re probably not dead meat. But you’d certainly be horse meat.” And soon I was. But I got over it. I got back in the saddle, after being horse meat. I’m glad I did. Not everyone got that opportunity.

Much cuter than any pictures of actual horse meat.

But still, to be accurate, I need to clearly state: I “was” part of what I still call “our” denomination. I am repentant from my attitudes and actions as part of the church-planting/church-growth/seeker-sensitive focus of our movement. And yet I still own that this is “our” problem. How does that work? Am I or aren’t I in or out?

Today, some of my former colleagues sigh sadly and wonder how it is that a young man with such promising skills ended up tucked away in the boondocks. Why have I been relegated to serving a small, rural mountain community? What did I do to be ostracized by the denomination that upholds my ordination, but refuses to license me to “that place?”

I honestly believe that the answer to those questions is simple: I began to listen carefully, and to hear my calling—not only my calling as a pastor, but to be the pastor of The Glenburn Community Church! I have sought to obey Jesus Christ in fulfilling my ministry as a servant to others for His sake (II Cor. 4:5). I don’t always do it as well as I’d like. But I also tend not to forget that those I serve, and serve with, are persons.  

And persons are not the stuff that careers are made of. But when the “career” I’m living is over, I trust that many of the persons I choose to serve will receive me into “the eternal dwellings” (Luke 16:9).

If ever there was a place where horse meat tasted "just like chicken," this has to be it.

Soylent Church: Key to a “Successful Ministry Career"

In his post, “Producers, Consumers, and Communers,” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2014/01/producers-consumers-and-communers/) Paul Louis Metzger refers to “a noted pastor (who) has called on men to be real men by moving from being consumers to being producers.” Dr. Metzger then offers a third option, one that I believe is soundly based on the nature of human beings.

As I understand scripture, we are created to bear the image and likeness of the one God, eternally existing in three persons. We are designed to be relational, communicating with one another in authenticity and transparency. Anyone who’s tried this, however, know that it results in far more vulnerability than most of us would prefer. Still, trusting in the God who created us, many of us persevere in seeking to establish, maintain, enhance and, when necessary, restore and reconcile our relationships with one another.

From a similar perspective, Dr. Metzger labels his third option, “Communers.”

I would note, though, that the “noted pastor” noted above does, at least, offer an improvement over the approach too many others still take. Where human beings are considered as producers and consumers, there is still a sense that both categories describe persons in relation to one another. Sadly, the church has lost that simple focus at the level of local leadership, and in the corporate competition of divisive denominationalism.

In 21^st Century North American Christianity, our most common leadership structures replace pastoral practitioners (e.g., the four offices serving the purposes of Ephesians 4:11-16) with entrepreneurs, chief-operating-officers, and staff-management specialists. This shift is driven (to quote another noted pastor) by similarly replacing persons (whether considered parishioners, congregants, members of Christ’s body, or some other term) with statistics. 

We still speak about the importance of caring for and cooperating with God’s people, joining in unified service to Christ and others. But for those activities there is no blank to fill-in, nor box to check-off on the parent corporation’s monthly, quarterly, and annual reports. Where the church’s local leaders and denominational directors are producers or consumers or both, we don’t even turn persons into our primary product any more. People a merely a commodity that we integrate as components of our conglomerates’ machinery.

And yes, I do mean our product and our conglomerates. In a subsequent post, I will explain my complicity in having damaged my family, parishioners, congregations, and denomination. But for now, I want to stay on-topic about the need to repent and refocus our ministry priorities in order to bring health and strength, and perhaps even some unity to the body of Christ.

Dr. Metzger’s concern about “a bifurcation of humanity” (splitting us from being “one another” into two groups: producers and consumers) is well-founded. But the underlying cause, in my experience, is the constant re-infection of individuals, families, and congregations by those whom they call “pastors.” Among local congregations, aspiring program directors and public speakers, especially those with appealing personalities, have an incredible depth and breadth of management and marketing resources available to them. These methods and machinery are often effective in improving the attendance and fiscal capabilities of their religious organizations. But I don’t see much to suggest that these enterprising employees are pastors. And I’m not sure that the crowd that gathers around them can legitimately be called “a church.”

Unity in the body of Christ, and any community among persons in general, must begin with accepting the basic premise: It is persons, not products to whom, with whom, for whom, and (considering our position before God through Christ) in whom we live, serve, and love.