Unifying Our Fragmenting Society – “Who Cares?”

In his recent blog post, “How Do You Get the U.S. off Life-Support?” (referring to the growing incivility in public discourse that has been exacerbated by the examples set before us during this most recent election cycle), Paul Louis Metzger (disclosure: Dr. Metzger is my faculty mentor in my doctoral program) notes the position taken by Dr. Robert Potter (again, disclosure: Dr. Potter is the other academician reader of my dissertation/ministry project paper). Drawing an analogy to palliative care (seeking to alleviate a patient’s symptoms and pain, separate from addressing curative measures), Dr. Potter seeks a solution to the pressing question, “What needs to be done?” by framing the questions “What am I missing?” and “Who am I missing?” These are essential questions. In pain management and end-of-life care, the holistic approach to the mental, emotional, spiritual, and social dynamics of the patient and their family can often be even more important than the physical processes being treated.

As I have written elsewhere, addressing these multiple areas of concern is difficult, requiring in hospice care an interdisciplinary team that (by law) must at least include a physician, a medical social worker, and a pastoral counselor/chaplain in addition to the hospice manager. The intensive and extensive level of care provided through hospice during the final weeks and months of life is nearly impossible to provide elsewhere. Likewise, it often may seem as though the answers to “What am I missing?” and “Who am I missing?” are not only daunting in the depths of their complexity, they may be endless in breadth. It may seem impossible to determine, much less include all that is missing, and all who are missing from the equation. In such cases, we may be tempted to take license to disengage from the process, allowing ourselves the escape clause: “We’ve done all that we can do.”

Why would I demand of us that we try any harder than that—either in treating a dying patient or in seeking to bring unity to a fragmenting society? Because I believe that beneath the questions “What am I missing?” and “Who am I missing?” lies a motivation that is, in my experience, so often unclear in both discussions. The question “Why is this pursuit so terribly important to you?” might be boiled down cynically to “Who cares?” But whether conservative or liberal, whether focused more exclusively on any few or encompassing all the “moral intuitions” that Dr. Potter cites (care, fairness, liberty, loyalty, authority, and sanctity), the answer is simply this: “You care.” For different reasons, at different levels, and from sometimes vastly divergent perspectives, it is impossible to deny that we have clear and passionate positions on most of the issues being discussed.

If you doubt whether you have such passions, simply put yourself in the place of those who are adversely affected by any of the issues. Start by asking yourself what levels of pain relief and symptom management (think uncontrollable nausea, for example) you would be willing to forego if your hospice team needed to cut back on their agency’s overtime. Questions of healthcare rationing may bore you. But faced with a decision on whether to pursue expensive treatments that have only the most miniscule chance of curing your disease? You may find yourself paying closer attention to the discussion.

The unifying issue for many participating in hospice care, as providers as well as for patients and their families, is that we generally acknowledge the reality of mortality. We not only provide care to the dying and bereaved, we number ourselves among them. Even when we are not among the most imminently dying, we willingly bereave ourselves, intentionally forming close personal friendships with people we know are going to die soon. The unity we find in that mutual mortality and shared grief allows us to discuss matters that nearly all others in our circles of influence work hard to avoid. (Most of them wish that we would avoid those topics, too.) But in caring about the issues, despite divergent positions, relative to hospice care, we are unified by our commitment to solidarity with and around the patient and their soon-to-be-bereaved family, knowing that we eventually will be one or the other or both.

So next, in the broader conversation about our national priorities, I would ask that you think about liberties you particularly enjoy. Would you care if they were being as maligned and restricted as those of others? Try considering your economic well-being threatened by those who would re-zone their neighborhoods to eradicate “your kind.” Imagine your religious affiliation (or lack thereof) as a reason to discredit and persecute you. And visualize yourself amidst the confrontation that would occur if armed authorities denied you your right to express your position on these or any other matters. You do care…if it’s your ox that’s being gored.

We all care. We merely subvert our engagement of these issues behind a pretense of apathy. Apathy, the lack of caring, is not what I find to be the cause of inaction. Instead, we choose not to engage on the basis of what I would call the economy of futility. We do not invest in solutions because we believe the problems to be insoluble. Therefore, we fail to recognize the undeniable unity of our concerns. At their core, our conflicts are universally compelling, if only we would admit how much we care about our own positions on the issues.

Will we agree on these positions? If you demand that I agree with your position, or I demand that you agree with mine, probably not. But we must agree, if we will admit that these are issues on which we each cannot help but have positions. Then, and perhaps only then, we might be willing to listen, understand, and collaborate in ways that resolve our conflicting positions on the issues themselves. Only then can we claim that “we’ve done all that we can do.”

In the Face of Fear: An Opportunity To Serve

This morning I was party to what I hope will prove to be the first of several important meetings. I helped to arrange the meeting for two primary reasons. First, we met in response to the great anxiety being expressed by a number of friends over the threats inherent in Tuesday night’s election results. Second, though, we met to discuss the encouragement I am seeing among others. Some within my circle of colleagues are already recognizing the need to address not only the anxieties but the very real dangers and damages those friends are experiencing. More importantly, they had some concrete ideas about how to do so.

Why I Am Concerned

Let me take care not to prophesy. Others’ visions of the future are more bleak than my own pessimism can manage, though not unrealistically so. I do believe it is highly likely that the successful portion of our American electorate will not receive what they have been promised. Worse, I also believe it to be entirely probable that several segments of our population are at risk of receiving exactly what has been threatened. But even in the age of instant information, I believe we are a long way from our own Kristallnacht and the Muslim equivalent of a Wannsee Conference.

In fact, the policy, legislative, and judicial changes of these next few years may or may not occur, and may or may not exacerbate the plight of those who are already oppressed, marginalized, and depersonalized. But they are already oppressed, marginalized, and depersonalized. And the dangers and damages they already face have not required even one executive order.

Consider the many who clearly imagine they will benefit when some portion of our society “takes America back” to whatever era it is they nostalgically prefer to our own. When this retrograde culture fails to materialize as fully as they would like, primarily in that it fails to benefit them as fully as they would like, they are likely to be even more angry than they have shown themselves to be. And they are already angry. The rise in hate crimes that has correlated with this past election season is alarming enough. Even if none of the actions that have been threatened are actually implemented on the federal level, at the personal level there is a perceived license for more direct aggression by misogynists, racists, homophobes, xenophobes, and whatever we call those who feel empowered to mock and bully persons with disabilities.

So, even if the difficulties faced by parts of our community do not precipitously deepen, it is impossible to imagine that they will appreciably improve over the next few months and years. Unless, that is, we choose to improve those circumstances ourselves.

What I Hope To Do

At the end of this morning’s meeting, I read from the notes I took, categorizing my observations. I felt the need to divide the messages I was hearing by considering what would best benefit two specific audiences.

The first audience comprises the victorious electorate celebrating their soon-to-be-crowned champion. As with many pastors this Sunday, and for scores of Sundays following, I have opportunity to preach to and teach some who number themselves among those triumphant supporters. I would seek to remind them that any benefits they imagine will shortly begin to arrive at their doorsteps come with a commensurate cost—not only paid from within the lives of others, but in the consequences of their own disregard for The Great Commandment (demonstrate your love for God by loving your neighbor—Matthew 22:34-40), inseparable as it is from The Great Commission (make disciples of all the nations—Matthew 28:18-20). This morning, I even used the Latin phrase, “status confessionis.” What this means is that we find ourselves at one of those unenviable points at which the Church must again remind herself of our responsibility to the integrity of the gospel—which must be proclaimed as much in our concrete behavior as in our claimed beliefs.

The second audience comprises those who recognize the credible threat to their safety embodied in the priorities and promises of this new and very different administration. They already perceive the scarcity of resources. They already endure the suspicions and accusations of their neighbors. They already recognize how vulnerable their basic necessities are to even minor socio-economic changes. And, whether or not the threats expressed ever materialize, they know that some will act out, in perceived impunity, the attitudes behind the speeches and sound-bites from which it has been impossible to escape over these past months.

For the benefit of this second audience, those who met this morning are engaging initially in some rapid-response research. In other words, we need some answers, but we need them yesterday.

What I Need To Know

Through our contacts (and their contacts as well) among the various segments of our Inter-Mountain Area’s communities, especially among those already involved in Community Service Organizations, Public-Assistance Agencies, and parish-oriented ministries, we are seeking two sets of information.

First, we want to develop a clear and comprehensive understanding of both the breadth and depth of the specific needs we are facing. These include the simplest necessities. For example, I was trained in crisis and trauma intervention to initially evaluate four basic needs: air, warmth, water, and food. Here in the Inter-Mountain Area, of course, we are blessed with the first and third of those resources in natural abundance. But many of our families can afford roughly three weeks of food per month. And warmth quickly becomes a relative term during several months each year. Beyond those necessities, access to healthcare, physical and mental, continues to be a problem. We must address the interpersonal issues of domestic violence, sexual assault, and the phobic tendency to bully anyone we find uncomfortably different from us. And remember that substance abuse, education and employment inequities, and the too-common experiences of prejudice and discrimination are only less visible because our society so successfully marginalizes those who endure them.

The second set of information involves the reason why many who read this will object that many of these needs are already being met. In fact, they are…for some, sometimes. But often, the needs of a few are being met by a few who have more than a few resources, and are yet unknown outside a relatively few in a small network of a few relationships. I do not want to overwhelm any one resource, of course. But I also recognize that there are many more resources available than are being utilized in the Inter-Mountain Area. Yet still, there are needs for which I am certain there are no resources currently available. Therefore, the second question, then, is this: What are the current resources available, and what are the gaps that need to be filled? It is that simple.

How You Can Help

If you know the answers to some of these questions, please answer them by emailing me: deathpastor@frontier.com. If you know of someone else who knows the answers to some of these questions, please forward them a link to this blog post.

For clarity’s sake, here are the questions:

1-What are the potentially unmet needs faced by the communities (and especially the oppressed, marginalized, and depersonalized) in the Inter-Mountain Area?

2-What are the potentially unknown resources available to the communities (and especially the oppressed, marginalized, and depersonalized) in the Inter-Mountain Area?

Thank you in advance for your assistance in determining both the needs and the resources of our communities.

Must You Sin in Order to Repent? Some thoughts on taking the terrible risk of ministry innovation (i.e., anything other than “the way we’ve always done it before”)

In my earliest years of ministry, I took risks. Many risks. I still do. But there were and are risks I should have taken from which I have retreated to a safe distance. Not that I admit cowardice. If my rationalizations are to be believed, I am only being prudent. I am not procrastinating. I am calculating the anticipated benefits against the potential costs. I am considering, contemplating, and completely over-thinking matters until any opportunity for effective action will have long passed. Therefore, my regrets, such that they may be, involve only the hindsight of wondering what might have resulted, had I boldly acted in a more timely manner.

But having boldly acted in a timely manner on other occasions, my hesitation seems justified. Some risks resulted in little or no benefit. Other Christians, noticing this, have reacted to some of my plans by criticizing me for the “wasted time and resources.” If for no other reason than this, I would excuse myself for developing some hesitation, a flinch-response at even the thought of stepping into risky territory.

Sometimes, Decisive Action Cannot Be Avoided

Once upon a time, however, avoidance, and even hesitation was not an option available to me. My first two congregations were considered to be in “redevelopment” mode. That meant that they would be closed soon if the new pastor, I, did not “turn things around.” In the immediate cause-and-effect panic of trying to spark life into dying congregations, two things were true. First, the dire financial conditions meant that decisive action could not be delayed, if I intended to feed my young family after the limited denominational subsidy ran out. And yet, second, each misstep, each call for extra effort that failed to produce tangible results, and every immature impatience I allowed to show would diminish the trust that I felt others needed to have in my abilities and wisdom…at age twenty-two and twenty-four, respectively, in those first two congregations.

You would be right to assume that those abilities and wisdom were in short supply. Thus, any trust those congregations placed in me at all was an act of faith in Christ to use even me for His purposes. Still, I felt I could not afford any suggestion that He was not doing so.

The primary reason for the success of those first two efforts is that I followed the advice of the Rev. Richard C. Taylor, Sr., my first district superintendent. When I expressed the above thoughts to him, probably in the breathless blurting that comes with being entirely overwhelmed by the challenges and reactions I was facing, I recall him saying, “Love God; love your people. The rest will all work itself out.” It did.

But yesterday, I was thinking through some decisive actions looming on my current horizon. I recognized that there had been one other element that was probably just as essential to those successes as loving God and loving the congregation. That indispensable, decisive action? Repentance.

In this context, I do not mean repentance from sin, although that is even more necessary to ministry success. But there are times when those we serve need to know that we are engaging in experimentation. Especially in redevelopment ministries, but in most other congregations as well, we are trying to accomplish God’s purposes among a community that has responded as much as they are going to respond to “the way we’ve always done it before.” We are looking for the new wineskins in which the new wine of new converts and new areas of service can grow, mature, and become all that God intends. And yet, it might not work. But if it does not work, we will try something else.

Case Study: The Coffee and Cookies Experiment

Here is one example. At The Glenburn Community Church we enjoy a time of fellowship and refreshments following the worship service. It used to be held in “fellowship hall,” which was the term we used for the schoolhouse, the middle of three buildings on our campus at the junction of Glenburn and McArthur Roads in the heart of the Fall River Valley. Attempting to connect with visitors, however, used to be very difficult. They would only rarely walk past their cars in order to continue fellowship in another building, even in the best of weather. When we proposed moving coffee and cookies into the sanctuary, however, as a way of getting better acquainted with (our now-captive) visitors, a number of objections arose. The primary and temporarily successful argument was that it historically we had believed it would be inappropriate to have food in the same building where we worshiped.

But then, amidst discussions about the long history of far-more interactive fellowship in previous generations at Glenburn (we are, at 131 years, the oldest church in Shasta County), one of our longest-tenured members (granddaughter of one of the earliest pastors) mentioned with great delight the potlucks and pie socials that were once held here.

One episode in Glenburn’s history is essential to understanding how important that comment was. For several reasons, the local school district for a time needed additional space for elementary students. Unfortunately, they had neither the resources to bus them to Glenburn’s schoolhouse, nor to build their own. The simplest solution often being the best, The Glenburn Community Church “loaned” our schoolhouse to Fall River Mills Elementary School. That meant it was jacked up and transported there. This also meant that during those years, when the third structure at Glenburn, the Sunday School building, had not yet been built, and the schoolhouse was now miles away, there was only one building on the property. The sanctuary.

The occasional pie socials could have been scheduled during only those months of surer weather. But monthly potlucks could not all have been held outdoors. Once upon a time, I suspected, the congregation of The Glenburn Community Church had indeed eaten food in the sanctuary. Of course, I asked. And my friend explained, with equally great delight, how the men would turn the pews to face one another and set table tops between them, turning the worship venue into a banquet hall quite quickly.

This revelation about our own history (“the way we’d always done it before” suddenly became plural—the ways we done it) overcame the primary argument against seeking greater fellowship with coffee and cookies in the sanctuary. Still, there were many questions about how well this plan might work. So, we set a three-month deadline for the “experiment” of moving our fellowship time into the sanctuary.

Just over a month into the experiment, however, there were discussions among several key families and the most influential member of what was then called The Glenburn Church Women’s Circle informed me that the experiment was over. The benefits of providing simpler refreshments, keeping visitors captive, and having more hands available for clean-up were simply too great. We would never, she said, convince the women of the church to go back to having fellowship time in the schoolhouse.

Repenting of an Experiment

Few failed experiments can really be called mistakes. Certainly, not all mistakes are a result of sin. It is even more rare that the mistakes are sin in themselves. Much of “the way we’ve always done it before” may still work well. But new opportunities, at least, may require some experimentation in finding “the way we’ll always do it from now on.” My point here is this: if we had not been prepared to repent of that decision, sinless though it was, we would never have been able to implement the experiment.

Honoring our heritage is a noble virtue. Equally important, however, is an honest look at our history. Once upon a time, there was no pattern of ministry. There were no events or practices listed in the big book of “the way we’ve always done it before.” What made some of those ministries so memorable, and so entrenched, is how well they worked in accomplishing God’s purposes among those people at that time. And what is most fondly remembered by those who were there is not the protocols and policies. They speak with great joy about what it meant to face a challenge, and eventually find a way to address it, through a process—most often—of experimentation to see what might work “then and there,” when that was “here and now.”

So, what experimental solutions might we find today? That is an exciting question. The fearful and paralyzing answer, though, is “it might not work.” That is true. But if it does not work, we will repent of it. And we will try again until we find what does work—just as soon as we repent of not trying.

An Invitation Not to Be in Church This Sunday: Reflections on Thom Rainer’s “I Am Not in Church.”

Looking at church.

A heart-felt piece of writing on Thom Rainer’s website really struck me on this particular Monday morning, especially after a Sunday on which my focus was pulled in so many directions. (You can read his post at http://thomrainer.com/2016/05/i-am-not-in-church/.)

I know there were people "at church" yesterday who I wanted to be sure felt welcomed, valued, comforted, encouraged, etc. (By the way, that applies to everyone who was there, as well as quite a few who weren't.) But I also know that when we most need to feel welcomed, we may not be at our most welcoming. When we most need to be comforted, we may not be very comforting. When we are in need of encouragement, it's harder to find the ways to encourage others.

Going to church.

If I come seeking for what others can provide to me, and even if I come hoping to provide something to others, then I am looking for something other than church. The idea of coming "to church," being "at church," and certainly "doing church" all destine us to disappointment. Granted, there are places where people gather and engage in worship, fellowship, discipleship, and service. And I highly recommend doing so. Yet there is a purpose to doing so that is often obscured not only by the location and activity, but more so by our attitudes and expectations.

Being in church.

The idea of "being church" together means that we are not an unlimited reservoir of blessings to be tapped by one, some, or a small handful of folks who may have some need or other on any particular Sunday morning. Some come afflicted with a hunger and thirst for meaning and fulfillment, or even food and water. Others have found great meaning and fulfillment, but in ministries that routinely empty us. If each of us, at one time or another, are coming to be filled, then who can we consistently depend upon? Who will always be available to pour themselves out into us?

Getting behind the church.

We need to remember that the unlimited reservoir that we seek to tap into together can only be Christ Himself. And in doing so, perhaps we might join together in setting an example for others, too, who imagine that the church is something you can somehow be "in" instead of being "of."

So, if you're waiting for an invitation? I hope Christians invite you. We're supposed to. It's part of the mandate Jesus gave us--reach out, love, invite, congregate. But if we invite you "to" church, then it's not church that you're likely to find. If we invite you to sit "in" church with us, then it's not church that you'll probably be attending. If you're invited, you should accept only if you recognize that we are desperate sinners whose hearts, however redeemed and sanctified they may be, are still prone to selfish idolatries. You should accept the invitation from those who come together to console one another at least as much as to celebrate and commend Christ with one another. You should not be misled into thinking that Christianity can be a spectator sport, a self-help seminar, or even a source of sustenance to our souls. If Christ alone is the way, the truth, and the life we offer, then all the invitation we can extend to you is this: come to Him, and be church with us.

Missing Curfew: Contemplating Bounds’ Emphasis on Long Seasons of Concentrated Prayer

I used to stay up late for conversation. Sometimes it was the doorways of our dorm rooms when our minds were still processing the new information supplied, the old perceptions challenged, and persistent habits overwhelmed by looming deadlines. With some, though, it was not an excess of ideas, but an unwillingness to close the conversation, so as to remain in her company, yet not allow the silence to lead to communications of the nonverbal nature. So, whether with classmates and colleagues, or with more romantic interests, the time spent with those closes was always longest.

More than three decades into marriage, our time together is still substantial. Some of the longer than average conversations are a function of locating our lives in the rural mountain valleys where essential services are separated by long distances. So, are we closer because we have longer to spend with each other? No. We are closer. But those hours each week in the car together do not approach the depth of conversation that occurs elsewhere, and at other times. We lose track of the topic amidst the interruptions of traffic, wildlife, construction, and other distractions. The hours together recounting the events of life, the observations of others’ behaviors, and so much other mundane minutiae—these do not replace the more intentional focus of other, purposeful conversations.

This comes to mind in reading E.M. Bounds’ chapter, “Much Time Should Be Given to Prayer.” I promote the discipline of engaging in an ongoing conversation with God throughout the day. I believe that is an important focus of any authentically Christian life. It would be rude, were we to truly believe God is ever-present (and I do believe that), to ignore His input or fail to include Him in the discussion. But when our conversation is interrupted, do I return to the topic we had been addressing? Rarely. Sometimes my mind continues on down its own path, oblivious to His presence and partnership. Then, I am left with the question: Is my sense of inspired problem-solving, decision-making, or scripture-obeying truly sources in my conversations with God, or have I followed other impulses, ascribing them to God’s influence even after I’ve stopped listening quite so carefully as I pretend I was during our ride throughout the day?

Only in the closet of uninterrupted, focused, intentional, and listening prayer can I be sure that my “brilliant solution” to a problem, or my “great idea” for improving my service to Christ and others, or my “excellent phrasing” for some paper or sermon actually represents what Jesus would have me do. Otherwise, I am at the mercy of my own misperceptions, the overestimation of my own wisdom, or even my own imaginative fantasies of what God would have said, if He were to parrot my own inner voice.

There are times and places where short prayers are indispensable. “Lord, help!” is as valid a request as ever arose from within Luther’s three-hour morning ritual. And the concept of conversational prayer, including the Lord in the events of the day He has given me, those momentary utterances, distracted as they may be, have no doubt been answered repeatedly in the words spoken, the actions taken, and the results and blessings recognized.

But as Bounds writes, “The short prevailing prayer cannot be prayed by one who has not prevailed with God in a mightier struggle of long continuance.” To illustrate, imagine that I telephone you, my voice breathless with anxiety, and make a request of such brevity and urgency that you find yourself looking down at the phone after I have hung up abruptly. The likelihood of you taking action on my appeal to you is directly proportional to our prior relationship. If you can say, “he would not ask if it were not of vital importance,” then you will likely reorder your priorities in that moment in order to accommodate my need. If, however, you and I are not so close, and our relationship inconsistent, then there are any number of responses you might consider…including the possibility of assisting me. But if you have responded to similar urgencies in the past, and I have not been so careful to follow up with an expression of gratitude, or even an explanation of the circumstances in which you had been so graciously helpful…then you might be less likely to respond positively in the future.

Thankfully, God is far more gracious than we humans could ever be. Still, for me to request of Him what it is that He is seeking to accomplish in any given circumstances, much less my ongoing life-story, then it stands to reason that deepening our relationship is definitely in my best interest. So, I know the benefits. I agree with Bounds, “much time should be given to prayer.” And I will continue to count on His immediate response to “Lord, help!” in the future. You would think that all this would prompt some declaration of my intent to set aside longer times of prayer more frequently. But I am convicted regarding my tendency to use clever phrasing to make me sound more holy than I am. So, instead of announcing my recommitment, I would ask you, should you have opportunity to greet me any time soon, to do so by asking a question. It is the question that Bounds quotes John Fletcher as using as his customary greeting: “Do I meet you praying?” The answer will, and would already be, “Yes. But not so much as I would like.” Still, I could use the reminder to continue expanding those singularly devoted times.

What Kind of Church Are You? Identifying the one unifying factor determining ministry success

There are many different kinds of churches. You probably know that I am a proponent for integrity in the Church, seeking reconciliation toward unity instead of the usual process of continuous fragmentation. Therefore, feel compelled to add that there are too many different kinds of churches. But we can have that discussion some other time. There is a more essential point I hope we can consider here.

But first, let me ask: what kind of church are you? Does that seem like a strange question? Let me explain for just a moment.

I recall it being Ron Frost (Ron is an educator with Barnabas International and one of our special presenters during doctoral studies at Multnomah Biblical Seminary.) who first suggested to me that individual Christians are just as much church as are any group of Christians congregating in any number of churches. We each represent the body of Christ, and are each responsible for responding as the body of Christ. We are also responsible to congregate together, so please do not mistake me for advocating some sort of isolated religious practice that could be accurately called “Christian.” But even as we consider the various kinds of churches, please understand that I am asking what kind of church you are.

Several Kinds of Church: Governing Structures

In order to accomplish the tasks of vision-setting, decision-making, and ministry operations, there are three primary structures churches employ. Where decisions are centralized in a hierarchy of individuals fulfilling these functions, it is called an episcopal structure. (Which is not necessary limited to the Episcopal Church, a name applied to some offshoots of the Anglican Church or The Church of England.) This term, from episkopos in the Greek, means that there is one key person responsible to over (epi) see (skopos) the life and ministry of a given congregation. Where groups of mature Christians serve this function together, the term used is presbyterian, from the Greek presbyteros, or “elder.” (Again, this applies to other denominations that those which use the word Presbyterian in their titles.) When the tasks of vision, decisions, and ministry are discussed and decided by all those who gather in a given local organization, that form of “church government” is referred to as congregational.

 

Many congregations and denominations employ some combination of these structures, with varying leaders or groups of leaders in specific areas of ministry. But one form or another usually dominates most of any particular church’s function.

Many More Kinds of Church: Ministry Emphasis & Personality

So, are there just three kinds of churches? No. In addition to a variety of governing structures, churches pursue differing characteristics as their primary mood, ministry purpose, or perceived personality. For example, in most communities there are churches that openly advertise themselves as being the simple church, or the easy church. There are exciting churches, happy churches, and friendly churches, and not only are there significant differences among them, it can be frustrating to discover only months into your attendance that what you thought was a friendly church is intolerant of anyone who fails to fit the happy-Christian mold.

It is not merely mood and personality that determines the character of a local church. Some Christians gravitate toward a dogmatically-exclusive church, while others seek out a tolerantly-inclusive church. Of course, either of these might also be a politically-active congregations but pursuing very different platforms.

Again, there are hybrids here, just as with governing structures. Among the congregants in any one place, you will find different reasons for choosing the same body to which they choose to belong. But the children’s ministry church, the youth group church, the singles’ studies church, and the senior citizens’ road-trip church tend to be more uniform in composition. Still, there can be a surprising range of ages, socio-economic levels, and other demographic categories found in community-service churches, theological debate churches. And all this may be irrelevant to those who define their Christian experience by the musical styles of their worship team. Those, of course, range from classically-trained flamboyance in hymn-accompaniment, through grunge-rock mystical mumblings, to what one astute observer referred to as her church’s version of “The Country Bear Jamboree.”

Two Key Categories of Church

No matter what governing structure is implemented, nor what emphasis or personality results, each ministry in every local congregation falls into one of two categories.

The first is more prevalent. Usually, whatever the governing structure may be, there are distinct decisions about what that gathering of Christians will do in order to serve the purposes they believe God has called them to fulfill. They then pursue any number of activities they believe are appropriate to the task, and they pray that God will bless their investments and fulfill their expectations with the appropriate results. The temptation to pursue specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and timed (SMART) objectives usually leads to counting “nickels and noses,” evaluating ministry-success in terms of “butts in the pew and bucks in the plate.”

Consider for a moment, though, that even if the way we keep score were to change, other aspects of that first category’s description might still require some revision. Several improvements may come to your mind. But the first and foremost among them is what, in keeping with E.M. Bounds’ chapter, “A Praying Ministry Successful,” points to the foundational perspective and essential activity of churches in the second category. This second category contrasts distinctly with churches whose leaders define their objectives of success, set goals along a path toward those objectives, make ministry-shaping decisions along the way, and pray for God to bless their efforts.

As Bounds writes, where the objectives of success is “holiness” as evidenced in “transfigured hearts and lives,” it is not in the board room, but in the prayer closets of a church’s leaders (whether one, some, or all members of the congregation are considered such). What brings about these results? It is that “their prayers entered into and shaped their characters; they so prayed as to affect their own lives and the lives of others; they so prayed as to make the history of the Church and influence the current of the times.”

Still Just One Kind of Christian

Three major forms of governing structure, unlimited and ever-growing types of personalities, and myriad minutiae of doctrine over which we divide from one another—there are so many ways to categorize the (too) many kinds of churches that you and I may choose to be. But what Jesus promises to the two or three gathered in His name, agreeing together in prayer, is still available today. For whatever other adjectives you think may properly modify “Christian” (usually a denominational or traditional identifier), would there be greater unity in the body and greater effectiveness in our ministry together if the main distinction could be that we are “Praying Christians?”

Perhaps, but I hope we would never call ourselves that. I object to so many other adjectives on the grounds that they serve primarily to define divisions among Christians. But I will critique this one for a completely different reason: redundancy. If we claim that being a Christian means having a relationship with God through Christ, and that where there is a relationship there must be conversation, then why would the idea that Christians are praying need to be emphasized. We are praying, or we are not Christians. So, why are we not praying together?

Villanova’s Buzzer-Beater: A Place for Fundamentals and Coaching in Preparing the Play-Maker

Marcus Paige...and the game is tied!

Villanova’s Buzzer-Beater

This past Monday night, in the NCAA Division I Men’s Basketball Championship, the University of North Carolina trailed 74-71 until their guard Marcus Paige seemed to hang in mid-air, between two Villanova players, and hit an improbable, off-balance, double-clutch three-pointer to tie the game at 74 points apiece with 4.7 seconds remaining. It looked for a moment like we would be treated to five minutes of free basketball. But then, Villanova’s Kris Jenkins inbounded the ball to Ryan Arcidiacono (ARCH-ee-dee-AH-cuh-no) who drove up the court, drew two UNC defenders, and dished the ball back to Jenkins. For many children too young to practice Christian Laettner’s top-of-the-key turnaround jumper, it will be Jenkins’ shot and celebration that they will emulate as their game-winner, too. And so, it could be said, Jenkins’ shot not only brought such memorable recognition to himself, but it brought the 2016 National Championship to Villanova University, head coach Jay Wright, and the rest of his entire team.

It could be said that way, but before examining that perspective a little more closely, let me ask you a few questions about your own aspirations. Have you ever fantasized about being in the right place at the right time, able to do the right thing in order to make a heroic difference? Maybe your imaginary moment of fame brings you to home plate in the bottom of the ninth, trailing by a run with two outs and one on base, when you crush the pitch, sending it soaring into the stands. It could be, instead, that you see yourself valiantly responding to cries for help, diving into a flooded stream to pull a child to safety. Perhaps your aim is nothing more than finding the gallantry necessary to step outside your comfort-zone, approach an obviously distraught friend, and be willing to hear their full, honest answer when you ask, “Would it help to talk about it?”

No, not that Christian's heroics. Other Christians' heroics!

Christian Heroics

Knowing as many Christians as I have over the past three decades, there is one particular fantasy I have heard repeatedly. We picture ourselves actually engaging in conversation with a close friend, family member, coworker, or classmate. They comment on our relationship with Jesus Christ, and as the conversation continues we are privileged to hear their gratifying question, “How then shall I be saved?” Fortunately for many, this remains a fantasy. I say “fortunately” because most would find themselves utterly unprepared, not knowing what to say if that moment were to arise. (If you think you’re not one of those unprepared to answer your friend’s request to meet Jesus, then simply take the next few minutes to explain the gospel out loud. Okay? So, how did you do? Clear, concise, and compelling? Or complicated, confused, and incomplete?) Therefore, many Christians never need worry about answering such questions, because just having that conversation is too unlikely.

What if our heroic make-believe moment, though, required something less than a gospel presentation? What if the situation in which you see yourself allowed you to remain silent, to not even engage in conversation about something so “personal and private” as your own relationship with Jesus Christ? What if that moment in which you envision yourself rising to the occasion involved nothing more than simply saying no to temptation, and avoiding your favorite sin…just once? What if your ambitions only scale the heights of self-discipline so far as to actually leave the comfort of your bed, get showered and dressed, grab your Bible, and make it to church this Sunday? Does the bar still need lowered? Are you still only dreaming of one day picking up that Bible, opening it to a favorite passage, and praying about what the Holy Spirit says to you through God’s word?

Kris Jenkins - with the ball Arcidiacono just
passed him, during the play that
Jay Wright designed...etc.

Opportunity Meets Preparation

During the post-game interviews with victorious Villanova’s players this past Monday night, one reporter admitted their confusion about those final 4.7 seconds. There was a sense, according to the reporter, in which the game-winning shot was a result of a set play, orchestrated to produce the result it did. But there were also parts of what Jenkins and Arcidiacono had described that made it sound as though they were improvising on the spot. The two young men gave a reasonable-enough explanation, but not so much so that it prevented coach Jay Wright from being asked the same question just minutes later. In just a few brief sentences, Wright explained clearly and concisely what every coach seeks to do for his players (and what I believe many pastors seek to do for those they serve).

I remember there being three levels to Wright’s answer about that final shot. First, he explained that there were actually three end-of-game plays that his team had prepared. There was a play to run if there were more than twelve seconds left, another to run if there were between five and twelve seconds, and a third to run if there were less than five seconds. Therefore, the five young men on the court had only to look at the clock (4.7 seconds) to know which play they were going to run. The second part of Coach Wright’s answer, though, addressed the very point where the reporter had earlier found some confusion. In running the “under-five-second” play, it was still necessary to discern what the opposing team’s players were doing (double-teaming Arcidiacono, as it happened), and then make a decision about who would be open and available to take the final shot of the game. Jenkins, running to the right and doing so fast enough to get into Arcidiacono’s peripheral vision, was then tasked with the third element—making the shot—in what turned out to be a successful end to the game, the tournament, the season, and Jenkins’ career as a Villanova Wildcat.

More Than Meets the Eye

As above, then, “it could be said” that what CBS will forever label as one of their “One Shining Moment” moments, put Jenkins’ shot in an forever-unfading spotlight. Too, that shot, “it could be said,” brought Villanova their first National Championship since 1985, brought head coach Jay Wright to greater prominence (and potential job-changes), and so much more. But before we ascribe all that to the game’s final eight-tenths of one second (as the ball traveled to and through the basket) there needs to be a more careful, if concise, exploration of that “moment.”

Villanova Head Coach Jay Wright

Jenkins’ shot resulted from Arcidiacono’s decision. Arcidiacono’s decision was enabled by Wright’s play. Wright’s play was determined by the Wildcats’ circumstance. That circumstance had been rehearsed and the play had been practiced, and Jenkins’ preparation had included many such shots alone with a ball and a hoop throughout his young life. So, when the ball ended up in Jenkins’ hands Monday night, yes—the spotlight was, indeed, on him. But the endless drills, the foundational fundamentals, and the routine repetition of what to do when the opportunity presented itself, these elements on the part of a dozen young men, a coaching staff, an athletic department, a university, an athletic association, and a culture that values and supports the pursuit of excellence in sports, and probably dozens of other ingredients went into what many will remember as being the singular action of one individual player in that one shining moment.

The Opportunities Awaiting You

For every child who drives toward the hoop in their driveway, or sets their feet at the playground foul-line, or looks around to be sure they’re alone in the gym before saying to themselves, “to Jenkins…for the championship!” may there be at least one more of us who imagine ourselves heroically asking, answering, and acting on the question, “What would Jesus have me do today?” But let us also commit to fulfilling our own one-shining-moment, and passionately pursue the endless drills of the foundational fundamentals. May we remember that what may seem like only a routine repetition of the spiritual disciplines of scripture study, worship and prayer, fellowship and service, and the other habits of holiness, is the indispensable prerequisite to even being on the court during those critical moments. 

E.M. Bounds’ Seven Elements of Preaching from a Place of ‘True Praying’

There are a handful of moments over the past three decades of ministry when I remember being nearly paralyzed by the immense responsibility that accompanies the divine calling to preach the word of God. It is rarely simple, never easy, though occasionally exciting…like a train-wreck. Those overwhelming times sometimes result from the challenging subject matter of the passage at hand. Sometimes, I have felt myself engulfed by emotion because of the circumstances into which God’s word must be spoken. And more frequently I am amazed in contemplating the great privilege granted me by a congregation committed to enabling sufficient study, composition, and polishing for the messages they gather to hear.

I hope that one element is conspicuous by its absence. Study, composition, and polishing come easily to those blessed with a great deal of education, bountiful budgets of both time and money to constantly consume book after book, and the additional benefit of being engaged in dialogue with a diverse breadth of individuals of great spiritual depth. With all that, however, comes also the temptation to believe that I have something to say. I do, of course. But not in preaching. In preaching, my responsibility is to overcome the temptation to say any something, except to deliver that which is God’s message, in that holy moment He has appointed, for the edification of those He has gathered, that they may be the agency of His will on earth, just as it is in heaven. As important as preaching is, and important as careful study, composition, and polishing may be, there is one essential that should inform, influence, and inspire every word of every sermon. But because, as E.M. Bounds writes, “Preachers are human folks, and are exposed to and often caught by the strong driftings of human currents,” I find that I need a constant reminder of the necessity of the fullest possible approach to preaching through prayer.

Toward reminding myself of the richness of prayer that provides the foundation and fulfillment of preaching’s promise, I find Bounds’ seven elements of “true praying” to be a worthy contemplation.

1.       Vital Oneness with Christ – As communicators of the gospel, we are not merely commentators on the events and content of Jesus’ life from twenty centuries ago. If we are not continuously participating by allowing His ministry to take place in and through our lives, then we are preaching across a divide of insurmountable distance to those who have little or no hope of emulating what we present as an intellectual exercise instead of a living, breathing, active and living (thus Bounds’ use of the term “vital”) life of faith.

2.       Fullness of the Holy Ghost – Jesus told us that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. If we are merely to speak about God, then we may do so out of the abundance of our minds, the volumes of our libraries, or the class notes from our Bible college or seminary. If, however, we intend to speak God, to speak the way, the truth, and the life, to give voice to the living presence of the Almighty Creator of all that ever will have existed, then we must be filled to overflowing with God Himself in the person of the Holy Spirit.

3.       Deep, Overflowing Fountains of Tender Compassion – In the next point, Bounds addresses our focus on eternal life for those we serve. But here, lest we overlook the circumstances of their lives, becoming “so heavenly minded that we’re no earthly good,” it is essential that we not only know how others are living, but that we materially live as they do. The ivory pedestals of our isolated studies may be momentarily necessary to the study, composition, and polishing of our messages, but the lives into which we speak are “out there” where the dialogue is occurring for many more hours than we will ever preach. The phrase that has helped me most in making the time available for actively engaging in the daily lives of our community comes from Andrew Blackwood’s Pastoral Leadership (Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1949). I remember it as, “Pastoral visitation is sermon preparation.”

4.       Deathless Solicitude for Man’s Eternal Good – No matter how gratifying it is to see God’s resources brought to bear through our lives into the needs of those we are called to serve, the message we deliver is not merely incomplete but entirely heretical if it does not emphasize God’s eternal love, Christ’s eternal purpose, and the Holy Spirit’s eternal efforts to bring new, abundant, and eternal life into its fullest possible expression in every life He allows us to touch.

5.       Consuming Zeal for the Glory of God – Even in the previous two categories, it is possible to diminish God to being the cache of resources, or even the means to salvation. That Jesus is Lord and Master, and Sovereign King does not negate His character as the Friend of sinners, the Intercessor affirming the effectiveness of His blood in reconciling us to God, or any other aspect we may occasionally neglect in favor of others. The richness of both the breadth and depth of God’s attributes, character, will, and action deserve careful review to ensure that our preaching does not drift onto a few favorite perspectives at the expense of presenting the wholeness of His holiness.

6.       A Thorough Conviction of the Preacher’s Difficult and Delicate Work – I have discussed this above, but here I would add the confession that I have, too frequently, looked upon a sermon text as offering me an “easier” preparation due to my familiarity with the particular passage. I have learned, however, to reject this seductive enticement to my laziness. In truth, the more familiar a passage is, the more difficult it usually proves to think through how it applies to the congregation who will gather to hear it. Worse, far greater effort is actually required. It can be a struggle to determine what the passage does say, when I am already certain that I know what it has said to me previously. And then, the cold, hard light of truth, once seen, needs to be focused and filtered into fractional portions, set in an accessible order, so that the truth that so resonates in my heart will do the same for others on Sunday morning.

7.       The Imperative Need of God’s Mightiest Help – All of the above matters combine to motivate an inevitable decision. There are more than two options, but many preachers find themselves at some point in their ministry with the strong sense of being caught between only the Rock and the hard place. The hard place may be the personalities and preferences of a particular parish. Some may face a crisis of personal health, relationships, or finances. But often the hard place is deep within the preacher who faces the growing perception that an ever-closer relationship with the Rock reveals the terrible distance between what the preacher is and does, and what any disciple of Jesus Christ comes to realize: there is so much we can never be, so much we can never do. The weight of that realization can threaten to crush us. The attractive alternative to that brokenness is to walk away from the role and its responsibilities. But there is a third option. I happen to believe it cannot be accessed without the brokenness. Some would disagree, and perhaps they have found some other means to the same end. But the strength to hold up under the pressures of preaching is to accept what Bounds calls “the imperative need of God’s mightiest help” that is available only when, I believe, our strength has crumbled to dust and been swept out of the way.

Of course, this seventh element brings us full circle in Bounds’ list. God’s mightiest help is only available when we have nothing else to bring to the task at hand than our vital oneness with Christ. Are there still simpler, easier, more exciting options available to today’s preachers? Yes. And it would appear that simpler, easier, and more exciting preaching is more attractive to greater numbers. So, why pursue this prayer-drenched preaching that Bounds describes as being “a conspicuous and an all-impregnating force?” There is no reason at all, unless we choose to believe as Bounds does: “To (those) who think think praying their main business and devote time to it according to this high estimate of its importance does God commit the keys of his kingdom, and by them does he work his spiritual wonders in this world.”

When I look at the crowds that are being drawn, and especially when I hear the criticisms from among the simpler, easier, and more exciting options, so far, I do still hear the words of Jesus: “What about you? Do you want to go there, too?” It is only by committing to consistently “conspicuous” prayer that my answer remains, “Where else am I supposed to go? Only You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:66-71) And as their preacher, I refuse to believe that those to whom I am called to serve on Christ’s behalf should deserve anything else, which would make the message something less than the whole counsel of God’s word.

“You Can’t Always Get What You Want, but If You Try Sometimes…” – Part Two: Some Thoughts on the Assets and Liabilities of Small-Church Spirituality (Part One Examined the Parallel Issues in Small-Town Medicine)

In part one, we explored some of the issues affecting the quality and availability of healthcare in low density population areas like the Intermountain Area of northern California. These include the following: (1) An inattention to detail that can result in patients receiving less than, other than, or simply none of the care they require to be restored to physical health. (2) The attraction of lower-priced alternatives to shopping locally for pharmacy services, leaving communities without the availability of occasionally necessary medications like antibiotics and other temporary symptom-relief measures. (3) The tendency of healthcare staff members to see patients more as a commodity that provides employees with job security, rather than being at least paying customers with distinct needs for quality service. (4) An amazing dedication displayed by individuals within the system whose thoughtfulness, creativity, persistence, and awareness of the human personhood of their patients manages to bring about the right results in the midst of an untrustworthy, and sometimes dangerously dysfunctional system.

As I suggested earlier, each of these traits finds a parallel in small-church spirituality, and I find a strong correlation to both the assets and liabilities they represent. Here are some thoughts about that.

The Lone-Ranger’s Ministry: Small-Church Spirituality and an Insufficient Focus

I am not the only solo pastor who sees the irony in being asked to devote twenty percent of our time to each of the six to ten elements of our position descriptions. Neither am I alone in feeling very alone when just one or two of the elements require our attention for a majority of the 168 hours we are allotted in a given week. The frequent result that costs us what little of that schedule would otherwise allow restful sleep is this: in our best-managed weeks, there are far many more details in need of attention than there is attention available to devote to them. Unless, of course, some of those essential details are effectively delegated. Ironically, it is by allowing others to participate in ministry responsibilities that provides greater growth and health in the body of Christ. (Ephesians 4:11-16) But just as misfiled medical records can be deadly, local congregations, extended families, and individual human persons find their spiritual health declining for no other reason than they are missing certain basic elements necessary to barely sustaining, much less strengthening them.

One-Stop Shopping: Small-Church Spirituality and Mesmerizing Mega-Churches

For some, it is the occasional trek to a larger community and the larger churches to be found there. I cannot deny that there are several worship bands that perform far more professionally than any available in our remote rural area. The focus of a multi-staff church’s “teaching pastor” whose primary job description is to prepare and present sermons will almost always provide more polished preaching than the jack-of-all-trades general practitioner filling all pastoral roles in a small rural congregation. The economy of scale in larger religious organizations means that there are enough potential attendees to justify narrow, niche-marketed ministries to those with characteristics or affinities that guarantee that everyone else in their gatherings will be very much like them (and thus very likely to like them). But just as shopping elsewhere for routine medical services threatens to leave patients without the immediate and personalized care they will almost certainly require, a similar pattern befalls those in smaller churches and communities who find themselves in sudden need. Mega-Church pastors seldom make housecalls and hospital visits, even within the immediate neighborhood of their church’s location. Ministry to the bereaved, the substance-abuser, the traumatized, or even the recently engaged is most often requested of the pastors serving churches that are closest geographically, but who are not at all close relationally to those they have never seen in a Sunday morning pew. (And this viewpoint ignores entirely the impossibility of one-on-one ministry with pastors known only through their broadcast personality.)

Budding Beginners and Experienced Elders: Small-Church Spirituality and the Horrors of Hirelings

It is not, of course, only those in the pews (or not) whose habits are devastating to small churches. Those called to pastor in rural parishes, especially, tend to fall into two categories. First, chronologically speaking, are those with wet ink on their diplomas, degrees, licenses, or ordination papers. Denominations with insufficient multi-staff church positions for the newest, freshest, most inexperienced ministers use a variety of disparaging terms for both these pastors and the congregations they serve. Likewise, most of those younger pastors have heard not only the disparaging terms, but the pattern expected of them, if they are to survive long in the ranks of professional career pastors. But at the other end of the longevity spectrum, there are many pastors who have served for decades without retirement plans, sufficient wages to build-up savings accounts, or even the equity of home ownership as they have moved from parsonage to parsonage, or been consigned to a rotations of rentals by their lack of employment stability. Those well beyond retirement age can sometimes rely on their wisdom and experience to make up for a lack of energy, or a perceived lack of relevance to “today’s young families.” But both the “whippersnappers and fogeys” who fill many rural pulpits share one critical characteristic that dooms their congregations to constant recycling through the pastoral-search process. The shared trait is this: they will be moving on soon. Those in their first pastorate will soon be lured away to the next rung on the corporate career ladder. Those with decades of experience will soon be called home to Jesus, or at least away from effective ministry by some combination of infirmity, illness, or injury. In either case, and too many others in between, the focus is not on serving the congregation and community, but on the ongoing development of the minister, the growing needs of their family, the enticements of the next available opportunities, or their desire to comfortably finish their final chapter.

Exceptions to the Rule: Small-Church Spirituality and the Idealism of Interconnected Individuals

In part one, we celebrated individuals within the healthcare system who looked beyond their official job descriptions, their personal inconvenience, and “reasonably competent service” in order to focus on the needs of patients. Here, I want to acknowledge that my preference for small-church spirituality is based on similar observations. Where there are not seminary-trained specialists in narrow fields of ministry to specifically-segregated groups of consumers, there is a greater reliance on other resources. Among these, the Holy Spirit is most trustworthy. But a broader scripture knowledge is also in evidence, and quite helpful among those seeking what Jesus would have them to do…when there is not a staff member already assigned to the responsibilities in that area. Third, beyond the work of the Holy Spirit and the trustworthiness of scripture, there is the interrelated workings of members within the body of Christ that is necessitated by the utter lack of paid professionals on-scene in most circumstances. Last in this list, for several reasons, but still of great importance to the health and strength of small churches, especially in remote, rural, low density population areas, is the willingness of committed shepherds to stand firm and stay put, doing whatever is necessary to overcome the dangers and damage that accrues from the horrible rotation of hirelings that has destroyed not only individual congregations (the list of extinct churches in our area continues to grow) but devastated the testimony of the gospel.

So, to those members of the body of Christ who choose to attend, participate, and serve in the local communities to which God has called them, and to those pastors who resist the temptations to build careers rather than congregations: May God bless you by allowing you to see an effective fellowship in which every good thing in each of us is shared fully with all of us. (Philemon 6)