UnChurch

I just finished the book UnChristian, following Pagan Christianity a few months ago, and I wonder, can church as I know it ever reach the Busters and Mosaics?

What would that church have to look like? What would be core values?

To battle the perception of the church as antihomosexual a core value would have to be not accepting or rejecting a person due to their sexual orientation. The church would have to be a community that opens it's arms to everyone, understanding that we are all in different places in our faith journey, and providing opportunities for everyone to use their gifts in loving obedience to God.

To battle the perception that the church is judgemental a core value would have to be the ability to accept everyone, working to develop vibrant personal relationships between all of its' members. It's ministries would have to be intentionally multi-generational, fostering relationships between all ages, races, and genders.

To battle the perception that the church is hypocritical a core value would have to be honesty and integrity, modeled in leadership, reinforced in teaching, and expected of everyone. Members would have to be willing to hold themselves accountable to each other.

It would have to be unlike any church I've been to, willing to lay down what it has always seen as "church" in the interest of reaching those for whom Church is a dirty word.

I wonder what it would look like. Would there be sermons, homilies, teaching times, shared teaching? Would there be sacraments, and if so, which and how? Singing? Band? Internet, videos, powerpoint? Where would it meet, a home, a public building, a coffee shop, a sanctuary?

The challenge is huge and somwhate frightening and exciting and stimulating, the goal to create an UnChurch to battle the UnChristian label. And yet if what Kinnaman and Lyons have learned is true, do we truly have a choice?

The Great Weaver

On a recent vacation to Texas I witnessed another one of those times when God weaves things together. On Sunday morning we traveled to the Crestwood Baptist Church in Beaumont, Texas. We had stayed at this church the last two years when we had come down for mission trips and my friend's cousin is married to the Pastor so we have some connections. It was wonderful to walk into a church you hadn't been to in a year and feel the welcome of people you knew or recognized.

We had gotten there early so we walked the grounds. Last year the new sanctuary hadn't been completed but now it was so we took a look inside. Actually it's not the sanctuary; that's a later part of the building plan. It was called the worship center. Just before we entered I noticed a newly-planted tree and a memorial that read "In Memory of Caroline". It seemed out of place; the church did not maintain a graveyard and I had never noticed anything like this in our previous visits.

That morning a middle-aged guy got up during worship to speak. He began to tell the story of his daughter, who had died of cancer exactly one year earlier. I recognized him because he had given us directions into Houston the year before to visit with our niece who was at M.D Anderson fighting leukemia. Our niece had passed away in the fall. His daughter had passed away shortly after we had gone back home the previous year. His daughters name was Caroline.

I'm not too quick on the uptake sometimes but I put two and two together. I listened, bawling, as he expressed the pain of losing her yet the joy of knowing she was in heaven, healed. I didn't realize it at the time but we were sitting in the row ahead of his family and his remaining three kids struggled hard as their dad spoke. He wasn't an eloquent speaker; his speech was down-to-earth but powerful. His theology may not have been exact but his ability to show hope in the midst of tragedy spoke volumes.

I felt something break loose and begin to heal in me that morning, a pain that had been there since Jessica had passed away. He spoke the very questions we had asked; why, God? Why didn't you heal her? Why did she have to suffer? Why her of all people? What did she do, what did we do, to deserve this? As he spoke he put the words in my heart and mind.

There was not a dry eye in the house when he finished. Rather than following him up with a sermon Brother Larry simply offered an altar call, then played the piano as he led us in singing "God Will Make a Way" and "This is the Air I Breathe".

As we left the service I realized how the Great Weaver had been at work that morning. Through that simple connection of getting directions the year before I was able to open my heart and mind to the beginning of emotional healing in Christ. Through a Pastor who barely knows who I am, who sees me most likely as my friends friend and would be hard-pressed to remember my name, the Holy Spirit began the work of understanding hope.

Thank you God, for the threads you weave in each of our lives.

Cross-generational ministry and loving it.

Met with our small group, Genia, tonight. We used a Nooma study from Rob Bell and spent some time talking about the need to get unstuck and become the people God has called us to be, to experience all of the blessings he has to offer.

This group is truly unique. We intentionally brought together a group of people from different age ranges and in different stages in their life. Some are young children and pre-teens, some teens, the majority young adults, then some of us older folk.

It's challenging to meet the demands of all of these different people. Yet they are committed to each other. Friendships are growing within the group, friendships that weren't there before. We lean on each other when we are in trouble and laugh with each other in good times.

It's extremly difficult to find study material for this type of group. We use a lot of videos, interspersed with some "typical" studies, to try to reach everyone at some point. Visual is definitely the best learning medium; it transcends the age gaps and causes everyone to focus together. With all of the kids focus can be an issue.

I truly love these people. It's my hope and prayer that they will all continue to grow in love for God and for each other, that they will learn to unselfishly serve others, and that they never forget that life should be fun.

It's up to God. They're Yours.

Rythmless

I stand in church, the music is powerful, my arms are lifting up and my body is swaying and I want to (can I say it) dance! But there's two problems here.

First, I am rythmless. That's right, this guy who can sight-read almost anything and who sings all the time can't keep rythm. When I sang in church they would hand out instruments to everyone, handbells and triangles and tambourines. Everyone in the group got one except me, for I have no rythm. This is not a guess, this is born of years of factual evidence, beginning back in the disco era. Sure, I looked good in a tan leisure suit, but I couldn't dance a lick. I can't dance I can't dance I can't dance...

Second, I was raised in a church that didn't let you dance, and definitely absolutely never in a church service. Do you know why? Because dancing leads to sex! Everyone knows that all the slutty girls started off on the dance floor. Just look at those moves, tell me that isn't simulating something! No dancing, little hand lifting, and occasional clap. Mainly organ music anyways; tough to dance to the way it was played.

And yet I want to dance in church. I want to spin and twirl, I want to lift up my hands and give up my inhibitions and just dance before Him. I want to strip myself of all the delusions of grandeur and in pure joy dance before the Lord, just like David did, just like the greatest king ever.

I'm so close. One of these Sunday mornings...I can dance.