Saturday, January 13, 2007
The Evolution of the Clubhouse

• God’s people began to behave as if God’s primary activity had moved indoors. The church as a building became the place where certain things happened: where the Gospel was rightly preached, the sacraments rightly administered and sometimes discipline exercised. Instead of moving into the culture, the church compelled people to come in. And the church became a kind of clubhouse. E.g. Instead of baptism being our ordination to the mission of the church, it became our initiation to the club—and “evangelism committees” became membership management groups.
• The clubhouse—the church—thought of itself as the repository of God’s grace. And because we had God’s grace, and others didn’t, the church’s mission was either to give it away—or be at war with the hostile culture. “Missions” came to be thought of as programs which somehow took the grace of God and the message of the Church into the enemy territory. The “us and them” view took over. A great chasm began to grow between the “sacred” and the “secular”.
• Understandably the Church also became more and more institutional and program focused. Organization and strategy took center stage.
• And leadership became professional and hierarchical. No longer was leadership as much about gifts and roles designed to equip people to be a part of God’s work, as much as it was about building the institution, governing the organization, and caring for those who gathered.
All this wasn’t so bad, as long as the church was pretty much in the center of things in the culture. Sure, at different points throughout the next 1600 years, changes needed to be made. Sometimes the church got off track theologically. Sometimes the institution, controlled by sinful people, became corrupt and needed to be reformed. But mostly things worked OK.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
All These People, This Cross of Oil

For a number of years, it has been a tradition in our church on the first Sunday of the new year, to offer, as a part of the worship service, a time of anointing with oil.
Please do not be scared. This is not hocus pocus, or Benny Hinn strangeness. No people falling down. Just the chance to have the cross marked on your forehead in oil, and for a fellow sinner to pray with and for you - for guidance, or help, or wisdom, or need, as we face the new year. Together. And then, to head forth, into the city, into the world.
Today, I had the privilege of being one who makes that cross with oil and to stand beside, and to pray. I am so ill equipped for this, my feet are of such clay. This is an sacred honor and a privilege. As the oil is administered, we say, "In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."
And oh, the people who came.
The prestigious seminary graduate, who lost a dream of a lifetime vocation in a specific ministry - and who is now seeing light at the end of a dark tunnel of wondering about the future.
The introverted young office worker, who really wants to become more of an extrovert in this new year. To really love all the people around him, each day, in a new and real way, with God's help.
The ex-convict, who is just now piecing his life together, after years of bad choices and terrible circumstances. He would like to start over, to make a new life, and he wants to figure out how he can serve God in the midst of all this.
The teenager who has been through two brain cancer surgeries, and stood today before me as a reminder of many things; healing, the fragile nature of our time on this planet, of tenacity, of hope, and of God's creation and care for each of us.
The couple who are sensing a complete change in their young married life, from the safety of stable professional jobs, toward the fear of change associated with new careers in film writing - together. They want to understand what this means, and how God is calling them.
And for my daughter, who asked for prayer for understanding for choosing a new school when she reaches high school age.
What a remarkable collection of our little corner of the Kingdom.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Wrinkled Missionaries, New Ways of Thinking

So, what ARE we gonna do? Well, if we are Presbyterians, we form a Committee to study it, with a name like the Committee to Study It, or the Vision Committee, of the Next Century Working Group. Whatever.
Maybe as a part of our spiffy committee formations, we need to take a look back, and a look around at the rest of the world.
By the way, none of these thoughts are original, they are part of the Missional Church Movement, of which Presbyterian Global Fellowship is a part. God might just be doing something new. I have plagiarized large parts of this from here; the mind of Dr. Steven Hayner (friends of mine are friends of his). I have no shame.
The Early Church
In the first centuries the Holy Spirit pushed Jesus’ followers out of their comfort zones and into the Greek and Roman worlds—and beyond. About the middle of the second century, Justin Martyr declared: "There is not one single race of men whether barbarians, or Greeks, or whatever they may be called, nomads, or vagrants, or herdsmen living in tents, among whom prayers and giving of thanks are not offered through the name of the crucified Jesus." [Dial. cum Tryph., cxvii.] Within 3 centuries, new outposts of witness had been planted in all corners of the world—and in the west, Christianity became the official religion of the Empire.
God continued to work—and has done so to this day—calling, wooing, healing, freeing, forgiving, and engaging more people in the adventure of participating with God’s Great Plan.
But in the 4th century something began to happen to the church. As it became more and more accepted in the culture, and as there were more and more Christians, the Church began to be less of a movement and more of an institution (sound familiar?).
Even the use of the word “Church” began to change. Instead of referring to God’s people, “church” began to refer to a building—or a particular program activity. “We’re going to church.”
I have spent most of my adult life going to church. Well, at 48 years old, I am getting tired of going to church, I think I might like to be the church now.
More soon.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Poopie Doodie For Christians

Tim used to say this just about all the time. It was used interchangeably as an expression of fun, frustration, and mostly to get his cousins to laugh. Tim is a showman, just like his Dad. We now use this expression in our house to replace other, less acceptable forms of verbal frustration.
Well people, we have Poopie Doodie Problems in the church, but perhaps we don't realize it. Wait, I am SURE we don't realize it. If we did, we would stop this behavior.
Thanks to Michael Spencer, over at Internet Monk, I have found evidence of something that makes me nearly wretch. The selling of Christian......stuff, and lots of it.
James Watkins, of the Charlotte Observer has a column you really need to read, called the "Christian Industrial Complex". As it turns out, the Christian retail industry topped $4.5 billion in gross sales last year. Now, if my math is correct, if you took $30 per month, and used it to support a child in the third world, you could support 250,000 children for the next 50 years! Or alternately, you could support 1,000,000 children for the next 12.5 years - to the point at which they might hopefully be self sufficient. Now that might really make a difference in our weary world.
Either way, something is sick in our culture. Maybe this is why folks find the church irrelevant so often. We are so caught up by the latest trends; The Purpose Driven This, and the Prayer of Jabez That, The Wild At Heart This, and the Your Best Life Now That.
We aren't any different than much of the rest of the modern culture, behaving like lemmings, we Christian folk. We follow the latest popular fad, rather than focusing on important things, the mystery of the Word made flesh, and how our faith can be more transformational, the ways that Christ can transform our faith, and help us to really, really love other people well.
Or maybe not. You decide.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Five Weird Things

As there are approximately 12 readers of this blog, this should prove to be earthshattering news that will affect the Internet to an extent greater than its original invention, by Al Gore of course. And so without further ado, five weird things about Steve, as reported by members of my family (as I can find nothing weird about myself).
- 1. My music tastes are those of an 80 year old and/or I enjoy certain Hawaiian music. This has been the case ever since our family vacation to Kauai in the summer of 2005. Get ready, they will be playing Hawaiian music in Heaven.
- I find pleasure and calm in watching the Kreepy Crawly pool sweep move around the bottom of our pool. I have no idea why, but this is true. I find it soothing. Sue me.
- My belly button is an "outie"; which places me in a rare class (4% of the population). I have had it fixed twice via surgery (not just for THAT!) to no avail. Still an outie; such is my fate in life. Enough information.
- I don't like tight clothes. Never have, never will. A guy needs room to relax.
- I shoot squirrels in my back yard trees with a beebie gun just like Ralphie in A Christmas Story. They eat these little pod things in the tree over my pool, thus making more work for the Kreepy Crawly thing.....wait a minute.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
A Ford, Not A Lincoln

This has been a week to remember the average guy. The guy who does his job (even if it happens to be President) each day, is kind to his neighbor, loves his wife and his family, and who quietly, makes this a great country to live in. We need more Gerry Fords.
Ben Stein, who used to write speeches for Gerald Ford, has it exactly right here. I give you a short quote, which sums it all up:
Defeated for election, Ford went peacefully into elder statesman mode, helped his noble wife dignify the fight against alcoholism and addiction, and stood for decades as a figure of grace and humility. Five miles east of the lovely home that Ford lived and died in in the California desert, there is a simple cottage where men and women go to attend meetings to bring peace and sobriety. On one wall there is a list of the people who have been coming frequently, just by first name and last initial. Two of those names are "Gerald and Betty F." Not President. Not Minority Leader. Just "Gerald and Betty F." Just two people trying to spread oil on the troubled waters of human existence. A Ford, not a Lincoln, but what a glorious Michigan-made vehicle of the human spirit.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Some Children See Him

Some children see Him lily white
the infant Jesus born this night
Some children see Him lily white
with tresses soft and fair
Some children see Him bronzed and brown
the Lord of heav'n to earth come down
Some children see Him bronzed and brown
with dark and heavy hair (with dark and
heavy hair!)
Some children see Him almond-eyed
This Saviour whom we kneel beside
Some children see Him almond-eyed
With skin of yellow hue!
Some children see Him dark as they
Sweet Mary's Son to whom we pray
Some children see Him dark as they
And, ah! they love Him so!
The children in each different place
Will see the Baby Jesus' face
Like theirs but bright with heav'nly grace
And filled with holy light!
O lay aside each earthly thing
and with thy heart as offering
Come worship now the infant King
'tis love that's born tonight!
'tis love that's born tonight!

The composer of song has a bittersweet subplot, as can be found, in detail here (click "history"). Alfred Burt lived only 33 years, before succuming to lung cancer, far too early in life. He left behind a wife and daughter, who have carried on his musical tradition.
James Taylor of Chapel Hill, NC, 10 years my senior. Alfred Burt, born the same year as my Dad, and died 4 years before my birth. Neither men met each other, but together, they have created a song that speaks remarkably well of the universality of a faith more than 2,000 years in the making.
And who says Christmas is not, at its deepest center, a mystery?
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Deconstructing Church

Sometimes I think I live in a cave. James Taylor has a new Christmas album, and I had no idea, until the other day when my buddy John told me. Tickets for his solo (only James, no band) concert in LA in February are sold out, and now going for up to $400 per seat. Guess we won't be going, although I would love to.
Anyway, I am online just now listening to "In The Bleak Midwinter" from James' new album, and my eyes are tearing up. Here is why. James is a fellow who has had a somewhat wandering, wondering spiritual journey his whole life. He has written songs touching on semi-new age and Earth worship, of sorts. And now, I hear him singing from this tune, one of my Christmas favorites:
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, empty as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my
part; Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.
And listening to this fellow, who's music I grew up with, I am a sniffling mess. I feel like I know James, we have spent so many hours together in the car, in my bedroom at my parents as a teen, in my dorm room at college, in my first house, at many of his local concerts, and more recently, in the family van with the little girls who are now not so little any more. More than 25 years in all. In this new album, James seems very comfortable with Jesus and the songs about him.
Here is what I think. I think we have to deconstruct the way we do church. My guess is that James is not so much disinterested with Jesus, its the church people that claim to speak for Jesus that he has a hard time with. I think James and Jesus might do very well together, as friends. And perhaps, after spending time with him, James might want to "give his heart", if you will. James is not so unique. Our cities and towns are filled with people just like him. Everywhere. Subtly searching, but unwilling to deal with the structures of the church.
We in the church, for our part, need to create a more welcoming, warm, real, relevant, and loving place. Maybe then, the James' of the world would come visit, and over time, become a part, and maybe even....give their hearts.
May it be so.
Monday, December 25, 2006
My Christmas Prayer

Last night we were part of a large festive party with friends and family old and new from church. The food was wonderful, the conversation warm, the laughter abundant, the warmth of Christmas filled the house with joy. After an early dinner, we walked the neighborhood randomly caroling the neighbors, to their delight, in spite of our less than perfect attempts at Christmas carols.
A grey sky looms this afternoon outside; with showers predicted for tonight. There is a momentary calm, as the raucous teenage girls that will live with us for a few short years longer, have friends over, and are quietly conferring in their rooms.
I sit, laptop in hand in the family room, reflecting on this Christmas 2006, listening to Mozart's Laudate Dominum (see below), perhaps one of the most hauntingly beautiful Adagios ever composed. And ironically, it was written at a point in Mozart's life that was not perfect.
LAUDATE DOMINUM
Psalm 117 (Vulgate)
Laudate Dominum omnes gentes: laudate eum omnes populi.
Quoniam confirmata est super
nos misericordia ejus: et veritas Domini manet in aeternum.
Gloria Patri.
O praise the Lord, all ye
nations: praise Him, all ye people.
For His mercy is confirmed upon us: and the truth of the Lord remaineth for ever.
Glory be to the Father
So much in our world is not indeed far less than perfect this Christmas. Is it not always so? And so, this is my Christmas prayer:
Lord, on this day after Christmas, I am filled with ambiguity.
You came with a cry, nearly alone, the scream of a helpless, messy, completely fragile baby.
Your first attendants were ordinary shepards,
And our world, your world, is so much less than holy or perfect,
I think about our happy Christmas celebration,
I think about the happy parts of my own life,
and then the sadness that also fill the corners of my heart,
And I wonder, how can my life
I bring both the broken pieces of my life, and the broken parts of the world to you,
May I be haunted by the life and love of the child who became a King.