Yesterday’s Gospel lectionary reading was Luke 22:39-51.  After Jesus prays in the Garden, Judas comes to betray him.  Then comes this amazing scene:

49When those who were around him saw what was coming, they asked, “Lord, should we strike with the sword?” 50Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear. 51But Jesus said, “No more of this!” And he touched his ear and healed him. (NRSV)

Think about it: One of Jesus’ closest disciples (John says it was Peter), severely wounded someone who wasn’t a disciple.  Peter had good intentions:  He wanted to defend Jesus.  He wanted to show whose side he was on.  He thought he was doing the right thing – after all, Jesus had just told him to make sure he had a sword on him (22:36). 

How often do well-intentioned Christians end up severely wounding those outside the church?  They want to defend Jesus.  They want to make their message heard.  They think they’re doing the right thing.  But they end up slicing off ears instead of being faithful to Jesus.  I have a number of friends who have been wounded by Christians.  In turn, some blame the Church for what individual Christians have done.    To be fair, it’s not the fault of “the Church” or of Jesus himself, but of individual Christians like Peter who thought they were doing the right thing but did more harm than good.

I think this passage provides two words of encouragement to those who’ve been wounded by Christians:  (1) Jesus wants to heal those wounds.  Just as Jesus touched Malchus’ ear and healed it, so he can heal the wounds of those who’ve been wronged by his followers ever since.  Whether it was a relationship gone wrong, abuse, injustice, or any other unfaithful act by a follower of Jesus, Jesus wants to heal those wounds.   (2) Jesus’ followers aren’t perfect.  We’re not Jesus.  We’re just as much in need of Him as those outside the Church.  Even the most devoted disciples, or the most bold in demonstrating their allegiance to Jesus, will inevitably screw up like Peter did.  And when that happens, Jesus says “No more of this!”.  We have to pause and ask ourselves, “What are we called to repent of in our own actions that have wounded others?” And then we pray and trust that Jesus will heal the wounds we’ve caused.

Today is Father’s Day.  I’m in Telluride, CO, where I’ve spent the weekend at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival with my dad.  We’ve come to the festival together off and on since I was a child – the last time being four years ago, before I got married and moved to Pittsburgh.  It’s usually on Father’s Day weekend, so I’m grateful for the chance to celebrate Father’s Day here with him again.  In fact, thinking about my gratitude for sharing Telluride with him inspired this list of other reasons why I’m grateful for my dad:

1. I’m grateful for the love of good music that he gave me.  Not only have we come to Telluride numerous times together, but we’ve been lots of concerts together: Willie Nelson, Dave Matthews, James Taylor, Emmylou Harris.  On long drives when I was growing up, we always listened to Tom Petty together in the car.  He bought me my guitar and my mandolin. Thanks for the gift of music. 
2. I’m grateful for my dad teaching me how to ski.  (He also taught me how to golf.  Given the infinite frustrations of golf, I’m a bit more grateful for skiing.)
3. I’m grateful for the work ethic my dad instilled in me.  He works hard.  I learned to work hard from him. 
4. I’m grateful for the example of financial stewardship that he is.  As a teenager, I whined and complained about the fact that I didn’t get the expensive clothes and shoes my friends did.  Now, I’m grateful – my dad’s reluctance to spend money frivolously imparted financial wisdom to me.
5. I’m grateful for the education my dad gave me.  Yes, he paid for my college, but he also did a lot to make me value the education I received to. I’m grateful for the way provided for me in other ways, too.
6. I’m grateful for the travels my dad has shared with me.  We used to spend my middle-school spring breaks driving throughout the southwest, visiting national parks like Bryce, Zion, the Grand Canyon, and Arches.  We also took a family trip to France.
7. Along the same line, I’m grateful for the experiences of the outdoors that my dad gave me.  From fishing during summer weekends at our family’s cabin on Grand Mesa, to hikes and Jeep trips in the San Juans, my dad taught me to appreciate the beauty of creation.
8. I’m grateful for the fact that he was at every school play, every basketball game, every show choir concert when I was growing up.
9. I’m grateful for his personality.  The more I find myself turning into my dad, the less I mind.
10. I’m grateful for the fact that he always said “Love ya” when dropping me off at school or ending a phone conversation.  I’ve only recently begun to realize how important that was.

Thanks Dad.  Happy Father’s Day!

Almost a year ago, I asked the question Can Introverts Plant Churches?  I was curious, mostly because I happened to be an introvert, working with another introvert, about to embark on the journey of the highly extroverted task of church-planting.  Eleven months later, here’s what I’ve learned from my own personal experience:

It’s possible if:

• I practice Sabbath.  Sabbath for me is solitude.  Starting in January of this year, I made every Monday a sabbath from church work.  Usually I spend the entire day alone, often at home reading and resting, only leaving the house to exercise. It’s so refreshing!  Last fall, before I committed to practicing this, I was much more tired, and had a harder time concentrating.  One day a week of pure introvert time does wonders.
• I balance my schedule.  I remember one Wednesday back in February that was hell for me: early morning meeting over coffee, followed immediately by “staff” meeting, followed immediately by another lunch meeting, followed immediately by an afternoon of phone calls and emails, followed by a full closing shift at the cafe.  I was wiped out.  Now I intentionally schedule my time so that I alternate times of people-intensive work with times alone.  As a result, my mood is much more stable.
• I keep my intellectual life alive.  The times when I’ve been most excited about getting out there and doing ministry have been the times when I’ve been able to nourish my mind with a good book that motivates me for ministry.  Give me a day to read about missiology and I’ll have energy for a week of church work.
• I have an “in” for talking to strangers.  Like most introverts, I find it intimidating to start a conversation out of nowhere with a random stranger.  But give me any sort of structure – such as being the barista making them a latte – and conversation flows much easier.
• We try to minimize triangulation.  Triangulation is when Person A tells Person B something they should have told Person C directly.  I think being Person B is especially exhausting for introverts.  Thankfully, we recognized early on in the church-planting process where this was happening and have tried to avoid it. 

It’s difficult if:

• Your spouse is in the church-plant too.  It took us a while to figure out that after everyone else leaves, I just don’t have the mental or emotional energy left to keep talking church stuff with Eileen.  Usually we can get past this – by talking about other less serious things or just sitting next to each other reading.  But it was tough for a while.
• Your tent-making job involves being around other people constantly.  I love my job at the cafe, but I have to make sure I have lots of time to myself in the afternoon before I spent a night closing at the cafe.  Otherwise I’m too people-tired to relate in any depth with my friends/co-workers/customers there.  And after all, that’s what I’m there to do.

There’s my assessment after almost a year.  Again, I’m grateful to Introverted Church for helpful insights and book recommendations – Introvert Advantage did wonders for our marriage – and I can’t wait to read Introverts in the Church when it comes out this fall.

A while back, I posted about the World Christian Discipleship Program which is starting in the East End of Pittsburgh next fall.  This Friday, June 5th, from 6:30pm to 8:00pm there will be an open house with wine and cheese at the Union Project (801 N. Negley) to learn more.  Please pass this on to anyone whom you know who may be interested. For more information, visit the website or contact me.

Please allow me to take a moment for a personal theological/missiological rant:

Mike and I were talking this morning about how people from traditional Christendom style churches have trouble understanding the concept of church-planting.  He told me that sometimes people ask him when he’ll be a “real pastor”.  My response: “Maybe you should ask them when they’ll be ‘real Christians’.  Then you can explain to them why all Christians are called to service, to witness, to mission.  Ask them ’Were you baptized for nothing?’ The answer would probably be ‘Yes.’” 

Yes, my judgment is harsh and exaggerated.  I speak in hyperbole.  In truth, anyone who believes Jesus is Lord is a Christian.  But we ceased long ago to believe that the Lordship of Jesus requires all who name Him as Lord to speak and act in His name, regardless of whether we’re employed by a church.  Mission is something that every Christian is called to.  But congregations would rather outsource that work to their pastor.  That’s cowardice.

We’ve been reading Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics IV.3.2 together with some other friends.  In the first few sections of this volume, Barth labors at length to make the points that (1) Christians are not “saved” for their own sake only, as though Jesus someone exists only to satisfy their consumeristic desires.  Instead  (2) all who have been “awakened” and “called” to follow Jesus are called to do so as witnesses for Him.  Witnesses bear witness to who Jesus is, what Jesus did, what He cares about in the world today.  Witnesses bear witness to the Kingdom of God by proclaiming that Jesus is Lord and by working to bring the justice and peace of His Kingdom into the world.   By this definition, very few of  our society’s nominal baptized-as-a-baby-because-the-parents-thought-it-was-magic cultural “Christians” are actually “real Christians.”

And yes, baptism matters in this discussion.  I have no theological qualms with infant baptism.  I’m a Presbyterian – a good old Reformed paedo-baptist.  I wouldn’t even say I have missiological qualms with infant baptism.  What I have a problem with is the assumption that anyonecan be baptized without (a.) clear commitment to Jesus (as for an adult baptism) or (b.) a clear understanding that one will be raised in a way that points to Jesus as Lord (as families and congregations covenant to do together in raising a baptized child in the church).  When we promiscuously baptize anyone out of social ritual rather than commitment to the mission of Christ, we perpetuate the notion that following Jesus means nothing more than enjoying the fact that one’s been “saved”, if one even believes that.  Instead baptism should be practiced in a way that clearly communicates a call to be born anew to Christ’s mission of redeeming the world.

Last night, while working at the cafe, a customer asked me how many people attend my church.  There are about 20 people who are in some way connected with Upper Room right now.  When I told her this, she responded, “Oh that’s too bad.  I’m sorry.”  Sorry? Why?  Because the cultural assumption is that churches neither start from scratch, nor grow – they just exist as institutions and buildings where people participate in their civil religion without it challenging the social order or upsetting the principalities and powers that be, much less proclaiming any good news that results in transformed lives and increased faith. 

No, I’m not saying every Christian is called to be a full-time church employee, pastor, or missionary.  That would be preposterous.  But I am saying that every person called to follow Jesus, every person sealed with baptism in His name, is called to be a living witness to Jesus in the world.  Doctor, social worker, teacher, engineer, secretary, parent, student, government worker, landscaper, fast-food server, barista, garbage man, businessman, accountant, lawyer, nurse  - in whatever sphere of influence one inhabits, that person is called to bear witness to Jesus.  Maybe it means doing your work in a way that reflects the beauty of creation, the justice God desires for the world, or the use and stewardship of Creation’s resources. It definitely means not being afraid to speak the name of Jesus when people ask why you do what you do the way you do. 

Maybe if we had this mindset, and connected it directly to our fundamental identity as Christians, the idea of mission would be less strange to cultural Christians.  Then not only pastors of large corporation-model congregations would be considered “real pastors”.  Instead we might actually practice a form of the priesthood of all believers.  Except, I might term it the “missionary society of all believers” among whom some are designated as pastors for the specific task of guiding the mission and ensuring its faithfulness through Word and Sacrament.

Mike and I both tend to be too intellectual in our sermons.  Yesterday we had an experience that shows why this can be a problem:

Mike is learning guitar.  Since I’ve played for a while, there have been a couple times when I’ve showed him new things on the guitar.  While showing Mike chords yesterday, I decided to switch and show him harmonics.  He had not asked any questions which would have brought up the subject.  As a beginner (though quickly learning) guitarist, he’s not at a point where harmonics are likely to be used in any songs he’s learning.  But I think harmonics are cool, so I wanted to show him harmonics. I’ve been playing guitar for fourteen years.  Mike has been playing for a few weeks.  I’m fascinated by things like harmonics.  Mike isn’t.  He wanted to learn how to move more quickly from a G chord to a C chord.

How often do preachers do exactly the same thing?  We get really excited about showing our congregation harmonics – whatever historical or linguistic or theological nuggets of information capture our attention -  when all the while the people present are more concerned with moving from one chord to another.

Part of the problem is pride.  We toss in “In the Greek it says . . .”, when we really could convey the same point without boasting of our education.  It’s not that we shouldn’t teach things of substance – we certainly should.  We just have to teach in a way that communicates to the people listening.  The Upper Room is an intelligent congregation, but most folks there could care less whether my sermons have footnotes.  More mild than boasting but equally prideful, we can also easily choose the self-centered topics.  As I showed Mike harmonics because I like them, so also I’m sure I’ve preached on some issues because I felt like it, not because it was appropriate for where the congregation was at that point. 

Another issue is seminary education: Removed from the non-Christian world, students get used to pleasing professors who are often more concerned with the finer points of theology or language than communication to a non-seminary (or non-Christian) audience.  The product is preachers who can expound on Greek and footnote the theologians they’re referencing, but have little skill in connecting to the everyday world of their congregations.  I’ve played guitar for fourteen years. But that doesn’t mean I should have showed Mike something I learned a few years into playing guitar when he’s a few weeks into it. 

So there’s the diagnosis.  But what’s the remedy?  Perhaps an accurate assessment of the congregation’s level of discipleship is a good place to start.  Are you preaching to longtime Christians or people new to faith?  Is their discipleship deep or shallow?  More importantly, though, the basic skills of communication have to be built.  I’m starting to read more fiction and poetry, as well as more non-churchy non-fiction, so that I get used to communicating more through story and image.  What other options might there be?

A couple weeks ago, Mike and I were interviewed by Leslie Scanlon for an article in the Presbyterian Outlook about The Upper Room’s approach to bi-vocational ministry.  (It’s available now online here, if you want to read it.)  Bi-vocational ministry simply means working another job outside of one’s formal church work to pay the bills.  It’s also called tentmaking because of Paul’s example in Acts 18:3.  It was the way much of the church functioned in its early history, and it’s the way many pastors earn a living in other parts of the world where Christianity is rapidly growing. 

In last Monday’s (May 11th) episode of God Complex Radio, Bruce Reyes-Chow and Carol Howard Merritt talked about the lack of full-time positions available in ministry for recent seminary graduates.   The problem is the relationship between the cost of education – very high - and what churches can afford to pay their pastors – in most places, not much.  (See Carol’s post We can no longer afford an educated clergy for more background.)  So, we need to find other models of ministry and preparation for ministry.  One such model may be bi-vocating for full-time tentmaking, which Bruce and Carol start talking about twenty minutes into the episode. 

Bi-vocating has worked for us, at least so far, but only for a number of reasons which are unique to us.  First, financially:  Mike and were able to go into bi-vocational ministry because we didn’t have loads of student loans to pay-off. (Thank you donors to Pittsburgh Theological Seminary!)  On top of that, Mike and I are still paid half-time salaries out of grants for new church development.  Because Presbyterians traditionally pay their pastors well, a half-time salary is still reasonable compensation.  Second, we like what we’re doing.   As Carol says 21 minutes in, bi-vocational ministry is resisted because a lot of pastors don’t know how to do anything else.  Even though Mike and I are bi-vocational, we’re definitely in this boat.  My other job is serving coffee at the 61C Cafe.  I love coffee, love being a barista, and love my job and coworkers at the cafe.  I don’t want to do anything else. And to be honest, educationally, I’m not prepared to do much else.  When I graduated from college with a degree in Religious Studies and Creative Writing, I said to myself: “I can two things with this degree, work in a coffee shop or go to grad school.”  Hence where I am today.  Third, The Upper Room is at a stage in its life right now where bi-vocating is necessary both for financial support, and for the growth of the church.  As a church-planter, my time at the cafe is my largest chunk of time each week spent getting to know the community we’re trying to reach.  Fourth, it’s consistent with the vision for Upper Room to have us be bi-vocational.  By bi-vocating, we don’t surround ourselves with other Christians, thus forcing us as pastors to live as missional examples for the people in the congregation.  All of that having been said, bi-vocating has worked for us in our context, but it won’t in every context. 

But for the past two weeks I haven’t stopped thinking What if we’re not radical enough?  What if the day comes when we will have to, by necessity, be full-time tentmakers?   What if I’ll have to go back to school or take a job in another field someday in order to fully support a family while still working for the church?  To prepare people for this kind of ministry requires a completely different kind of seminary, or model of ministry training.  Perhaps it would be something like the World Christian Discipleship Program.  Near the end of that episode of God Complex, Carol suggests pursuing creative forms of education which can be done alongside other work (whether full-time ministry or other employment).  I have a friend who will be going to seminary in Bolivia next year and taking distance classes from Fuller all while working in university ministry.  What other possibilities might there be?

Something about my last post didn’t quite sit right with me when I finished it.  A comment by PTS professor Scott Sunquist last night helped sort it out.  A student asked him to expound on the theme of hope, making reference to Hebrews 11:1, “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  Sunquist went on to talk about how all of the examples given in Hebrews 11 of heroes of faith died before they saw their hope realized (see Heb. 11:13).  What we truly hope for in the Kingdom of God cannot be realized within time. To use a seminary word, it’s eschatological hope.  It’s a hope that grows out of Christ’s resurrection.  And there’s no way to resurrection without crucifixion. 

The people of our world do indeed need to hear a message of hope, and they know this.  That’s why we look for hope in myriad places: political figures, technology, health-care, green economies, government bailouts.  All of these objects of “hope”, however, will one day disappoint us.  They are all false-hopes.  What distinguishes the Christian message of hope from all others is the gigantic cross that stands right in the center of the path to the land hoped for.  We do indeed proclaim a message of hope, but it’s one that has its center in the crucified Jesus.  Hope abstracted from both the cross and resurrection of Jesus is meaningless; hope defined as resurrection life in the Kingdom of God at the cost of the cross will not disappoint.

The  newspaper reported a few weeks ago on the results of the most recent American Religious Identification Survey, a broad study American religious demographic changes.  (Click here for the full report.)  The most interesting to me were these:

•  34 million people indicated no religious identity, and that number was up 20 million from 1990, now at 15% of the total US population.
• 27% of Americans do not expect a religious funeral.
• For some reason Asian Americans are substantially more likely to indicate no religious identity than other racial or ethnic groups.

It seems there’s a general movement away from Christianity toward unbelief and agnosticism.  John Ortberg responded by asking whether we’re witnessing the same process of secularization that took place in Europe a few decades ag0.  While only 76% of American’s population is nominally Christian, only 3.9% consciously identified as belonging to another religion.  But, that’s not to say other religions aren’t growing:  The ARIS study found that Islam is growing in the US and that “adherents of New Religious movements, inc luding Wiccans and self-described pagans, have grown faster this decade than in the 1990s.”  But the greater trend is a movement toward uncertainty, ambiguity in belief.  Ortberg notes that

Barry Kosmin, who co-authored the survey, commented that more than ever before “people are just making up their own stories of who they are. They say, ‘I’m everything. I’m nothing. I believe in myself.’” He said that faith is increasingly treated as a fashion statement that serves as a vehicle for self-expression rather than a transcendent commitment which demands costly devotion.

So, what does this mean for a new church like The Upper Room in Squirrel Hill?  Though often considered Pittsburgh’s Jewish neighborhood, Squirrel Hill is already high on the people who would have checked “None” on the ARIS survey.  In our grant writing for The Upper Room, a Percept demographic study of the neighborhood suggested that 38.3% of the people living here have no faith committment. 

How does the church relate with the “Nones” of our neighborhood, especially when many of them are de-churched?  Here are some thoughts based on Lesslie Newbigin’s writing about “The Congregation as Hermeneutic of the Gospel” in The Gospel in a Pluralist Society.  There Newbigin suggests that a church in this context will have six characteristics.

1. It will be a community of praise.
2. It will be a community of truth.
3. It will not live for itself, but will be “deeply involved in the concerns of its neighborhood.”
4. It will be a place where congregation members live out their “priesthood in the world.”
5. It will be a community of mutual responsibility.
6. It will be a community of hope. 

Of these, I think hope, the conviction that this world and life has a purpose, may be the message that the “Nones” most need to hear.  If one doesn’t expect a religious funeral (as 27% apparently doesn’t), then there is no proclamation of hope beyond death.  And if there’s no hope beyond death, then life has no meaning.  To be rooted in our own self-constructed identities provides nothing more than a coping mechanism without any sense of larger purpose to life.  When that purpose is discovered in the Kingdom of God a clear reason for hope and purpose is given: God’s work of redeeming, healing, and restoring a broken world through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  That hope of course leads to the other characteristics Newbigin lists: experiencing restoration in our own lives leads to praise, gives us an anchor of truth, and a reason to be responsible to one another.  That hope also is what moves us forward, with all members of the community caring for the world in concrete ways, specifically in our own neighborhood and workplaces. 

So, where do we proclaim hope in Squirrel Hill?  In the face of depression, loneliness, addiction? Into broken relationships and places of grief?   Into the places where the economic crisis has affected even a relatively well-to-do neighborhood?  I don’t think this is the only answer or way of approaching the un-religious population, but it’s a start.  It’s certainly not a vague or ambiguous hope we’re called to proclaim: it’s the hope of the resurrection of the crucified Jesus which means it will never lead to easy answers.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

Come join us this afternoon for “Converge: A Picnic in the Park Celebrating Diversity Through Music and Dance”!  It runs from 12:00-4:00 up at Frick Park.  Go in the Blue Slide entrance (Beechwood & Nicholson) and walk along the path toward the dog park.  We’ll have live music from Kim Faught, the Guinea West African Drum and Dance Ensemble, and Joy Ike.   Bring some food and a blanket and prepare for a fun afternoon of music in the park.  For more, go here.