:: in.a.mirror.dimly ::

My father-in-law wisely pointed to an article about a denomination’s new outreach campaign. While the campaign mentioned preaching the Gospel, the motivation behind the campaign struck him as odd: attracting new members to the denomination’s sagging membership rolls.

In other words, these churches needed new members, and as a bonus they could have Jesus.

This trend of turning Jesus into the bonus that comes with church membership is easy to slip into. I know that I want more people in my community to know Jesus, but I have often slipped into wishing for more people at church services. Growth is the mark of health in our economy, just listen to the news for a few minutes, and membership growth has become the goal for many churches.

We’ve all done it at some point.

More bodies equals health. If we’re losing people, then our churches are in danger of shutting down, and we need to figure out a way to get them back.

If you stop to reread that sentence, I hope you’ll notice that Jesus is missing from it. We’re not calling people back to Jesus; we’re calling them back to church. Some may say that Jesus is implied in this, but I think it should be the other way around: by calling people back to Jesus we are also calling them back to Christian community.

Brett McKracken’s post in the Wall Street Journal illustrates this quest for church survival. Citing a 2007 Lifeway poll, McKracken states, “70% of young Protestant adults between 18-22 stop attending church regularly.” I’ll share a note at the end about these numbers, but for the time being, let’s focus on how McKracken addresses this alleged problem.

He says we want to keep people “In the Church” so we need to, “figure out a plan to keep young members engaged in the life of the church.” There is a fine difference, but I think it’s an important one when we say that we are called to make disciples. The disciple-making happens in community, but we don’t make disciples to keep our numbers up.

He’s right to critique this: “Increasingly, the ‘plan’ has taken the form of a total image overhaul, where efforts are made to rebrand Christianity as hip, countercultural, relevant.” However, some of this rises out of someone’s cultural location, and not a desire to simply be hip. There’s a world of a difference between a church-plant in a thriving artistic community using art in its service and McKracken’s example of “looking cool, perhaps by giving the pastor a metrosexual makeover, with skinny jeans and an $80 haircut, or by insisting on trendy eco-friendly paper and Helvetica-only fonts on all printed materials.”

I agree with McKracken’s point: we can get lost in trying to be hip or relevant, but to a certain degree churches need to be who they are where they are at. Not every church that meets in a bar is pulling off a hipster stunt. Many are sincerely trying to reach people where they’re at.

McKracken brings a valid critique to gimmicks and consumer marketing strategies that have infected the church, but his motivation for this is still flawed, “Are these gimmicks really going to bring young people back to church?”

My point of contention with McKracken is subtle, but critical for our understanding of the Gospel. Churches can come and go. The survival of a church is not a reason to share the Gospel.

I love my church, but I’m not called to share the Gospel in order to get more people to attend. If the goal is the survival of my church, then I can become desperate, resorting to the hipster gimmicks that McKracken rightly lambasts. I’m no longer motivated by the love of God and the call to discipleship. I’m motivated by the call to membership.

I understand that church attendance serves as a helpful mark of how we’re doing. To that end, a church that’s losing members should certainly take note of that trend. It could be a symptom of something gone awry.

McKracken wants to point Christians toward a more authentic way of following Jesus rather than relying on marketing and clever tricks. I appreciate that. I think we could do much better at reaching our communities by serving them in a hands-on way rather than trying to lure them into church.

Nevertheless, trying to get people back into church pews misses the point. It’s a subtle mistake, but it’s important. I agree with McKracken that we want to make disciples and not just another Jesus brand, but the solution is not getting people back to church for the right reasons.

We do want people in Christian community, but we want them to come because they are learning to pray to Jesus, to serve others, and to love. Our job is not done when the pews/chairs are full. Our job is done when we have made disciples who count the cost and imitate Christ. That is a much more difficult job because it’s hard to measure, and impossible to do without the work of the Holy Spirit. In fact, we may draw some back to Jesus and not to our churches.

If someone is drawn to our church because they see us serving Jesus but fail to become disciples and servants themselves, then they aren’t doing much more than those who stay home and watch cartoons.

About the 2007 Lifeway Poll

Read the rest of this entry »

During my senior seminar in biblical studies I gave a presentation on Matthew 12, and addressed the sin known as blaspheming the Holy Spirit. I had a pretty good guess at what it meant, but I wasn’t certain.

I explained the passage based on my best understanding of the context and the commentaries, and almost everyone seemed satisfied except for one student. She sat in the back row and kept saying that I hadn’t said enough, that I wasn’t clear, or that I hadn’t interpreted the passage correctly.

I can’t remember the exact substance of her comments, but no matter what I said in reply, it wasn’t good enough. She kept pressing her point, and I started to feel attacked. Standing in front of my peers, I’d taken a solid whack at a difficult passage that didn’t have a scholarly consensus.

Give it a rest!

Though I was pretty confident in my answers to her questions, digging in to slug it out wouldn’t do either of us much good. Instead, I briefly explained the interpretive options one last time, summed up why I liked one of them best, and sat down.

After class a friend said she appreciated my approach to this passage. I didn’t belittle other perspectives. I didn’t attack the other student who challenged me. My friend said she now had a clear idea of what the passage could mean and that I’d helped her sort through it all by sharing everything I’d learned.

That conversation was a life-changing moment. Truth-be-told, I was quite flustered after the presentation. However, my friend taught me that having the right information wasn’t enough. I needed to remain humble, offering what I’d learned to others without becoming combative. By backing down instead of defending myself as the know-it-all authority, I’d created an environment where others could learn and think for themselves.

A writing ministry should aim to address the main concerns of readers and to raise awareness of important topics that may not be noticed, but the tone and attitude of a writer can make all of the difference in the world when it comes to ministering to others.

If we want to bring insight and clarity, humility and cooperation will serve us well in our writing ministries.

While I approach my writing as a ministry, I need to keep in mind that writing does not equal action. An opinion on a matter does not automatically lead to its resolution. We need to think and to form opinions, but if I stop there, I run the risk of doing nothing, if not becoming a hypocrite.

Writing is not an end in and of itself, even if it is a ministry. A good writing ministry should help people see the world differently, take action, and understand God and one another better. 

I know that many of us want to change things in the world such as ending the modern slave trade, telling the Good News of Jesus, bringing justice to our communities, waging peace, and healing those who are wounded. Writing is a part of that process. If we accept the status quo uncritically, we have a huge problem.

We could become like the people in Fahrenheit 451 who watch TV, believe everything they see, and become passive receivers. Writing is for those of us who want to take responsibility for our relationships with God, one another, and our neighbors.

However, writing in and of itself is not the solution. Writing is not the action that will help us move closer to God or become a redemptive influence in our communities. Writing as a ministry is a catalyst that helps us take the first step.

Next week I’ll look at writing as a ministry. Many Christians have blogs where they hope to share their own stories of faith, reflections on scripture, and responses to current events.

However, in my opinion, writing about Christianity does not automatically qualify as a ministry. What are the marks of writing that is also a ministry?

Starting on Monday, I’ll examine some pitfalls in writing, especially online writing, as a ministry, and then move on to some goals worth pursuing. I hope to provide some warning signs against common writing pitfalls and encouragement to continue writing material that is encouraging and beneficial for fellow believers.

In fact, if we are not bringing benefits to others, then we need to think about why we are writing and what we are writing. See you on Monday!

And if you’re interested in learning a little more about the publishing end of writing, I have published the first three chapters of my book, A Path to Publishing: What I Learned by Publishing a Nonfiction Book, at the Scribd web site. You can also find other chapters and resources at www.pathtopublishing.com.

I am a computer addict who bows down before the square, glowing screen of my lap top. It’s my portal into creativity, friendships, and information. Sometimes it’s hard to step away from it, to remove its life by powering it down, and to clamp it shut.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Noticing my addiction had grown worse with my attempt to make a go of full time freelance writing, I took action during Lent. While I couldn’t completely cut myself off from the computer, I developed an action plan.

6 PM and Sunday Cut Off

At 6 PM each night I shut down my computer and closed the screen. I even put a book or some papers on top of it so I wouldn’t have to look at it. Laugh at me if you must, but I know some of you can relate. On Sundays I left the computer closed  up, not even touching it.

It was freeing at first, but toward the last week of Lent I had a few projects running that demanded some immediate attention in order to meet deadlines. Since my main goal was to avoid mindlessly flipping through blogs and social media sites, I gave myself a few passes to send crucial e-mails and to visit some work-related sites.

Overall, I realized that while I’m driven to work hard and don’t mind long hours, I tend to work myself into the ground and to burn out while frittering my time away on social media. Setting aside a few hours in the evening as a safe zone helped me stay up on dishes, laundry, and other household stuff while also making me more available to hang out with my wife when she wasn’t working on a paper for grad school. I even had some time to read a book or magazine for leisure.

Imagine that!

In addition, I never missed anything all that important be limiting my time online. That’s still a tough one to believe despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Worship in the Morning

The other part of my Lent that is still a work in progress was my morning worship time. This involved sitting to journal some thoughts and listening to some worship music for about 20 minutes. I often did something else while listening to the music. On the days I forgot to take this time, I noticed a huge different in my attitude and in my overall approach to my day.

It is wonderful to sit, to wait for God to come, and to spend time in his presence. When I rush into my day without that, things can go downhill quickly. Jesus described himself as a vine that we are connected to as branches. We don’t stay connected by  saying a prayer once. Remaining in Jesus is a daily practice.

What’s Next…

I’ll keep working on the morning worship time. I’m not calling it devotions because my time in scripture is separate from this. I need time to be reoriented by scripture, but I also need time to sit, listen, and praise him. I’m going to generally adhere to the 6 PM and Sunday cut off, but I’ll give myself more generous allowances if need be.

In the process of working on this, I’ve discovered that I’m particularly obsessed with checking my e-mail. I think it took hold during my last dead-end job. I’d check my e-mail constantly because the interactions with people outside of my workplace helped preserve my sanity—reminding me that my dysfunctional employer was not the norm. Now that I’m freelancing full time I need to break the e-mail-checking habit.

Checking my e-mail has turned into a control and obsession problem in which I can’t stand the thought that an important e-mail could be waiting for me. Whether or not that e-mail is there, and it frequently isn’t, I need to let go of that control. I’m thinking of setting up 3-4 e-mail checking times throughout my day.

What did you give up for Lent?

What were benefits?

What’s next?

I’m going to keep working on taking

When trying to figure out what I should give up for Lent, I’ve decided to make a list of what I can’t live without and to pick one item from that list. However, this season I ran into an interesting twist.

I began to think of what I’m longing for—what I lack and desire but have not been able to find.

My list of things I can’t live without would include my computer, the internet, social media, coffee, nice pens, nice journals, etc. However, I realized that this Lent I needed to create some boundaries in order to cultivate space where certain things could happen that have not been happening lately.

I think my professional life has some decent boundaries in and of itself, but the problem is that my professional life has crept into my personal time. Since I’m working on writing and speaking full time, it’s very hard to know when to stop—and I rarely stop once evening comes.

My wife always looks at me in shock on the few occasions when I sit on the couch reading a book. That is not good.

I need to stop more. I need to create some boundaries from the internet and my work. I need sacred space.

While I admire those who are giving up social media tools such as Facebook and Twitter for Lent, my larger problem is when I fritter my time away on social media, blogs, and web stuff in the evening when I should relax, pray, read, or let a rabbit climb all over me. I don’t feel like these things invade my professional life too much, but they are a problem at home.

So this Lent I’m creating two boundaries.

The first is a space of roughly 20 minutes each day for worship. This means worship music, prayer, or whatever. Some of this needs to be time specifically set apart for worship without any other distractions, but I’m also planning to focus on playing worship music while working throughout the day.

The other is a 6 PM internet cut off time. After 6 PM I am not allowed online, save for the few occasions when I’ll have to check my e-mail for something important. Even then, I’ll only use my wife’s computer where I don’t have any social media or blog settings saved—and it’s frittering my time away on social media and blogs that I’m far more worried about.

It’s already been wonderful. I fought off the urge last night to go online, even if Lent hadn’t begun, and enjoyed reading and journaling for a few hours. One rabbit hopped onto my lap and furiously licked my jeans and the pillow next to me.

I have a feeling that Lent is going to be wonderful for my soul… and my rabbits.

The debate about the Tim Tebow commercial set to air during the Super Bowl has been completely off base if you ask me. Boo hoo, the Super Bowl has an advertisement for something that may be vaguely political instead of beer bottles with helmets, women being sexually harassed by men, and retro hippie commercials with new soda cans.

I think I’ll get over that.

The Tebow story is a very inspiring and good story. It’s a story that should be shared. I’m glad that Tebow and his mother are sharing it. However, the way it’s been done reveals something very troubling about the priorities of Christians, how we deal with problems in our society, and how Christians today think of allocating resources.

I’m not going to argue against abortion being a serious issue for us to deal with today. There are poor pregnant women who can’t afford to support a child and then there are wealthy women who don’t want to have a child, and we need to talk about real solutions that will help women who may feel like they don’t have many options at this time in their lives while saving the unborn. Yes, we should stop abortion.

Sadly, the Tim Tebow commercial reveals that Christians are making several key oversights when it comes to saving lives today.

Our Priorities

The Super Bowl commercial is generally aimed at affluent Americans, though perhaps some poor folks may be watching as well. However, by and large, if you figure out the demographics that most advertisers are aiming for, you can guess that the Tebow commercial aims to convince middle to upper middle class voters (those relatively well off) that they should not have abortions or support legislation that permits abortion.

Whether this is an intended oversight or not, the message is particularly striking at a time when charities such as World Vision are in an all-out struggle to save lives down in Haiti. In addition, by tossing so much money at a particular demographic, the poor are not made into the kind of priority spoken of in passages such as Luke 4:18-21 or Matthew 11:2-6. Success in the Kingdom of God is synonymous with declaring the Good News to and ministering among the poor.

Ministry in Society

This ad also shows that overall Christians have chosen to speak to our culture on a large platform in an impersonal and hands off manner. Rather than taking the personally costly road of directly helping the women considering an abortion, it’s much easier to write a check, let someone preach the message, and then throw our hands up in despair when no one listens.

The ministry of Jesus was incarnational and costly. In Philippians 2 Paul speaks of Jesus who emptied himself and took on the form of a servant. A Super Bowl commercial is a big platform that does not require us to empty anything other than a bank account.

Allocating Our Resources

Lastly, the Tebow commercial brings up a matter of stewardship. The organizers of this commercial no doubt wanted to save lives, and for that I commend them. However, is this the best we can do with the resources at hand?

Three million dollars were tossed into an ad campaign that will most likely only harden support either for or against abortion without changing many minds or saving many lives. We can debate that, but hear me out: there are children in Haiti who need basic food and water to survive, tribes in Africa who needs wells, and malnourished children all over the world who could benefit greatly by a three million dollar investment.

If we only want to talk about ending abortion, then I’d ask whether this money would be better spent by creating medical clinics for financially struggling mothers. There are a lot of clinics I know of who would love a little bit of that money to purchase an ultrasound machine or to add a few doctors to their staff. Since health care in America isn’t quite as important as funding a war to drop bombs on terrorists hanging out in caves, I think that’s the least we could do.

A bunch of right-wing Christians opening medical clinics so that the poor can have health care may just shock enough “godless liberals” with our love and generosity that they’ll want to find out about Jesus for themselves.

Grace on Game Day

I want to make clear that I’m not necessarily mad at Tebow or Focus on the Family. I’m sad. This is a terrible opportunity to waste. It’s sad to think that three million dollars could be spent for the sake of thirty seconds of air time while there are so many pressing problems among the poor in America, Haiti, and around the world.

I’m also sad that there isn’t a more robust debate about the message of Jesus and it relates to the way we allocate our resources. Instead, we hear about whether we should be tolerant or intolerant of the political end of this message. To be frank, I don’t care about that in the least.

The Tebow commercial reveals that we have some priorities out of line, and I don’t give myself a free pass on this by any means. It’s a constant struggle to keep my priorities in line. As we watch the Tebow commercial I suggest we stop to think about how we use our resources, how we minister to others, and how we can strive to imitate the costly, personal ministry of Christ.

My review disclaimer: I received this book as part of a blog review program. And by the way, I’m doing very, very few book reviews in the future after I wrap up the five or six books I have lined up for the next few months since I’m focusing on doing more series based on books of the Bible. I’m just saying.

I was sent a copy of Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert’s book after a publicist at Moody Press noticed my review of Richard Stearn’s The Hole in Our Gospel. I have found that this book, When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor and Yourself, is a great next step after reading Stearn’s rallying cry.

The problem is that many Christians want to help the poor, but the ways we aim to help often end up creating situations where we devalue the poor and create dependence on outside resources. Oftentimes charity work takes the form of relief work without progressing into phases of rehabilitation and community-lead development.

Never lacking for stories and detailed explanations, this is a great book for Christian leaders, charity ministries, volunteers, and anyone who is interested in donating time or money toward poverty alleviation. The chapter on short-term mission trips should be mandatory reading for every youth pastor. In addition, this book gave me both a greater understanding of what it looks like to help eradicate poverty and the encouragement to realize, “Holy cow! This is possible!”

Though this book strays more toward the reference category with its systematic approach and explanations of each facet of helping the poor, to the person involved in charitable work in any form or planning to start such a ministry, this book will be a motivational life-saver, if not a page-turner.

The authors wear their Calvinism on their sleeves throughout the book, even in creating a definition for poverty alleviation that has a heavy dose of the Westminster Confession to it. I’m not quite sure I’d use their definition word for word because I’d want to emphasize more about joining in the Kingdom of God and the extension of the rule of Christ. However, that’s more of a theological quibble that I have since I’m not a Calvinist—though I deeply appreciate much about that theological system.

Though the theology of the authors pops up at some interesting places throughout the book, I can’t imagine most readers would take issue with it. It’s certainly not a deal breaker.

I’m glad there are so many great books out right now about poverty alleviation and serving among the poor. My favorite remains The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborn, though if you’re looking for a practical guide to serving among the poor, this is a tough book to top. I highly recommend it. In light of the situation in Haiti, I suggest that this book is a very good place for Christians who are new to relief work and alleviating poverty.

Read a sample chapter today.

In my book Coffeehouse Theology I spent a lot of time explaining how theology is developed in Christian community with an awareness of context under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, scripture, and tradition. While it matters a great deal to keep all of these pieces in view, the physical location where we form theology is a part of context that perhaps doesn’t receive the attention it deserves, especially in light of its influence.

When we speak about context we often focus on philosophy, pop culture, and shared values—the shared values and experiences that color our view of the world. The other part of context is a our physical location, whether in a city, in the country, in a wealthy neighborhood, or among the poor.

This was driven home for me over the past weekend while speaking in a church meeting at a prison. Whenever you speak about freedom, authority, or Roman soldiers oppressing the Israelites, inmates have a tendency to add their own interpretive spin that doesn’t always help them submit themselves to God, one another, and secular authority. By the same token, whether I speak among those who minister among the poor or those in the suburbs, there are different concerns to address and adjustments to make in application.

Having several different locations to think through my theology has pulled me out of my shell, forcing me to challenge my assumptions and opening up fresh meanings and applications for the biblical text.

While preparing to speak in a church in a relatively impoverished area this was driven home particularly strong when I thought about the way John the Baptist started his ministry in the wilderness, far away from the political and religious epicenters of his day. In fact, the one thing we notice in the Gospels about those with authority, whether in religion or government, they can twist, tame, and challenge the message of God’s coming Kingdom to fit their own agenda.

Jesus wasn’t even allowed to heal a man on the Sabbath according to them. When he did, the Gospel of Mark tells  us that the religious leaders plotted against him with the help of those affiliated with the government. That should be give us pause before we strive for religious power and authority.

By preparing to speak to people on the margins of our society I saw these familiar texts in new ways. I realized that I need to not only question my experiences, values, and philosophical assumptions, but also the very place where I’m forming that theology and the challenges of that particular location. In doing that we will find God speaking to us in fresh ways and opening our eyes to the riches found in scripture.

I’ve read about Paul boasting of weaknesses, but it has become increasingly clear to me that everything we count as a weakness or past failure is an opportunity for God to not only heal us, but for us to share that healing with others. We boast about our weaknesses because they remind us of our need for God and the power of God in our lives.

No matter how hard I try to forget it, God has a way of bringing up our insufficiencies, while overwhelming us with his love and sufficiency. I experienced this directly over the weekend.

While speaking at a church I mentioned some of my struggles with fear and anxiety. It kicks in at predictable moments, but on other occasions I become keyed up and nervous without necessarily realizing what has caused it.

To make a long story short, my family prayed for me, God’s Spirit filled the room and all of us, and I sensed that God’s Kingdom was advancing into that area of my life, breaking the power of fear. The verse, “God has not given us a spirit of fear (or timidity)” came to mind, a constant reminder of God’s power and the simple fact that he does not want us to live in fear. He gives us a Spirit of confidence, a Spirit that makes us God’s sons and daughters.

And so after the service someone mentioned having similar struggles with fear and anxiety. I know the feelings all too well: the tension in the chest and the shortness of breath. I felt deeply burdened to pray, so Julie, myself, and a few others prayed for this person. Once again, God’s Spirit showed up powerfully.

In reality, I had nothing much to offer this person. However, since God’s Spirit brought healing into my life, I have a gift I can freely share with others. As I celebrate my weakness and inability to overcome anxiety and fear on my own, I can celebrate the power of God and freely pass it on to others.