Digging in: John 9 (1000)

[This is public blogpost #1000.  In this post, I'm going to attempt to merge concisely some very significant areas--exegesis, religious challenge and reform, and worship.  And then I'm going to take somewhat of a break.  This is a longish blog, but I hope you'll take the time, because there won't be any more blogs coming from me anytime soon!]

Digging In:   John 9

One of the Marvelous Happenings in the Life of Jesus

Exegetical Interpretation, Focusing on Christian Challenge/Reform and Worship
With a Timely, Eulogistic Postscript

John 9 has long been a favorite chapter, and it’s not because I memorized it as a child or because it was read at a family funeral.  This chapter is of deep impact on me because the story highlights Jesus in a way that simply won’t let me go.

While it would have been nice, I suppose, to have a true essay worked out, I would need more time for that, “living with” the text for a period of weeks or even months.  I trust that it will be beneficial to see the process of asking questions of the text, not only the reaching of conclusions.

Method  Ideally, I would start with two or more readings of the entire gospel, in different versions — perhaps one with more of a sentence-for-sentence orientation, and another, more of an expansive paraphrase.   Initially, my method was simple:  to read/refresh myself on the whole of chapter 9, and jotting questions I had while reading.  The “first pass” through chapter 9 resulted in the need for a second pass.  Within about an hour and a half total, I had approximately two pages of notes/questions.  (An irresistible 3rd pass is yielding almost as many additional questions and brought tears to my eyes, but the new material will have to wait.)  For sake of brevity — ha! — I am selecting only a portion of these questions to blogshare (to coin a term).

Book-level questions

Bypassing for the moment the typical, academic, background questions that are important but are more stock-in-trade (author, date and place of writing, audience, etc.), I ask such things as these, from a perspective that is mostly “zoomed out” on the entire gospel of John:

• What special features can be found in John’s vocabulary and literary style?
• Within the whole gospel, does chapter 9 constitute a bona fide pericope?  Does John use pericopes as, say, Matthew does?
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for John?
• How does God the Father relate to Jesus in the narrative?  Is Jesus called “Son of Man” earlier? later? throughout? often?
• How does John’s stated purpose (20:30-31) relate, or not, to key aspects found in this passage, such as spiritual blindness, sin, coming to faith, and worship?  How might belief in 9:35-36 be tied to the overall, stated purpose?

Smaller-context questions

Now zooming in more to the immediate context:

• Where are we in the progression of John’s narrative when we reach the events of chapter 9?  What occurs immediately before, and immediately after?  (The answer to these questions may be singularly significant.)
• Check 9:1-2 for chiastic structure.  (Note the three mentions of blindness.)
• Note the various portrayals in this chapter:  disciples, Jews, neighbors, Pharisees, and the man.  (Larger question:  how is each group painted in John overall, as compared to Mark?)
• What is the relationship of blindness and sin for each of the above people/groups?
• Could there be a larger inclusio from 9:1-34 (“the Jews’” idea of sin as bookends)?
• Note the relationship between eyesight and light and works, as in verse 4.
• Is “Siloam” Aramaic?  Translation relationship to Greek “apostle”?  Any significance to be found in Jewish background there — either with the Siloam pool or with the use of the word in OT texts?  What is John saying by inserting the definition of the word?
• Chiasm in 9:13-16 vicinity (Pharisees, had been blind, Jesus, mud ==> Sabbath, Pharisees <== mud, Jesus, see, Pharisees/Sabbath). Yes? Investigate.
• Examine the use of “disciples” in 9:27-28 vs. its use in John overall.
• How does the Father God figure in to this story?
  • What do “the Jews” and the Pharisees think of Him?  How do they “use” Him? (vv. 16, 24, 29)
  • What does the blind man think of Him?  (9:31, 33)
  • What could be made out of the fact that Jesus mentions God early in the story but not later?
• Hermeneutically speaking, are questions (such as the above group) significant from both John’s and the first readers’ points of view?  Does John show any bias or agenda that his first-century readers would naturally share, or naturally be resistant to?  How is God potentially working through John to say what needs to be said?  And how do these answers affect my own point of view?
• What is the significance of the label “Son of Man” in this particular text?  (It seems significant for John in the ultimate responsiveness of the [formerly] blind man.)  (9:35)
• There appears to be a mirroring mini-chiasm in 9:39:  blind ==> see; see <== blind?  Do “judgment” and “guilt” complete this mini-structure?
• Note some striking, possibly unusual, recurring, or significant vocabulary words and phrases in NASB:  blind, works of God, displayed, Light of the world, spit, seeing, eyes opened/opened my eyes (vv. 10, 13, 17, 30, 32), mud, miraculous signs, prophet, put out of the synagogue, “give glory to God,” disciples.

Musings  Some musings and commentary stem from these types of questions!

I.  In terms of challenge to the status quo and religious power structures … it seems to me that there are battles presented in this chapter — a battle of people and cliques, a battle of systems, and ultimately, a battle of and for the Kingdom.  Clearly, the Jews and the Pharisees are the “conservatives” here, resisting challenge and change — while the simple facts of the blind man’s story necessitate, on the other hand, that traditional viewpoints are challenged.

Although the connection of blindness and sin might be an easy target for preachers of sermons, one should not dive into a topical sermon that uses a snippet of John 9 without first knowing a good deal about the context(s) here.  We could not, in other words, legitimately draw any conclusions about the equation of spiritual blindness and sin without knowing more of how John the inspired writer uses and develops those ideas (or doesn’t) within the literary context.  Just as significant would be some cultural insights — related, for example, to blindness, begging, synagogue norms, Pharisees, and more.  This area, like so many others, requires more investigation.

It has long seemed to me that the parents in this story are presented as weak and sniveling.  (Textual clues gained in further investigation could bolster or counter this impression.)  Out of fear, they deflect attention and responsibility.  On the other hand, the “Pharisees” and “Jews” groups are not “weak,” but they are in some sense blind and foolish.  Note, for example, that they pronounce a cloudy half-truth regarding Jesus and the Sabbath in v. 16, and they resort to name-calling in v. 34.  The Jews in power are more interested in protecting their system than in avowing the obvious wonder that has just occurred at the hands of Jesus.  From their standpoint, 1) Jesus is a threat, and 2) the now-seeing man — although formerly negligible — may now be a threat, too.

Something that struck me 25 years ago, and still strikes me today (and here, I hope I’m not just coddling my earlier reading) is this:  the Pharisees could not even see, much less accept, the God-glorifying miracle that had obviously occurred because they were too invested in protecting their empire.  John presents unadorned facts in v. 7 (that the man “returned seeing”) and in v. 9 (that he kept saying “I am the one”).  Waxing prophetic, I would assert that the implications of the Pharisees’ stubbornness here are momentous for institutional Christendom, and for various cliques and sects.  Could the Pharisees legitimately be seen to represent some of the entrenched “clergy” of later eras?  The implicit warning echoes through the centuries:  Watch out that you’re not building your own structures, and pay attention to the work of God, or else you may be found blindly rejecting Him.

In contrast to the Pharisees and the parents stands the blind man.  I would imagine that a Jewish person reading or hearing John’s gospel would find intense irony here:  the blind man appears as largely a positive example, although he would previously have been a worthless drain on society — a mere opportunity to be seen giving alms!  Initially, the man is trusting and obedient.  He also makes an ostensibly false assumption:  that “God does not hear sinners.”  No, he doesn’t quite “get” everything about Jesus yet (no one could), but he is open, and he is coming to faith.  (Who wouldn’t be experiencing new things after having been given sight?!)  Not only can he see the ground in front of him for the first time in his life, but he is beginning to see who and what Jesus is.  An encouraging message surfaces:  that one can travel the road of discipleship, progressively coming to see more truth.

II. In terms of worship … the response seems so beautifully unfeigned and unaffected — the man simply worships, when confronted with the truths that Jesus is 1) from God and 2) able to work miracles.  (Let alone, for now, the question of the meaning of “Son of Man.”)  The antecedent worship word here is proskuneo, which

• is not inherently a “religious” thing to do
• means “kissing toward” as an act of homage, and implies bowing down
• has nothing directly to do with so-called whole-life worship
• is rather the simple act of response — by one who recognizes greatness far beyond oneself

Letting alone the so-called worship wars of our times, and jettisoning any historical connections related to liturgy/”services,” or checking off items on a list on Sunday mornings, or any other corruptions of biblical worship ideals, we see worship, pure and simple, in this text.  We see that an unconstrained person, when he observes the reality of Jesus, worships.

And that is a beautiful precedent that both instructs and compels.  Lord, may we.

~ ~ ~

Postscript

It worked out to honor my grandfather, Andy T. Ritchie Jr., by publishing my blogpost #1000 on this, the 104th anniversary of his birth.  (I even set the posting time as 19:09 CDT, the year of his birth, but this part is useless trivia.) 

Andy Thomas Ritchie, Jr., son of Andy T., Sr. and Fannie Mae Cobb Ritchie, was born and raised in the Nashville, Tenn., area.  He married Kathryn Delma Cullum in 1933; the pair had four children — Andy T. III, Edward, Bettye, and Joan.  I am #7 of 10 grandchildren, and there are 29 great-grandchildren.

Granddaddy taught music at David Lipscomb College and Bible and music at Harding College.  (Both later become universities.)  He was a concert singer who recorded an album in addition to his performing on stage and on radio.  He influenced thousands through his

• personal conversations and correspondence
• leadership of personal evangelism meetings and “lily pool” hymn sings on the Harding campus
• direction of the Harding Chorus for several years
• much-remembered classroom teaching (see here for an external mention)
• inimitable, compelling leadership of worship  in song, and preaching — in his own congregation, and in other states
• manner of living life

I think Granddaddy would have appreciated a good deal of what I’ve written on this blog to date, although certainly not all.  He himself wasn’t known for his writing as much as for his leadership in other veins, but he did publish articles in multiple periodicals and wrote a full-length book on worship.  I imagine that, were he alive today, he would also have expressed being inspired by John 9, and would have appreciated my exegetical efforts, along with the highlighting of the challenge of the (Jewish) status quo.  (Therein, certain goals of the Restoration Movement which influenced both of us are also highlighted.)  Granddaddy probably would have appreciated most the emphasis on the worship of God the Son, as seen in this compelling story.

Believe it or not, one of the more memorable aspects of Andy T. Ritchie, Jr., almost eluded mention until the fourth draft of this postscript.  He was severely sight-impaired for the last 20 years of his adult life, having suffered detached retinas related to diabetes, and later became legally blind.  This mention of his blindness, written after the main portion of this post, leads me to include, here, a prayer song I wrote for a family reunion some years ago.  Please take a moment to read at least the words of Lord, I Want To See.  (A sound file may be downloaded by clicking this link.)

Granddaddy entered the land of the eternally living and seeing in 1983.

Forward and backward thinking (998) — jointly written

I’m happy today that the latter half of this post was written by a guest writer I’m very close to — Karly Rose Casey.

I recently spent more than an hour watching a baseball World Series game that was played more than 30 years ago.  I doubt I watched that game back when it was actually played, but in a strange way, it was more enjoyable for me than today’s games, because that game was played in my time — an era in which I related more to to pro phase of the greatest game ever invented.¹

In some areas of life, looking backward nostalgically is pleasurable.  In other areas, looking forward seems more appealing.  As you consider the first two areas below, realize that they are short sections that will be of most interest to musician-readers.  If you’re not interested in those, skip right ahead to the section my wife wrote!

Composers   Take Brahms and Wagner as examples.  Now, I pretty much detest the thought of Richard Wagner, not being an opera fan, and not being a fan of overblown megalomaniacs, either.  But I can admire his having looked ahead, creating newness within a larger art form.  I also admire Brahms, who was quite the backward thinker in terms of structure, form, and genre — but who infused so many of his works with new expressiveness.  Many other composers of art music can be analyzed in these terms:

Palestrina was probably mostly a backward-thinker.  

Bach, as much as I hate to admit it, was probably more a forward-thinker.  

Mozart and Haydn seem to have dwelt more in their present than in the future.

Dvorak and Mendelssohn seemed mostly content in past structures, infusing works with beauty that fit frameworks then current, or recently past.

Liszt did some things with the past while decidedly moving forward.

Debussy and Schönberg thought ahead (the former with more success than the latter!).

Instrumental music structures in academia today  In another area of musical life — the one in which I find my vocation — score study and rehearsal planning method “templates” are fairly standard.  Most of us approach daily life in ensembles in the same vein:  more or less, we study a score in certain ways, we prepare certain sections for the next rehearsal, and we lead our ensembles.  In contrast to this standard model comes the creative thinking of Carolyn Barber, Director of Bands at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln.  It’s outside my scope here to provide any of Barber’s details; suffice it to say that she is a forward thinker and an articulate, compelling leader.  She inspires many by looking ahead methodologically and musically.

Church values and practices.  Ever notice that some churches seem to delight in being backward, while others seem to thrill to being ahead of the curve?  The following thoughts on the church disparity are my wife’s.  I appreciate her having gotten out of her comfort zone to write them, and I am delighted to post them here.

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I like antiques.  The attraction to things of times past is somehow ingrained in me.  I find value and some bits of wisdom in the way things used to be.  Butter churns and wash boards are intriguing.  However, I’ll keep my washing machine and I’ll make butter in the blender in 40 seconds if I want to.

What about antique church?  We visited a conservative² Mennonite church this past Sunday.  Men and women sit on opposite sides, the women all wear head coverings (the majority are “Amish style”), the men all in white shirts and dark suits.  The sermon focused on the value of the printed page which, to give the guy a bit of credit, was an interestingly unusual topic.  His push to the congregation was to get each member to pass out 50 tracts a week.  His stats told him that if every one of the 60+ members would meet the quota, that there would be 2,000 responses in a year.  *sigh*  Really???

Apparently, he/they are completely unaware of what it takes to reach people in the real world in the year 2013.  I appreciate their simplicity, their sincerity, their steadfastness … but they’re like antiques.  I dare you to tell any random woman that using a washboard instead of the modern washing machine is better because its simpler!  OK, that’s not equal to differences in religion, but you get the point.

Back up two weeks.  We were in the gathering at The Journey church.  They have electric guitars, people in jeans, and a coffee bar.  Do they hand out tracts?  No way.  But people are flocking to them.

Why?…

Because they’re reinventing the way we “do” church so that people who don’t know Jesus will come looking . . . without having to worry about not “fitting in.”  Try that in a church that requires head coverings.

What’s more important…  That the already-Christians are cozy in their routines? Or that people who don’t know Jesus find him?  (There’s only one correct answer.  Choose wisely.)

Now, it’s not impossible for people to come to know (or re-meet) the Savior in a “normal church”, but the rate at which that is happening compared to what The Journey is getting is pretty dramatic.

“Meet people where they are” is cliché.  But, as much as I shy away from it, it applies here.  A guy with tattoos and spikey hair isn’t going to walk into a conservative Mennonite church looking for salvation.  He isn’t.  Nor is a single mom with two kids and a live-in boyfriend.  It’s not going to happen.  As a matter of fact, neither is likely to walk into ANY church building, because it’s uncomfortable.  They feel inadequate.  And/or they don’t see the need … maybe they think they’re doing “fine” as they are.

People need Jesus.  If they will come to a place where the preacher guy wears jeans and a bright plaid shirt, great; I’m all for it.  Free coffee?  Even better.  Unconventional?  A bit.  And the next generation is depending on it.

- Karly Casey

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¹ By the way, my childhood baseball hero’s birthday was two days ago, but I’m not even identifying him here, because he’s proven himself so unworthy of any more attention in this life that I don’t want to be the one to give him any more!

² “Conservative Mennonite” might also be known as “black bumper Mennonite,” as opposed to “color TV Mennonite” on the one side of the spectrum, and “Amish” on the other.

Voices: yeah … no (993)

The problems with the clergy-laity system are a) centuries old and b) pandemic.  Most of my disputes with this system run pretty deep and are long-lived,¹ but this particular rant is rather shallow.

Having recently visited a church I’d been a member of years ago, in which one preacher had filled the pulpit for about 50 years, I suppose it was inevitable that, soon after, I saw two articles about other, way-too-long-term preachers.  (These things seem to come in multiples.)  First, the man I once knew.  Then, another octogenarian, celebrating 50 years with the same church.  And then a feature article about a guy who was with one church more than a quarter-century and with another church in the same city for 10 years.

This man is surely a wonderful man, with a good heart and a love for God.

But he is quoted as having said … and, you know, everything has the potential for being quoted out of context … but, get this:

Church growth must begin with the preacher.

Yeah . . . NO.

Oh, my goodness. . . .

First off, the term “church growth” is loaded, and I don’t accept its chock-full package as entirely worthy of discussion.  Sure, the growing of churches is likely a good thing — at least potentially so, for some churches grow merely in an opposite reaction to the decline of other churches, which fact makes the growth rather moot.  Numerical growth in terms of overall congregational “membership,” then, may be good but also may be neutral.  Spiritual growth is not quantifiable.  In my experience, “church growth ‘experts’ ” focus almost exclusively on quantifiable data.

Even if one accepts (or ignores as loaded) the term “church growth,” the notion that “growth much begin with the preacher” is ludicrous on at least two levels.

1. First, the presence of a preacher is required by no biblical text that I know of, and this fact negates the “must.”
2. Moreover, I would assert that if either spiritual or numerical growth is preacher-driven, it is growth that is not going to last. 

Preachers, of course you should keep growing and not become stagnant.  (This self-evident truth may get at the speaker’s intent more than the ripped-from-context quote.)  My rant here is in no way intended to ignore the human tendency to become stale.  I have had good models in staying current in one’s discipline, including my grad advisor Ken Singleton, who, for instance, annually updates his repertoire list with new, good music, refusing to do anything but grow.  Preachers should do similar things, studying new books and documents and Greek and methods, etc.  But really, preachers, don’t be deceived into thinking that you should function as the center of things.

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P.S. to the Christian Chronicle:  I chose not to read this article in depth.  It’s a matter of time and priorities for me.  But let’s think about the big, bold quotation at the top of the page for a moment.  Couldn’t you have chosen a better seven-word quote to pull out for highlighting?  Surely there were better, more on-target things that he said!  :-)

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¹ Grandmother Kathryn Ritchie (1909-1988) taught me that “long-lived” was originally pronounced with a long “i,” as in “dive.”  I have trouble saying it that way now, because everyone thinks it’s wrong.  Often, taking the less popular way ends up being right, right?

Expected answers (992)

As I begin this essay, I’m watching a master at work.

At the performance, two days later

He is a musically gifted conductor with a long-developed, international reputation, and an artist I’ve had the honor of working with in more than one symposium.  He, like all the rest of us mortals, has a pedagogical crutch/quirk or three.  The one I’m thinking of hasn’t hampered him much, but I still notice it:  he has the habit of asking a very specific type of closed-end question.  He just queried, for instance, “Trombones, at D, I need a little bit of what?”  The “what” is a blank he’s ostensibly asking for help with, but there is only one right answer, and everyone in the room knows it.  As I said, this little teaching crutch works fine for this master conductor, but it’s a minor irritant for folks like me who dislike feeling like a blind sheep,¹ so I resist it.

I’m more bothered, though, by expected-answer word formulas (incantations?) that play a part in so many churches — of a) the mainline protestant, b) the more evangelically oriented, and c) the Roman Catholic varieties.  If a responsive reading or some such is specified thoughtfully and theologically soundly, it’s not so bad (although rarely truly inspiring for me).  What I react more negatively to is these:

1. “The Word of the Lord” ==> “Thanks be to God”
2. “God is good” ==> “all the time” // “All the time” ==> “God is good”

Taking those in reverse order:  I definitely do affirm that God is good all the time; I just don’t care to parrot that truth with a covey of other parrots.

And, regarding the first incantation, I might or might not believe that what was just read in church constituted “the word of the Lord” more than “the word of us.”  If I perceive it to be more employed as our word than as the Lord’s, I’m hard-pressed to recite “Thanks be to God” with the same enthusiasm.  Why my negative cast here?  Because the “thanks be to God” utterance, at worst, could be tantamount to shading the light around God’s throne by highlighting some human misappropriation.  In other words, I want to be sure that it’s truly God’s voice speaking, as opposed to some stilted, misapplied, or irrelevant phrase masquerading as God’s word.

So, whose word was it?  I suppose there’s no solid answer, because communication can be complex, especially when there are many people in a room.  Determining whose word it has just been may involve

• consideration of the reason(s) the particular passage was selected (be careful not to be too suspicious … and also be careful not to be too gullible!)
• awareness of the passage’s literary and/or historical context
• assessment of the relative scriptural literacy and spiritual maturity of the group

(Generally, the more literate and mature the perspective, the more a passage may legitimately be separated from its context without misunderstanding.  The more developed the group, the greater the possibility that the passage might be well applied even when not heard in its context.)

Even if scripture — of which I hold a very high view — is used well, I retract from the call for expected answers.  I simply don’t prefer them.  They don’t thrill my soul.  They don’t ignite my passion or inspire me to worship more richly or to live more devotedly.  Those of you who are more trusting by nature, and more captivated more by large-group dynamics may naturally feel otherwise, but I offer these critical, introverted thoughts to help round out your thinking.

And now, with thanks for their existence and acknowledgement that their imperfections are minor, back to music and masters that do thrill my soul. . . .

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¹ Feeling like a blind, helpless sheep — as though I have no initiative or insight in myself —  is to be desired and avowed when Jesus is the Shepherd.  Since I repudiate the notion of apostolic/papal succession (!), though, having a “pastor” ask this kind of thing of me is far less appealing.

Not just “before a fall”

Often on this blog, I pick and poke at specific segments of Christendom — sometimes meandering on side roads, or through suburbia’s labyrinths, and only occasionally venturing into the “urban areas” of Christianity.  This particular post, however, rides a double-decker bus, merges onto an eight-lane superhighway, and screeches into a mega-city:  Here, in referring my readers to the “simple church” blog of Roger Thoman, my aim is to propagate his indictment of a whole bunch of us who dwell in the same vicinity.  The linked essay-ette below is short.  Go ahead — click on it:

Religious Pride

(Thoman also offers a free, pretty short book via his blog.)

In the event that you, like me, don’t take time to read even the short posts that comes your way, allow me to extract a quote from the blog linked above:

“Subtle religious pride is so deeply ingrained in most of us that it’s difficult to wash out.”

Hear, hear.  This word — one of uncomfortably intense judgment — takes as its antidote a humble profession of submissive discipleship, ably worded by A.W. Tozer, and aptly quoted by Thoman:

“Make me ambitious to please Thee even if as a result I must sink into obscurity and my name be forgotten as a dream.”

No matter the particular path we travel, it is inevitable that we will intersect with someone (me? you?) who thinks too much of himself . . . someone who habitually approaches issues and situations pridefully.  Pride doesn’t only “goeth” before a fall; it goeth, period.  (Now, if you read my next post, or a particular one I’m working on for next week, in which relatively minor aspects of the status quo are challenged, please know that I don’t think I have all the answers.  I do like to challenge time-tested, but not necessarily biblically based, traditions.)

Lord, foster poverty of spirit in us as we work in Your kingdom—the greatest reason for boasting ever.

To no real (good) effect

Consider these human enterprises:

• Intentionally fouling an opposing basketball player when your team is down 10 pts in the last minute of the game
• Arguing w/the ump after an “out” or “strike” call
• Sprinkling an infant in a religious ceremony

I don’t recommend spending time in any of the above activities, because not a one of them will have any real results for the people directly involved.

Real (4): covering, style, and content

As though I hadn’t done this enough already, I’m gonna commence to “preach” again — to a crowd that is probably not reading, making what I’m about to say pointless. . . .  

This first admonition is to all the vocalists in “worship teams” (why the ever-present sports reference?) and “praise bands”:  if you’re really in touch, all “realed up” and sensitized to your contemporaneity and communications, you won’t cover your face with a microphone.  To me, covering your face with as much of the mic as possible is analogous to wearing a hood over your head when a) it’s not cold and b) you’re not outside.  Obscuring your face with the mic makes you look like you’re hiding something.  Yeah, it’s a style thing, and style is always related to taste.  I get that, and I’ll be outvoted on this by all but the stodgiest of my friends (my age or younger).  I still think covering some of your communicators up, when you’re supposed to be communicating, makes little sense.

P.S.  I searched pages of Google’s “pop singer” images and never did find an example of what I’m talking about. (But I think you, my readers, will know.)  Apparently, singers and Google both know to choose better images — those that display the entire face.  On a whim, I searched “rap artists” and found these.

Back to music style now. . . .

A few months back, a younger acquaintance recently commented on the so-called “worship wars” and mentioned a time frame of the last decade.  Given his age, his perspective is limited to about a half-dozen years of actual experience, and he wisely expanded that by a few years to be inclusive of history he has not experienced.  My timetable’s length is more than double his when I speak of style changes in worship and assemblies.¹   I have experienced about twenty years of what he thinks of as ongoing for only ten; moreover, I’m aware that style changes were afoot before I personally became involved and attentive.  Style is always with us.  (Ever heard that John Calvin [I think it was] outlawed “those Geneva Jigs” that others might have called “spiritual songs” — because they weren’t in his favored style and didn’t have strictly biblical texts?)

I have little comparatively little concern over contemporaneity in music.  Although I don’t go out of my way to be archaic, whether an expression is hip or in any way current is far less important than whether its content is relevant to people.  Real people — those who live real lives and are more concerned with real situations than a surface-level “keep it real” might indicate — will be drawn to meaningful, genuine content.²  I recently came upon some unfamiliar hymn words that struck me as very meaningful, although a couple centuries out of date in terms of the surface-level style.  What do I do with that discovery?  Well, not a lot, really, but I surely wish more people would be more interested in such good content than in mere style.

What do I mean by good content?  Well, just like style, content is sometimes in the eye of the beholder.  Check out the words below from Bob Kauflin, a contemporary song writer, describing an album he and his group had produced.  Here, Kauflin draws attention to content over style:

Many of the lyrics on this CD were written long ago by men and women who loved God deeply and wanted to give the church tools for knowing and worshiping Him. So they wrote hymns. We want to benefit from and emulate their example.

Hymns focus on rich lyrical content, giving us a feast for the mind which leads to a feast for the heart. The music and melodies may change to communicate more effectively with each generation, but the biblical truths they proclaim remain constant and must not be lost.

The word “hymn,” often associated with supposedly moldy songs of past centuries (in other words, labeling age and neither style nor content), is better used to describe

• musical style
• lyrical content, and/or
• form

… as opposed to merely commenting on how old the song is.  These days, quite a few “contemporary hymn writers” such as Kauflin and the Gettys and Stuart Townend, are standing up to advocate good, “hymnlike” depth and quality, and I applaud them.  They are writing what have been called “modern hymns for the church.”

I trust that the closure of this mini-series with some lyrics that are rich in content will highlight some truly worthy thoughts.  The excerpts below come from several centuries, including the last couple of decades.  These communicate real truths and relevant, God-honoring worship and edification for any generation.  At times, style-consciousness may lead to updating a few words and some of the music.  But, as Kauflin says, “The biblical truths they proclaim remain constant. . . .”

Lord of all being, throned afar, Thy glory flames from sun and star;
Center and soul of ev’ry sphere, yet to each loving heart how near!
Lord of all life, below, above, Whose light is truth, Whose warmth is love,
Before Thy ever-blazing throne we ask no luster of our own.
- O.W. Holmes, 19C

By faith we see the hand of God in the light of creation’s grand design,
In the lives of those who prove His faithfulness, who walk by faith and not by sight.
We will stand as children of the promise;
We will fix our eyes on Him, our soul’s reward,
Till the race is finished and the work is done,
We’ll walk by faith and not by sight.
- Keith Getty, Kristyn Getty, Stuart Townend, 21C

O Thou fount of blessing, purify my spirit, trusting only in Thy merit.
Like the holy angels who behold Thy glory, may I ceaselessly adore Thee, 
And in all, great and small, seek to do most nearly what Thou lovest dearly.
- G. Tersteegen, 18C

O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my god and King, the triumphs of His grace!
- Charles Wesley, 18C

In beholding the glorious Son,
My eyes see the Magnificent One,
And His splendor, as bright as the Sun,
Reveals me:  I am undone.
- Brian Casey, 20C

Jesus, Thy name I love
All other names above.
Jesus, my Lord.
O Thou art all to me.
Nothing to please I see —
Nothing apart from Thee —
Jesus, my Lord.
-  James G. Deck, 19C

How deep the Father’s love for us! 
How vast beyond all measure – 
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
- S. Townend, 20C

Father and Friend, Thy light, Thy love beaming through all Thy works we see.
Thy glory gilds the heavens above, and all the earth is full of Thee.
Thy voice we hear, Thy presence feel, while Thou, too pure for mortal sight,
Enwrapt in clouds invisible, reignest the Lord of life and light.
Thy children shall not faint nor fear, sustained by this delightful thought:
Since Thou, their God, art everywhere, they cannot be where Thou art not.
J. Bowring, 19C

From life’s first cry till final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
- K. Getty and S. Townend, 21C

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¹ Worship is primarily a verb and should be conceived of differently from “the assembly” (gathering or meeting) of Christians.  Neither is “worship” synonymous with what is so often called “the service.”  Worship and service are certainly not the same thing, and the historically attested, yet conceptually illegitimate use of the term “service” doesn’t even enter the picture here.  A few prior writings in this topical area reside here, here and here.

² Transparently, I would add that I don’t always feel the same way when dealing with Bible translations as I do when in the musical arena.  I don’t have much patience with outmoded, oblique, obscure wordings when we’re trying to study scriptures, but I think there’s a bit more value to the aesthetic and artistic quality of song lyrics.  Artful wordings tend to be heavier on aesthetic beauty than on trendiness.

Real (3): relevance and participation in singing

Relevance in church gatherings is sometimes overrated — at least, relevance as commonly understood.

Various aspects of church and church gatherings could be discussed in terms of whether or not they manifest relevance.  Since I am a professional musician and a longtime (read:  since I was 10 or 12) careful observer of church music habits, successes, and pitfalls, I’m opting for music as the specific subject area here, in this next-in-series post on being “real” and relevant.  (Please read the last two posts for background thinking.)

Is it possible that style in music is too important when people are trying to be relevant?  I mean, when churches that want to be “real” and “seeker-sensitive” get their heads together to decide what music is going to sound like in their gatherings, don’t they think about style before anything else?  On the surface, this seems a good line of thinking — I mean, skinny jeans and contemporary decor def give u good style points (as does my texter spelling there), don’t they, and that goes a long way toward hooking a seeker.¹  I don’t discount that style is important.  I just think it’s not the only thing.  In considering church music within the context of being “real” and “seeker-sensitive,” it is important to distinguish between style and content.

But first:  a matter of the harp.  (By that I mean something I harp on every now & then!  See here and here for more logistical considerations and background.  These prior posts are both about the same length; one is more “brass tacks,” and the other is more “from the heart.”  Or, just stay with me here!)  The next section constitutes a rather substantive “aside” that I hope will not be ignored.

Whether the songs are familiar, somewhat familiar, or unfamiliar, more people can sing if there is music notation.  When there is no notation available, you’d better provide a lot of background texture of some sort.  Otherwise, unfamiliar music is especially uncomfortable and/or leaves out the uninitiated (seekers or otherwise).  Now, make no mistake:  at The Journey in Newark, Delaware, there was a lot of background texture!  In fact, the last time we were there, we were treated to a kind of head-banging performance version of “Carol of the Bells,” with three rockers front-and-center before things got really going.  :-)  For those with sensitive ears like me, earplugs are in order, but it’s “real’ to assume that most seekers out there already have hearing damage from their earbuds and subwoofers, and they’ll probably connect with over-loud music.

There will probably always be something in me that feels deflated when I’m sitting in yet another church gathering in which someone has taken the lazy path by just projecting the words.  Words-only (or simply singing from memory) can work for a few songs that are “favorites,” and I do think it’s OK to “leave out” a visitor in some activities, since the church gathering is for the church, not the unknown and often indescribable visitor.

But, if words-only is all a church ever does, it’s ill-advised, careless, and really, downright inexcusable.  We ought to realize that we are a more advanced society than ever, and there is simply no reason — technologically, societally, or sub-culturally — to assume we are all dumber than people were in the 1700s and 1800s and 1900s.  They all had notated music, and we would do better if we did, too.  It is not “musically elitist” to display music along with words.  As a rule, projecting the music allows more people to sing more confidently, whether they realize it or not.  The technological tools we have available (CCLI‘s SongSelect and The Paperless Hymnal, for example) make this quite easy, and not really much more time-consuming than displaying lyrics only on PowerPoint slides.  I am not, therefore, advocating that all churches need hymnals.  (Hymnals still have their place, and some of you middle-aged folks might be surprised at the broad range of stylistic preferences of hordes of twenty-somethings, but that’s beside the current point.)  I am saying that contemporary, seeker-sensitive churches have just as much reason to display (at least) the melody lines on their screens as the more traditional churches have either to project four-part harmony or to continue to provide hymnals in the pew racks.  Pretty much EVERY literate person benefits (some, only subliminally) from seeing the musical notations.

One undeniable trend in all singing churches is this:  the more we distance ourselves from notation, the less people in the seats will sing.  Personally, 1) I am flat-out mentally unable to sing a song I don’t know unless music notation is available; and 2) I can contribute vocally pretty well on a song I don’t know if I have the sheet music, hymnal, or projected notation available.

Another undeniable trend in a cappella churches:  the more years that transpire without music notation as the norm, the closer the congregation edges toward musical extinction.  You can do church without music at all, but I’ve not met the church that intends that, and no one seems to realize that they’re hurtling down this path to oblivion unless they change courses.  You see, if there are no instruments to carry things, notation is even more essential, for without it, there is nothing but a bad, rhythmically scattered rendition of a poorly remembered melody from the last time people heard the song on the radio, by some — which was it?  the 3rd or 4th? — group that covered the song.  Confusion quickly results.

Within the context of analyzing for the relevant/”real,” we have to admit that it’s a little weird for anybody but Girl Scouts and churches to sing together in a group.  (“Kum Ba Yah” is a great song, really, but it has often been the butt of jokes, showing that group singing is counter-cultural.)  It is no more relevant to the world out there to sing with lyrics-only than it is to sing with projected music notation or hymnals.  Group singing is pretty much out of style, and we simply have to major in offering relevant content within the songs we do sing in church.

With all that said, I would acknowledge that the “heartfelt energy level” of the singing at The Journey was a bit higher than at many other contemporary churches with a lot of instrumental texture.  (It was probably a bit higher than in most a cappella churches, too.)  They have something corporately energized going at The Journey.  But more often, in my experience, loud instruments inspire

• hero worship (as with groupies and rock idols)
• mumbling and half-hearted singing (as in most congregations)
• silence (with some, no matter where you go)
• the insertion of earplugs (as with me)

Loud instruments, then, would tend to discourage participation with any real personal dynamic.  But not always.  For instance, a relatively young, derivative organization in Searcy, Arkansas called Sons of Thunder recently almost single-handedly restored my faith in the ability of a “praise band” to inspire the congregation to pour our their hearts.  I surmise that assembly energy has more to do with the group’s health as a whole than with the particulars of the music.

Next:  The last post in this series comes in two days and deals with covering up the eyes, style, and content.

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¹ Don’t for a moment think that that “hooking” is reelly my line as a fisher of men.  But we must admit that hooking people is the way that some church salespeople think.  Sit there in your church row(boat) singing “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,” and think about it for a moment, and you’ll reelize that something smells fishy, which makes you stop singing bass.  You’ll get that sinker feeling.  Then, just cast off and move on.  But don’t listen too closely for pitch; it’s very difficult to tuna fish.)

Real (2) — doctrine and practice

I’ve been aware of so-called seeker-sensitive churches¹ for perhaps 20 years.  I’ve always thought that was a worthy goal, but have come to accept that being seeker-sensitive is elusive and even over-rated.  Every church I’ve ever visited has been “churchy” — inherently not “real” and not seeker-sensitive, and therefore not attractive to most outsiders.  To some extent, being “attractive” equates to being “real.”  (No one really likes fake.  No one is deeply drawn to facades and veneers.)

I remember my very good friend Greg, when “pastoring” (or perhaps attempting to pastor, in my non-pastor-driven-paradigm church), trying to probe some of the congregation’s practices.  I took it that he wanted us to examine some of our particular veneers.  Impersonating a non-existent visitor, he challenged, ”Why do they sing like that?!” (perhaps especially targeting those who had never been in another denomination’s²  gatherings).  We needed to realize how odd we were in the singing arena — not necessarily to change things there, but at least to realize who we were and what outsiders’ impressions could be.

There are many aspects of a congregation’s identity and praxis that deserve some introspection, too, and maybe some scrutiny.  Not every specific should be tenaciously guarded.

Believing the above, although I have been lonely at many points, I have continued to probe my religious heritage.  I believe the inheritance of the Stone-Campbell movement — and actually, it can no longer be classed a “movement” — is worthy of love and respect, although it has veered off some of the better courses it originally set for itself.  (If you didn’t at least scan footnote #2 when its number came up above, would you please do so now?)

It strikes me now, in considering and writing about “real,” that an intersection of the doctrine and practice of 1) “The Journey” and that of 2) a run-of-the-mill Church of Christ congregation might be instructive, if not intriguing.  So, here, I’ll paste in The Journey’s web statements and offer commentary from a CofC perspective.  The CofC, as some of you know, doesn’t have a standard “faith statement” or creed — although “vision” and “mission” statements, plus some thinly veiled creeds, have been cropping up in bulletins and on websites for years.  Truth be told, there’s a tacit set of doctrines that could be seen as a baseline “creed.”  We just don’t generally hold them forth as such.³

Onward to The Journey’s “faith statement.”  I’m no theologian and not even much of a church historian, but I have enough experience in the CofC to formulate a few responses to some of this.  The original statements will be in bold; my comments will be in italics.

1.  The Journey believes that God is infinitely creative, so we express our faith in infinitely creative ways.  We’re Spirit-led without being weird and mission-minded without diluting the message of Jesus.  We’re not scared of culture or seduced by it. Our approach to church isn’t traditional, but our commitment to Jesus shapes everything we believe, say, and do.

The CofC would say most of that these days, but the nicely qualified “Spirit-led” wouldn’t have been a CofC phrase until the 70s or even 80s.  Many congregations today would still shy from such a statement, irrationally fearing that attributing leadership to deity would be tantamount to denying scripture’s instructional place.  ”Hogwash,” you say?  Yep.

Not diluting the message of Jesus would resonate with most of “us” in the CofC, and congrats to The Journey for claiming, and doing (based on my limited experience), just that.  

The CofC is typically much more “scared of culture” than The Journey, and has tended not to be seduced by it.  In other words, The Journey aims to hold these two in appropriate tension, whereas the CofC has traveled the more counter-cultural path more often.  Now, to be counter-cultural can be evidence of either a scaredy-cat or a courageous man, and I’ve seen both.  Inasmuch as I’m on target here about the relationship of acknowledging and using culture (acculturating?) on the one hand, and seduction by culture on the other, The Journey is clearly more balanced.  I would also hazard that it is more relevant than most CofC groups, although perhaps not without a culture-related pitfall here & there.

Further on the “traditional” concept:  I find a sense in most CofC congregational leaders that “traditional” is not all that bad.  Some think they’re not very traditional (most of these are, anyway, no matter what they think), but whatever … most of them go through their church stuff sitting and standing comfortably within RM tradition — and in some ways within mainline Christian tradition, as well.  ”Traditional” almost always, at some point, collides with “relevant.”

2.  We believe God has given us a book (the Bible) that is true and can be trusted. It was written by men but inspired by God – and every part of it points to Jesus.  Everything that’s described below may be helpful, but when the dust settles, the Bible is our statement of faith.

This statement would meet no disagreement in the CofC.  I myself would pick at minor points:  1) the Bible is better described as a library of various books/documents, not as a single book; and 2) I might have opted for “written by men who were specially inspired by God.

Pickiness aside, the idea that the Bible is the ultimate guide for faith and practice, seen here in updated, more understandable wording, certainly constitutes common ground for these two groups.  And oh, how I wish more churches would get serious about this principle.

In the eyes of cynical seekers, belief in the truth of the scriptures might smack of blindness, i.e., not being rational or real.  This is where “real” must take a back seat to relevance, though, and The Journey does a good job of not retracting.  To believe in the truth of the scriptures is to believe you have something authentic and relevant to offer people.

3.  We believe in God.  He created everything, including you and me.  He is all-powerful, all-knowing, everywhere-present and worthy to be loved with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind.

Again, no disagreement here.  (Well, OK, grammatically speaking, I take exception to the notion that we all have one collective heart, soul, mind, and strength; I would have put that in the singular or left out the “our” altogether.)

4.  We believe God is revealed fully in Jesus, who was born of a virgin, lived a sinless life, died on a cross for our sins, and was supernaturally raised from the dead.  This planet hasn’t seen the last of him.

Standard stuff, adhered to by most evangelical (not necessarily mainliners; some of those are out of the closet with their theological liberalness these days) Christians.  ”Supernaturally” is a good word that gets at the heart of the matter, neither clouding it with the word “miraculous” nor skirting it by not mentioning the resurrection at all.  I particularly like the second sentence and think Paul and Jesus would smile at it, too.  This is at once an engaging, “hip” expression and a biblically true one.  Way to go, Journey.

5.  We believe the Holy Spirit is God in his power and presence, drawing people to him, saving us, and empowering us with gifts to work for him and fruit in our attitudes and relationships that testify to him.

I’m very impressed by this statement.  I infer, first, a wise, spiritual openness to the miraculous working of God.  Second, I perceive a stopping short of requiring that one must accept that God works now just as he did when initially confirming the deity of Jesus (in, say, the years 33-63 or so).

I find nothing in this statement that most thinking CofCers would disagree with.  To argue that the Holy Spirit is a definable “third” of the “Godhead” — which The Journey does not do here — is always scripturally a bit tenuous, but to affirm that the Holy Spirit is God at work is requisite to biblically based faith and practice.  

6.  We believe all human beings are spiritually lost, wandering around trying to make sense of this life and consistently messing it up.  Only through Jesus can we be found, and this is very much what God wants.  If we submit to Jesus’ leadership as Lord, we will be saved; if we continue on our own path, we will end up separated from God forever.  This is something God does not want.  That’s why Jesus came, and it’s also why…

First sentence:  check.  Second:  check.  Third (“If we submit …”):  big check.  Hold that thought, and skip the rest of this paragraph if you’re not interested in the Stone-Campbell Movement or the Church of Christ.  The phrase “if we continue on our own path” could be found in many conservative, dyed-in-the-wool CofC sermons, as the preachers attempt to paint a simplistic picture.  In other words, they want pew-sitters to believe that it’s all very easy:  1) if they continue on their own paths, left to their own devices (read:  the devices of other religious groups or their own misunderstandings of religion or the Bible), they are hell-bound.  And 2) on the other hand, if seekers will simply accept the RIGHT path (read:  the one that lines up with my opinions and interpretations), everything will be fine.  Let alone that the bulk of the given CofC preacher’s interpretations might be biblically sound; this sometimes amounts to little more than arrogant posturing.

Much better to do as The Journey has done, calling attention to Jesus’ leadership.  Leadership is a word I haven’t often seen in connection with “lordship,” and I find it both helpful and relevant, although it would be a trifle light if not accompanied by the theological underpinnings of what it means to have a Lord.

Style points there, by the way, with the ellipsis that leads the reader to #7!

7.  We believe in the church. It’s a community where people can find Jesus and follow him fully. The church isn’t perfect, but Jesus its leader is. God doesn’t want us doing this spiritual life in isolation; that’s why he created the whole church thing in the first place – and he’s still totally committed to it. The church is incredibly important because we have a much better chance of succeeding in our spiritual journey when we’re surrounded by other people who are moving forward in theirs.

The CofC would go with this, mostly.  Although on paper it would agree, it might not have thought to emphasize the imperfection of the human church.  Often, the CofC has been found (and can still be found) calling attention to its rightness, its supposed doctrinal purity.  Again letting alone that there are many right things in the CofC, and, I happen to think, more than in most other religious groups, it is downright repulsive to brag.  The CofC should get over its insistence that it is “right” and merely keep trying to restore, to reform, to draw ever closer to God’s revealed will.

The Journey gets an A for #7 (and really, for the entire series of statements).  It’s attractive to acknowledge that the church is imperfect and to call folks to community.  It’s also compelling to portray God as “committed” to church in this age.

In my next post, I’ll share some thoughts about the reality of music in The Journey church and in other, would-be seeker-friendly churches….

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¹ I’m leaving the ill-begotten “seeker-targeted” and “seeker-oriented” labels alone.  ”Seeker-sensitive,” however, is either neutral or good.

² Still … STILL, there are many in the Church of Christ (or Churches of Christ, or churches of  Christ — take your pick — they are used interchangeably) who stubbornly refuse to believe it is, in point of fact, a denomination.  I don’t expect ever to sacrifice the scripture-based ideal in my heart — that there be no sectarian denominations.  The Lord’s church transcends this humanly conceived, and humanly perpetuated, group.  I happen to believe that many — perhaps most — who call themselves members of the Church of Christ are also part of the Lord’s universal church.  But, c’mon, guys, reality is that the Church of Christ, even without an earthly HQ, is a Yellow-Pages-identifiable sub-group.  It has many other hallmarks of a denomination.  Its denominational language and the obvious loyalties of some of its adherents betray its status.

³ It is not my purpose here to advocate for creeds.  Far from it.  I think creeds run the risk of superimposing man’s mob-mentality word on top of God’s.

Keepin’ it real

I s’pose the notion of keepin’ it real is important to most of us.  And it’s more valid than this phrase’s association with less-than-desirable elements of society suggests.  In other words, just because hoods and hoodlums in hoodies use the phrase doesn’t mean the idea is bad.  To be “real” is to be relevant, honest, and genuine, right?

For nearly as long as I’ve been aware of so-called seeker-sensitive churches,¹ I’ve thought the descriptor represented a worthy goal, but apparently not a readily attainable one.  I mean, every church I’ve ever visited (a good number — score and scores, if not hundreds) has been “churchy” in one way or another.  Being “churchy” seems inherently not “real” and not seeker-sensitive, right?

It’s more than a tad ironic that each of the churches I’ve visited has probably thought it was fairly, or even extremely, seeker-sensitive.  Churches’² opinions of themselves rarely resemble the public’s opinion of said churches — rendering the churches’ self-generated opinions fairly useless.  (Footnotes³ in a blogpost are also fairly useless, but sometimes they help to eradicate parenthetical expressions [except in this case].)

The real question for would-be seeker-sensitive groups to consider:  how would a church go about being attractive to those outsiders who might show up, actively seeking what a church has to offer?  Being attractive doesn’t equate to being real, but the two are related.  No one really likes fake.  No one is deeply drawn to facades and veneers.

Knowing this, a church in Delaware takes as its slogan “real church for real people.”  A church in rural New York tries to attract outsiders, as well.  One succeeds more than the other, in my estimation — if success is tied in any way to the name of the church, at least:

• In DE, the name “The Journey” (“Your Journey” in its URL) seems inherently honest to me.
• In NY, the name “Joy Community Church” strikes me as off-putting to real people with real lives.

It’s not that people don’t want joy.  It’s that real life doesn’t consist entirely in joy, and if I’m feeling seeky or needy or searching, I’m not going to be drawn to a group that erects a joy facade to hide behind.  Few people experience joy as a life-motif, I’m convinced.  So, leaving that NY group’s pretense aside (c’mon, stop humming “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart . . .”), let’s talk more about the first group.  It’s the one I’ve actually visited, and it does “real” pretty well, in my estimation. . . .

The DE church, which my old friend Bob had invited us to visit when in town, is called “The Journey.”  And what about this metaphor of the life-journey?  It’s a cliché, and I sometimes tire of the surface-level interest in the so-called “Christian walk” or “faith journey,” but “journey” really is an appropriate simile.  Undergirding this idea, we have a prominent figure of speech in the gospel of Mark:  following Jesus on the way.

I would here inject a reference to a couple of prior posts on Mark’s content:

• http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/02/05/epic-2/
• http://blcasey.wordpress.com/2010/05/29/mark-wrap-up-2/

These both mention the centrality of following, of walking.  Authentic discipleship may well be summarized as “following Jesus on the way.”  The individual believer’s discipleship is to be seen as eclipsing inherited membership & institutional establishmentarianism.  Not only is “walking Christianly through life’s journey” a realistic descriptor for the contemporary mind; it’s also a biblically apt metaphor.

Now, back to real response and analysis. . . .

All the while at The Journey, I’m sitting there considering my real-life journey, because of the name.  Then as I drift in and out of awareness of those around me, I’m thinking thoughts like, “I wonder what that guy’s journey has been like” and “Is that guy hearing the same way, and making the same applications for his journey as I am for mine?”  There’s something relevant about making church gatherings tie in to the real living of real lives, and speaking in terms of “the journey of life” is one way to tie in.

The Journey has until recently been renting its facilities.  I think that if a church is large enough to need a building, renting is the way to go.  It’s less wasteful.  The Journey’s facility has been an office-type space in an industrial park, which strikes me as “real.”  The group is preparing to inhabit its own facility (seen at left) for the first time this coming weekend.  Although I wish the group had spent its money on something else, I have to give it credit for a) using rented facilities for years and b) not going into more debt to build anything new or elaborate, but rather, purchasing a pre-existing, vacant facility.  If The Journey had continued renting, it might have been even better, but I wish it well and trust that it will do good things in its more visible, larger structure.

Also at The Journey church, there is a “lead” (not “senior”) pastor.  I don’t know that this label has anything to do with sensitivity to less-churchy seekers — out in the world of workplace hierarchies, we find ample use of both terms — but I like “lead” better.  At my age, I figure I’m allowed to have some simple preferences (and will leave it there, not complaining about the ubiquitous, non-biblical use of the word “pastor” right now.)  ”Lead” seems to speak of function within a group more than calling attention to age or position.  It communicates relevance and not stodgy hierarchianism.

Mark, the lead pastor, is not referred to with the paradoxically irreverent label “reverend,” a ghastly vestige of Latin/Roman origins.  Inviting ears to attune to his message rather than appearing to demand that respect be shown to a titled position, Mark connects his own real life and inward feelings to that of “average Joe.”  In my (admittedly spotty) experience, he does this convincingly and without facade, also connecting these human experiences to biblical narrative and imperatives.  In the lobby, I see Mark doing the preacher thing a bit — meeting and greeting, you know….  But I observe that while Mark is thinking about, and talking to, those who might be “seekers,” he is all the while naturally moving back and forth between dealing with them and with those who are already disciples.  Mark’s name, not incidentally, does not appear on the church’s “business cards” or on the sign in front of the building.  I had to look all the way into the podcast section of the website to remind myself of his last name.  Admirable!  It’s not about him; it’s about everyone’s lives and souls.

An official “greeter” starts things off in an upbeat vein as the assembly gets underway.  While this is mostly unnecessary for a temperament and get-down-to-business head like mine, I recognize that it helps most people to feel good, and the greeter serves this function well.  Other evidences of being “in touch” with real life include provision of protected children’s environments and pretty good coffee.  Coffee at church is also a cliché these days, but since you can’t avoid it, you might as well offer it (and tea, and maybe hot chocolate) in an attractive atmosphere.  Add to all these things the general sense that friends are talking all around the lobby, and the considerate, all-too-often-ignored “visitors excepted” clause when an offering is taken, and you have a pretty inviting, seeker-sensitive church gathering.

I’ll soon share 1) The Journey’s “Who We Are/What We Believe” statement, and 2) a bit about the reality of music in The Journey church and in other, would-be seeker-friendly churches….

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¹ Here, I’ll leave the ill-begotten “seeker-targeted” and “seeker-oriented” labels alone.  ”Seeker-sensitive” can certainly be a good thing, but church gatherings are for the church, after all, not for the seekers.  Orienting “church” to seekers is counter-rational by definition.  Other methods and events might well be considered for drawing in seekers.

² It’s been a long time since I harped on misplaced apostrophes.  See this post for some fun.  Just this morning, I read this “quote” of Acts 9:16 in an e-gram from a highly educated, respected editor/theologian:  “I will show him how many things he must suffer for My names’ sake.”  Now don’t go gettin’ all Christian-markety on me and say that God has many names.  He really only has one.  Anyway, I don’t think the other identifers/descriptors of God were in the picture there in Acts.  It should have read, “I will show him how many things he must suffer for My name’s’ sake.”

³ It’s also been too long since I used footnotes in a blogpost.  I once asked, in a physically posted print, whether anyone read my footnotes, and Randall responded, “I read your footnotes,” but he may be in a small crowd.  :-)

Kick it

“Kick it with your toes.”  

- advice from bad soccer coach in the movie Playing for Keeps

Even as a non-soccer player, I didn’t think that was right.  A few seconds later in the movie, when my suspicion was confirmed, I thought, “Hmm … advice given by someone who doesn’t know whereof he speaks … welcome to my life in church pews.”

I’ve heard a lot of bad advice given from pulpiteers and other officials.  There is way too much ineptitude manifest by public leaders.  But after my own preachment comes a confession. . . .

Although many are giving advice as bad as telling 8-year-old soccer players to kick the ball with their toes, it is neither spiritual nor wise to do what I’ve done:  I’ve pretty much turned off advice from professional religionists.  Maybe I’d do better not to block the “channel,” but rather, to be discriminating in my listening and viewing.  There are still a few decent coaches out there who not only understand the basics but can even help me move beyond them.

Experienced in large churches

Some aspects of church gatherings are related to the group’s size.

Pacing.  As a musician, I notice musical elements pretty much wherever I am.  The tempos of worship and prayer songs stood out to me recently:  when songs are sung 30-50% too slowly, the music’s character seems lifeless; the mood may be compromised, if not the intended effect.  In large a cappella churches, at least, tempos almost always end up too slow, because it’s really difficult to move a mammoth.  Other  activities may also be on the slow side, too, but mostly, I think it’s the corporately active ones — namely, singing.

Where are you now?  When someone visits a large church with which there have been past associations, there are some notable, if common, experiences.  Recently, for instance, several people have asked me, “So, where are you now?”  This simple question comes out of historical relationship and also grows out of the one side’s dizziness at all the folks who return to their big-church sanctuaries/auditoriums at one time or another.

The relational reconnectings have their charm, and they do point up some good aspects of Christianity, horizontally speaking. However, speaking as one who returns to roots, not as one who generally stays close to the tree, I tend to be distracted by the prospect of recognizing, and being recognized by, old friends — to the point of hardly being able to concentrate on the person I’ve already found — because my glances are always darting around for the next person!  For me, this is one of the hazards of visiting in a large church where people return, seasonally, for this or that reason.

Ushering.  Another occurrence in a large church is ushering.  Now, there are many good people in churches serving as ushers. Periodically, some handicapped folks do need help getting in and out of the building, and in overflow situations, the usher is the guy who coaxes the latecomers to the front, where seats are still available.  For me, though, the ushering enterprise represents officialness and big business.  Instead of facilitating seating and such, for edification and worship, the usher makes me think I’m in a corporate meeting, subject to official protocols.

Attendance counts.  Ushering and the “So, where are you now?” question both have their redeeming qualities.  In my estimation, worse than either of the above is counting.  Hovering and scanning the pews while the assembly is in progress, counting people in the pews, for the sake of the corporate records, has long been a bother for me.  I don’t complete attendance cards of any sort, whether I’m a visitor or a regular.  I figure, my need not to be a cog in a corporate-church wheel eclipses any real need the church has to know that one more person was present and accounted for.

Call me a curmudgeon for feeling this way, but I can’t conscientiously support the concern of church officials over numbers, amounts, and surface-level trends.  These are not what church is to be about.

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Addendum:  after this blog was posted, I recalled something else I’ve noticed.  In a large church, there seems sometimes to be an undue emphasis on the “lineup”  of public leaders.

1. Pete Peterson will have our song service.  (All but the name is verbatim here.  What is it to “have” a song service?  And what is a “song service”?  What odd lingo….)
2. Our first prayer will be by John Johnson.
3. Our scripture will be read by Thor Thorson.
4. Our prayer before the sermon will be by Jack Jackson.
5. And our sermon will be by Evangelist Joseph Josephson.
6. Our announcements were by yours truly (is this the player/coach?), Rich Richardson.

And I ask you these questions:

• For those present who didn’t know every person in the lineup already, did they really care?
• For those present who did know, did they need to hear the names?  Why?  So they could say, “Oh, good.  I love it with Brother Jackson leads prayer” — focusing on the leader and not the throne of God?  Or maybe so they could say, “Oh, shoot.  That Brother Thorson always stumbles.  Why do they get him to read?”  And that begs another question, but I’ll save that for another time.

MWM: special songs

[This is an installment in the Monday Worship Music series.  Find other, related posts through this link.]

A couple nights ago, we sang a few special songs with a group of friends:

• Jesus, Wonderful Thou Art (in which we worshipped the eternal Son)
• Into My Heart (in which we invited Him within)
• Be Still, My Soul (in which we expressed our trust)
• It May Be at Morn (in which we longed for the parousia)
• Lord, Speak To Me (in which we prayed for the Lord Jesus to fill us until we overflow, so that we tell his love)

And I ask you:  aren’t these all special songs?  In a real sense, every song in a Christian gathering should be special music.  Why sing a song unless it is special?

Many churches have developed a lingo that separates the solo song from the rest of the musical worship material.  Bulletins may list “Special Music” during or just after the offering.   “Who’s singing the special today?” is heard by many involved officially in musical leadership/offering.  If one isn’t careful, she could begin to think that “special music” should be more attended to than congregational music.

The “special music” lingo does indicate a good thing — congregationally oriented music as the norm.  Even as musical literacy in churches declines rapidly, it is good for churches small and large to continue to “major” in the large-group mode of worship.  It is engaging, fulfilling, and God-intended.

And wherever professional musicians call the shots, it would be good for a greater number of believers to show how energized they can be in lifting up voices from the pews (or theater seats, or whatever), as we did again yesterday morning:

This the pow’r of the cross
Christ became sin for us
Took the blame bore the wrath
We stand forgiven at the cross

W&M by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend
© 2005 ThankYou Music

Long live the singing of Christians.  Whenever two or three are gathered. . . .

Vertical/horizontal redux

Yesterday’s guest post clearly identified two “umbrella” aspects of the Christian Assembly.  The “vertical” is the worship, while the “horizontal” aspect consists not in God-oriented worship but in people-oriented activity.  

↑↔

This essential delineation seems so clear, so true … and yet elusive for so many.  Check out this excerpt from an article by a recognized religionist/theologian in Worship Leader magazine:

Our worship should have a diaconal concern, a ministry to the sick, the poor, and the suffering (Acts 6:4).  It should have a teaching ministry for children, and the teaching ministry for mature theologians.  - Hughes Oliphant Old

Dr. Old speaks of good things, of worthy things.  He’s right to speak of serving, or “diaconal” work, fleshing out engagement with those with special needs.  He’s also right to point to Acts 6 as a kind of charter for some of this activity.

But he is not right in assuming those things fall in the category of “worship,” and he may, like so many others, have a concept that everything that occurs during the announced Sunday morning hour constitutes worship.  (No, it does not, and it should not.)  I am led again to believe that one reason for confusion in various spheres has to do with institutional investment in the status quo.   If we didn’t have such institutional needs to have our various programs, we might just understand that worship is worship, and service is service, and the two are distinct.

The breaking of bread, that is, the celebration of holy communion, should be a regular part of our worship (Acts 2:42).  - H.O.O.

Dr. Old is on target in encouraging communion/the Lord’s Supper, although not as thoroughly accurate with his proof-text use.  The “breaking of bread” in Acts appears to have little connection with what we think of as communion today; the expression “breaking bread” appears to have been related to basic table “fellowship” at a meal.

Now, if we go the whole distance and realize that the Jesus-memorial of “communion” was not originally an official, church-program ceremony but probably was more often a part of table fellowship, well, then, we’re onto something again in terms of worship.  It is highly advisable to remember the Lord’s sacrifice while fleshing out some of its implications in the second “body” — those siblings who are with you around the table.  Communion can function as a bidirectional aspect of the Christian gathering:  it is at once vertically and horizontally oriented.

Voices: righto wackos, past prophets

I thought I’d heard it all.  Put a couple of these down in the record books. . . .

• On Veterans’ Day, a church in Pennsylvania sang the national anthem in the regular Sunday church assembly.  Then they paraded military veterans in front of the church to have them tell military service stories.
• A “church lady” (apparently otherwise rational, not the old SNL kind) carries a handgun in her purse, as a matter of habit, and isn’t even slightly embarrassed about it.
• This woman’s husband actually placed a target in his front yard with the sign “You are now in open range.”  (Wanna bet he thinks the “Great Commission” applies missiologically to everyone, for all time?  Wanna subsequently guess how he would reconcile his stark threats to shoot trespassers with his belief that everyone else is going to hell?)

All pretty solidly “Republican” things to do, those.  In response, the relatively involved, moderate-Democrat Christian who told me about this asked, “Will we have to start bringing voter registration cards for validation at church, before we’ll be allowed in?”  What a great question!  I, too, have sensed the palpable, divisive effects of political stances’ being articulated within the church.

Allow for a moment — as I allow always — that politics has no place in the church gathering, and that U.S. political parties are exceptionally conceptually divisive.

Can you see that the man who (in his hyper-NRA enthusiasm) threatens to shoot all passersby in the name of the right to own a gun, has become imbalanced in the name of political conservativism?  I’d go further and say his political affiliation has run amok, to the point of potentially dividing the Body of Christ.  (In other words, he’s a righto wacko.)

Hear now a different voice — one from the distant past.  In 1889, David Lipscomb wrote, “Human government had its origin in the rejection of the authority of God.”  I think Lipscomb spoke prophetically.  Not miraculously so, but he spoke for God.

There are those who might think Lipscomb was too focused on the slippery slope — i.e., on what happens when the worst governmental extents become realities — and not enough on God’s ability to use a human government.  But think again.  Think about the Christian people you know and love who are on the other side of the political fence from you.  How annoyed, how incredulous are you with them for not seeing politics the way you do?  Nothing may rightly divide believers.  Not gender, not ethnic background, and not political party (to re-appropriate Galatians 3:28).

This is not about a lack of trust in God, Who can obviously use, or not use, human government as He pleases; it’s about not pitting allegiance to one political system against another.  Christian siblings, we must not let rightist (or any other political) agendas destroy the unity that the Spirit of Deity created.

For another post on the topic of patriotism in church gatherings, see here.

Twelve for 2012 (2)

[ ... continued from here]

Inherently, the modus operandi of quasi-prophetic, interrogatory verbalization runs counter to long-practiced norms — and to a good many beliefs tenaciously held by the masses.  For this disequilibrious endeavor I will make no apology, but if I ever seem to be fighting the individual’s independent, sincere pursuit of Almighty God and His eternal kingdom, I sit ready to be corrected.

In my last post, I listed an initial, six things I would do in, to, and for the earthly, western church of the 21^st century, if I had the ability.  These had to do with sects and structures, the clergy role, and scriptural moorings.  The ramifications of some of these items are broad, and I’m fully aware of the audacity of some of them.  In order to be clear about my human fallibility, I am presenting my list of twelve items in half-twelve lists of six, the “number of man.”  The total number — a nice, round, “biblical” one — has more reference to the current calendar year than to biblical completion:  here, although I touch on several matters I consider crucial, I make no claim to being exhaustive.

Below, then, is the second group of six things I would do in, to, and for the earthly, western church, if I had the ability.  These six concern (1-2) relational dynamics, (3-4) concepts of worship and of the Christian gathering, and (5-6) understandings of beginnings and continuations.

1. create small groups and other home gatherings where they do not already exist
2. inject a more apt understanding of the assembly (for starters, not thinking of it as a “service”)
3. infuse a deeper understanding of the nature and extents of worship — neither a) considering it to be singing or as confined to a musical style preference (e.g., so-called “worship music”), nor b) superimposing liturgical notions of “service,” thus obscuring worship
4. balance reverence with familial informality — establishing a patently respectful, informal (although not a casual) approach to worship and other church activities
5. cause an acceptance of the biblical place of the believer’s immersion in clothing oneself with Jesus as Savior — thus identifying fully with His death, burial, and resurrection (as a result, eradicating residual trust in such items as infant sprinkling, the incantational “sinner’s prayer,” and institutional church affiliation)
6. instill a solid, long-lasting, far-reaching concept and practice of discipleship, as opposed to false security in hereditary church “membership”

Not all the twelve items (the ones above, plus the last six) are of equal importance, but they are all important to me.  They don’t represent the gamut of need within Christendom; there are other areas that need attention, as well.  I don’t claim to be all that circumspect or insightful — only ardent for pure Christianity where I find its current iteration tainted.

While the list of twelve items may contract or expand with the passing years, I have given these enough thought, through enough time, that I expect them to remain with me, to some extent, until I die — or until the Son returns to claim His own.  I do not believe m/any of the items will ever come to pass, in any appreciable measure.  In the circles in which I have influence, however, God giving me life and influence, I am resolved to encourage the absorption of these and other aspects of biblically well-founded Christianity.

Twelve for 2012 (1)

Caveat lector:  Despite my deep-and-wide-spreading neo-protestant roots, I don’t want to be a tree made of hard wood that never sways with the refreshing breezes of God’s Spirit.

I do intentionally strike a posture of challenge toward any nominally Christian element that seems not to emanate from scripture.  Plus, I’m relatively comfortable with speaking sincerely, earnestly, even prophetically (although NOT miraculously so! – I claim no special revelation, only attentiveness to the witness of God’s inspired spokesmen of old) for God and for pure Christianity.

The M.O. of quasi-prophetic, interrogatory speech necessarily counters long-practiced norms, and a good many beliefs tenaciously held by the masses.  [To friends and acquaintances who tolerate and/or love me anyway most of the time:  is this introductory elaboration helping to illuminate?]  I make no apology for speaking against cults, various human hierarchies, and merely tradition-based denominational tenets, but if I ever seem to be battling the individual’s sincere, independent pursuit of Almighty God and His kingdom, I stand ready to be corrected.

Several months ago, I was led to think anew about the tone of some of my blogposts—thus the verbal groundwork laid above.  I had actually started this piece before the beginning of 2012 but was unsure about it.  I’m still unsure about the thrust of a few items.  Although some question remains about certain extents, my reluctance stems more from insecurity over the reception of what I’ll be saying.

We’re now almost finished with 2012.  Although originally planned for 1/1/12, this post is now scheduled to be broadcast at 12:12 on 12/12/12.  Nice number, huh?  The ramifications of some of the items below are surely broad, and I don’t present them, deluded, as “gospel.”  I’m fully aware of the audacity of some of them.  In order to frame them clearly as humanly fallible, I’ll now present these items in half-twelve lists of six, the “number of man.”

I would like to present these somewhat incendiary thoughts with a special invitation for feedback.  Responses I receive may be used in, or as, follow-up posts, so if you write privately, please confirm whether you want to remain anonymous if quoted.  Perhaps we can have some valuable discussions—whether openly on the blog or on the backchannels.

Here, then, are the first six things I would do in, to, and for the earthly, western church of the 21^st century, if I had the ability.

If I could, I would

1. instantiate exegetical Bible study methods into every Christian church
2. morph sermons, with their “points” and jokes and poems, into studies with scriptural exegesis at their core
3. abolish the “pastor/minister” role altogether — this role (not to mention its attendant hierarchies) is an unknown entity in New Testament writings, and although many of these individuals clearly do good in our day, the harm inherent in the position and its ramifications is not insignificant; perpetuation of the institution is contra-indicated, although many of the persons currently in such positions could serve well in other roles
4. inculcate the principle of the Bible as “the only rule for faith and practice” — and this would necessitate a) ridding ourselves of superimposed creeds and “faith statements,” and b) abandoning residual loyalties to articulate, more or less charismatic non-specially-inspired personages, whether past or present
5. eradicate all traces of denominational pride and loyalty (if not all evidence of denominations, period)
6. sell most of the church buildings in the country, leaving only the ones used several days a week for Kingdom business and neighborhood service

To be continued . . . my next post will list the remaining six items. . . .

Proskuneo and latreian (4)

This post is the 4th (and probably the last, for a while) in a series about worship and service.  Proskuneo and latreian are two key biblical words (Greek antecedents) that can aid our understanding.

A new friend has recently commented, suggesting that Jesus’ depiction of worship in spirit and truth (John 4) is not exactly a positive highlighting, viewed through New-Covenant lenses.  If I’m reading him correctly, he believes that the inner faith-response to the singular act of Jesus on the cross constitutes the only “worship” indicated under the New Covenant.  I’ve never heard this shading before but have been thinking about it.

It appears to me that Jesus, as reported by John, was calling the woman to something a) not bound by location and b) genuine, true.  Both aspects may stand in contrast to Jewish worship of the time, but especially so in the first case.  Since as a Samaritan she was not exactly in the “in” crowd, perhaps Jesus was suggesting to her, by saying “in spirit,” that she could worship despite her lack of Jewish access to the temple.  This worship would not consist in temple service or in Jerusalem at all.  It would be, said He, homage-communication of the spirit, and it would be true — not feigned or dissociated from reality.

The genuine/authentic/true component of Jesus’ statement could also be conceived of as contrasting with then-current Jewish corruptions.  I’m not saying this is THE way to read it — only one possible way to read it.  Subjunctively stated, then, it would sound something like this:

“Woman, your worship doesn’t have to be like that of the Jews:  it could now exist regardless of Jerusalem, and could be engaged in more authentically than is typical, in the midst of the Jewish stuff these days.”

(Aside:  no matter whether I’m on target here, or how much any reader might disagree with me, we must all categorically reject the idea that the “in truth” part of the phrasing has anything directly to do with the CofC’s [or any other group's] views on “correct” acts in the church assembly.  Not that “correctness” isn’t important, but this text has nothing to do with it.)

There’s really not much about worship in the gospels or the letters.  I take it that the early Christians just worshipped and didn’t find the need to write about it so much, but I acknowledge that it’s logically possible for worship to have been less a priority in, or almost absent from, Christian gatherings.  Possible, but not likely, I’d say.

On the horizontal, “priestly service” side, Hebrews certainly seems to corroborate that Jesus’ sacrifice is the true, central replacement for the latreuo or leitourgeia of the Old Covenant.  (No more animal sacrifices!  Jesus — once and for all!)  But this unique honoring of our Lord’s offering doesn’t negate the offering of ourselves described in Rom. 12.  Hebrews passages — taken separately or conjoined with the entire New Covenant corpus — do also place Jesus at the core, philosophically and theologically.

Connections with 1st-century synagogue practices have been used to justify some elements of Christian worship that I don’t find valid in the New Covenant.  Coincidentally, I’ve just reviewed an issue of Worship Leader magazine in which so many assumptions are made along the lines of the “history of Christian worship” that I couldn’t keep up with my own question marks in the margins.  It’s hard to trust the thinking of public leaders and venues when so few seem to be able to distinguish between biblically implied/suggested/commanded things and historically, traditionally practiced ones.

As an example:  there is no biblical blueprint for a corporate assembly, despite the supposed plan propagated by, e.g., the late guru Robert Webber.  According to him and many others, the “authorized way” is something along these lines:

1 – gathering in (or the call into) the outer courts

2 – hearing the Word in scripture and sermon

3 – responding to the word

4 – going out to bear witness

I find no such pattern stated in scripture; to infer this pattern is to superimpose mankind’s tradition.  In any event, almost paradoxically, the above layout seems to emphasize acts that are not, strictly speaking, worship.  The subject treated seems to be “the service,” as developed by institutional Christianity, ant not worship per se.  The four-point structure deals more with overall conceptions for Christian responses and the living of life.  It’s not wrong to use such a pattern for a corporate so-called “service,” but it smacks of the Old Covenant to legislate said pattern.

To any who think worship is contra-indicated in NC scripture (younger believers, these people do exist, and many of them are quite sincere), I would say this:  I don’t see that vertical worship communication (the proskuneo variety) was snuffed out with the cross.  It further seems that some expressions of, e.g., the Psalms are enduring, not obsolete.  Furthermore, doxologies such as those found in Philippians 2, Ephesians 1, and 1 Timothy 1 strongly suggest that first-century Christians were giving vertical, reverent, adoring attention to the Christ.  In addition, the example of the woman of Luke 7:36 appears as a striking example of a very literal act of spontaneous worship (proskuneo is, roughly, bowing and “kissing toward”) honored by Jesus.  Although shedding tears and wiping one’s feet with long hair should not be viewed a paradigm for all time, it is certainly presented positively in the narrative.  If this example were to be scoffed at, I would think Jesus, or Luke (ca. 40 years later) would have framed the woman’s action negatively.

In sum, at this juncture, I believe proskuneo is both assumed and indicated under the New Covenant.  I believe the same about latreia(n).  One is vertical, involving reverent homage shown to a greater being; the other is horizontal, effectively substituting service acts toward others for Old-Covenant animal sacrifices and various Levitical acts.  While there is certainly a spiritual connection between the two (proskuneo and latreian), the concepts are distinct, and we do a disservice to both the ideas of worship and service by amalgamating them.  This is obviously an oversimplification, but I trust that it helpfully delineates.

Below are links to some previous posts on worship and/or service.  Especially if some of the above is muddy, I would invite you to read past essays on related topics, and comment where you find me off-track (or where you agree).

Synagogue Worship as Model

Priorities (Hebrews 13)

Worship and Service: the Worlds of Awe and Anxiety

A Paramount Worship Text — John 4

Truly

Truly and Spiritually

Worship – Ritual v. Relationship

Proskuneo and latreian (3)

I’m thinking still about worship and its Koine Greek antecedent word-concepts.  From Roy Lanier of yesteryear, fast forward a few years.  [This post continues thoughts from two days ago.]

Max Lucado once exhorted, “Live your liturgy.”¹  In reading that, the high-church liturgists may feel validated, and we all may feel somewhat justified in continuing our patterns when we read Lucado’s words.  After all, pretty much all of us have liturgies.  Yet I think the point was that discipleship through the week is also significant.  If we could be more consistent, things would be better.  Here’s my extrapolation on Lucado’s admonition:

Achtung!

If you’re going to do worship in Q style, live in that style.  Or if you worship in Z style or Y style, live in that style.

You might think there would be more connection between life and the unimportant (in some cases, silly) liturgies pretty much all of us experience on a weekly basis.  From mountain church to sea-level church to rolling-hills church — it doesn’t matter how “high” or “low” your tradition is — our corporate patterns are, way too often, just so much fluff.

And we fiddle while Rome burns.  Our lives are pathetic.  We really don’t live “up to snuff” (that’s redneck for “consistent with standards”) with any of our would-be-transformative Sunday “worship” activities.

Something needs to be re-calibrated.  We could either cease trying to engage in so-called worship activities, or we could try to bring the other 117.5 waking hours a week into harmony.

Essentially, some cognitive consonance in this sphere would be nice — and highly advisable from the eternal perspective.

Now, to move from the inspirational-yet-human to the specifically God-breathed . . .

Romans 12 tends to come up in worship discussions among enlightened Christian-types.  Romans 12, however, does not deal with worship, strictly speaking.  The noun here is not “proskuneo.”  It’s “latreian,” a cognate of “latreuo” which speaks of sacrificial ministry (think animal sacrifice, then transfer that to the NC).  The Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (“Little Kittel”) reports these bits:

• latreian is used 9x in the Septuagint (Greek Old Testament) and “refers generally to cultic worship”
• a connection exists with OT priestly service and douleuein (general service)
• in the ancient Philo’s writings, this word is said to “embrace the ministry of virtue and spiritual service to God” — wonder if the oft-cited Philo is why some English versions translated “logiken” as “spiritual”?

Etymologically related to the above, the root latron means, roughly, “to work for reward” and “to serve.”  This, friends, is an idea quite distinct from the meaning carried in the word proskuneo, which means “kiss toward.”   Proskuneo connotes bowing, obeisance, and reverential homage shown toward another, greater being.

The expression in Rom. 12:1 is logiken latreian; logiken is a relatively uncommon biblical word and could be said to have spawned our word “logical.”  Latreian is also uncommon in this particular form.  Its basic meaning is “service rendered for hire, ministration,” and it further is said to be related to the likes of Levitical priestly service.

Robertson’s Word Pictures  gives this further insight:

Which is your reasonable service (ten logiken humon latreian). “Your rational (spiritual) service (worship).” For latreia, see on Romans 9:4 . Logiko is from logo, reason. The phrase means here “worship rendered by the reason (or soul).”

I think Robertson may be affected by church tradition here in linking “service” with “worship”; I do not not see anything directly vertical, i.e., human-to-God, in Rom. 12:1.  I rather think Paul is suggesting that offering ourselves becomes, rationally (or even figuratively?) speaking, the New equivalent of Old priestly service.  Logiken ≈ logical ≈ rational, and latreian ≈ horizontal service, not vertical worship.  Assuming I’m right, this verse is not about worship per se but is about Christian living more generally.  Worship, after all, was never halted, but animal sacrifices were.

Paul is saying, I am convinced, that when we offer our whole selves to God, the resulting “sacrifice,” so to speak, becomes the equivalent of the priestly service that is no longer a part of how we approach God.

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¹ Here, although I highly doubt Lucado had this level of zing in mind when he wrote his phrase, I’ll acknowledge my bias against the high church.  The disconnect between corporate worship and life is exaggerated when the corporate worship is in a dead language.

By the way, the term “high church” is inherently questionable, as though other ways and means exist on a lower, undignified plane.  This reminds me of another inherently questionable term:  ”Reformed.”  Yeah, I know that things needed drastic reforming in the time of Luther and Calvin, but the use of “reformed” today seems to imply a progress, a development, a reformation that no longer reflects the situation.  Today, there is not just one church institution that is reforming, or that needs reforming.  We all need reforming — certainly including the “Reformed” ones — and many other groups at least make efforts at reforming along the way.

Proskuneo (2)

So many ideas on worship, and a few do have biblical foundation. . . .  (This post continues thoughts from a few days ago.)

Eighteen years ago, the Christian Chronicle surveyed a few American Restoration Movement leaders of various, shall we say, bents.  I retained at least one response that surprised me positively, on recent re-discovery:

. . .  Worship rings out of the fountain of the soul and heart–the springing out of adoration, praise and thanksgiving to God. . . .

The internal man must be involved. You can worship internally without doing anything external, but you can’t worship externally without involving the internal.

Worship is intentional. You cannot worship God accidentally. It must be an intended act. [editorial emphasis--bc]

We only worship vertically. It is something we do in communication, adoration and praise toward God. . . .

God is not our buddy. He is deity; we are human.  Let us go back to the fact of how awesome is the majesty, power, grace and love of God. . . .  We must beware turning the worship of God into more of a pep rally than the awe-inspiring worship of the Almighty God.

- Excerpted from  Roy Lanier Jr., “My Hope for the Church’s Worship” in “Worship Today: Six Leaders Express Their Views,” Christian Chronicle, 7/94. Reprinted by permission.

Mr. Lanier, if memory serves (and it well may not!), is someone with whom I would share a fair number of historical underpinnings, but whose ideas around church functionalities and Bible interpretation would often fall to the right of my own.  He does seem to have a good handle on worship, though!  Here, I particularly want to highlight that worship is vertical, i.e., between creature and Creator.  The horizontal “life” stuff is related, and does absolutely need to be harmonized, but is not worship per se.

Moreover, specifically on an expression that leads to much misunderstanding:  Paul did not write “spiritual act of worship” in Romans 12.  He didn’t write English words at all, and the Greek words he wrote aren’t normally, otherwise translated “spiritual” and “worship.”

May we get our ideas on all “God things” from the scriptures.

To be continued . . .