Who are my brothers and sisters?

Some time ago, LaGard Smith wrote a book on Christian relationships that proposed “levels” of relationship.  I never read the book in its entirety but saw enough of it to know that, at the time, I was not in sympathy with its import.  A quick skim of the reviews online reminds me that it was a “reaction” book, written in part to refute what Smith saw as a bad direction in Church of Christ circles.  Max Lucado was a target.

The main issue I recall having had was that Smith proposed five levels of Christian relationship.  (Smith’s term of choice was “fellowship.”)  The desire to codify and draw circles rather than to accept others’ non-central viewpoints seemed, at the time, to be overzealous and over-exclusionary.  I still don’t care for the circle-drawing exercise.  For better or worse, though, I seem to find myself dealing with such levels in my all-too-real life.  Here is my quasi-engagement with Smith’s levels, moving from the most restrictive to the most open:

1. I have no “congregational fellowship” at all now.
2. A rather small cadre of “conscience fellowship” siblings exists, and I don’t lean into them enough.
3. The group of “In Christ” people I know is large, and I should lean into it more, too, but it’s elusive, given geography and life concerns.
4. The “Faith Fellowship” level probably implies basic belief in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and a few other “core” doctrines.  This could be an area for growth, but I think I have a latent fear that if I think about this too much, even this level of Christian relationship will fade or become troublesome, practically speaking.  I’m OK for now with participating in some musical things at a couple of local churches, and enjoying generic faith statements, without too much pressure on them or me.
5. “Universal fellowship” with all humans as creations of God is significant and can come into play in such situations as helping the poor in general, or protecting an abused child, regardless of faith.

I imagine that Smith’s book appealed more to the middle-of-the-roaders, and I saw myself as a progressive Christian during the era in which the book was written.  Those to the right of Smith took grave exception to the very idea of having “in Christ” fellowship with those who were “in error” on other things.  To ponder that phrase now sends me into sharply critical mode, embarrassed by the self-righteousness of some of the people of my general heritage.  Fortunately, I’ve never been in a congregation that espoused that kind of thinking, although people’s visiting relatives and couple of outliers were sometimes culpable.

Some fourteen years ago, I recalled and wrote about an event in my life from twenty years before that time.  If you’ll read the two longer paragraphs at that blog link, it will both illustrate and connect to the last portion of the present post.

The synoptic gospels record that, at least once, Jesus spoke about family relationships, emphasizing spiritual connection instead.

Then Jesus’ mother and his brothers came. Standing outside, they sent word to him, to summon him.  A crowd was sitting around him and they said to him, “Look, your mother and your brothers are outside looking for you.”  He answered them and said, “Who are my mother and my brothers?”  And looking at those who were sitting around him in a circle, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers!  For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

The NET Bible version includes this paragraph heading just above that passage:

Jesus’ True Family

Such headings can be intrusions into the text, but I like that one and don’t find it misleading.  In some way, and to some degree, the Lord surely was emphasizing spiritual, mission- and partnership-based relationship.

I’m glad for closer relationships with my sisters over the last couple of years in particular, but I continue to be sad, or mildly hurt, or aghast (depending) at some of the extended “family” relationships in my life.  In the past, I had been offended and left hanging out to dry by some, but most of that faded or was corrected in some measure.  Yet there was more to come.  And now, when I think of those I truly love as family, I quickly think of those with whom I have a historical, trusting, tested, “in Christ” relationship, but not necessarily a “blood” one.

Essentially, water is thicker than blood.  Those “in Christ” with whom I share rich Christian relationship and experience really turn out to be the closest extended family members.  They are, in the most important sense, “family.”  And that struck me again just recently as I heartily wished a dear friend “happy birthday” (not being much of a birthday-observing person myself), while ignoring the birthday of a blood relative that was one day later.

So who are my closest family members?  I won’t call them all by name here, but many of them are related to me only spiritually, and that is an eminently close relationship.  Others have been just as close in the past.  And I want more of this kind of relationship, no matter how it’s designated or where I find it.  And I think that I too “have the Spirit of God” (a shamelessly irresponsible, textual cherry-picking!) on this matter.

Did somebody mention church monikers and orientations?

No, actually, I don’t think anyone mentioned these things in my hearing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about them.  Churches will probably always be catching my eye, if not capturing my heart.  It’s hard to get through a day without a thought—perhaps wistful or, likely, more negative—of one or more churches.  Here, I will not be not using the word “church” very biblically; I’m dealing rather in the sphere of denominating and denominations.

Earlier this month, while on a stress-reducing walk, I saw five or six adults standing outside a church building, probably just having finished a committee meeting.  As I approached on the other side of the street, two people walked away toward their cars and made it a point to greet me.  A few steps later, one who still stood close to the building also greeted me.  I did not really know any of these people.  I could not help but think that they were being friendly because they were, at that moment, connected to a church building.  They wanted to be good church people and look neighborly on behalf of the church.  If I had passed the same group outside a restaurant a few blocks away, when the same people were not functioning as arms of a recognized church, perhaps they wouldn’t have felt it incumbent on them to say “hello” to a stranger.  Is this line of thinking cynical of me?  Maybe, but it’s realistic.  I’ve lived too long and have seen and experienced too much.  (If found in a similar situation, I myself would have acted similarly in the past.)

I find a built-in falseness in such encounters, and I don’t find a lot of genuine meaning in anything that smacks of institutional church.  (This is no slight to the individuals, really.)  Despite that, and despite all the personal angst associated with churches, I keep thinking about them:

What type is this or that one? 
What leanings does it manifest?  Is it like the last one?
What are its leaders like? 
Does anyone seriously study scriptures there?
What dissidents might be within? 
Could I possibly find a home there?

And quite often, I think about church names.  Recent denomination-thoughts formed themselves into categories.  For starters, there are names that have to do with practices or perceived function, and also perhaps with the theology of their founders.

• Methodist
• Presbyterian
• Episcopal
• Congregational

Those denominational labels obviously connote far more than (1) method, (2-3) “presbyters” and bishops, or (4) organization.  Moreover, the connotations change over time.  A Methodist church in rural New York State today, for example, will not conjure up the same thoughts as a Methodist church in late 19C England.  The denominations’ respective practices obviously involve doctrine, to one extent or another, but the monikers of that group seem to emphasize pragmatics.

Nominally speaking, Baptist and Anabaptist names might be said to exist in the middle ground between function and doctrine.  On the other hand, some of the names below seem to be oriented to doctrine over practice or function:

• Lutheran
• Reformed
• Adventist[1]
• Wesleyan

At first blush, Mennonite churches would seem to be in the same category as “Lutheran,” in that they take their name from a person who espoused a set of doctrines.  However, in my experience these days, Lutherans are more attached to the person of Luther and to what he taught than the Mennonites are to Menno Simons.  Wesleyan churches seem more doctrine-oriented than Methodist churches, although they were both “founded” by John Wesley.

Some denominations give the spotlight to deity over function—in name, at least.

• Christian Church
• Church of God
• Church of Christ
• Church of God in Christ
• Disciples of Christ
• Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (on the surface, one of the best names there is, although the description is both verbose and deceptive)
• Community of Christ
• Assembly of God

Then there are the location-based splinter groups, such as these:

• Greek and Russian Orthodox
• African Inland Mission
• . . . and Wisconsin Lutherans or Missouri Synod Lutherans, plus any number of additional, splinters, further denominated by geography

Non-franchise churches are a mixed bag.  Some names seem pretty good (“God’s People on the White River” or “Faith Bible Fellowship”), while some (“Celebration Church” or “Family Life Church”) exhibit trite marketing, in my opinion.  And again, the focus here is more on the naming, not so much on the background theology, the pragmatics, or the people inside.  Of course there will be genuine disciples of Jesus in Roman Catholic churches, “methodists” (method-oriented people) in Reformed churches, “catholics” in Lutheran churches, and “baptists” in Churches of Christ.

“Community of Christ,” “Baptist,” “Congregational,” or other monikers can be meaningful, but each is also a potential barrier or a misnomer.  Despite the shortcomings of the Restoration Movement—and any movement will have them, and many are the people who will point them out—I’m still drawn to its ideal of being “Christians only.”

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[1] Goodness, what a mess in this branch. I just learned how many twigs there are. After the Millerite “disappointment” of 1844, it’s no surprise that there were a lot of splinter groups. They are not all Seventh-Day subscribers. The family tree even includes the Branch Davidians.  These do not seem very doctrinally unified, but they appear to hold in common idea of an imminent second coming (“advent”).

Locating and being “church”

Remember this?

“Here is the church”??  No, not really.  The lesson that distinguishes “church” from the building is one I’ve heard for so long that I can’t remember the first time.  “We are the church.”  This is why I still, almost to a fault, I always say “church building” when referring to the physical structure, no matter who I’m talking with.  I don’t use the expression “go to church” very often, either.

So what is church?  Where is church?  Voices from my past come to mind, but a new-to-me voice has just resounded with a similar message.  I have just watched the classic movie “On the Waterfront” for the first time.

The movie’s musical underscoring—at a few points, appropriately prominent—struck me as masterful, and no wonder, since it was composed by Maestro Leonard Bernstein.  But the acting and the dramatic story line would have been compelling even without musical support.  Here is a famous monologue (omitting the interruptions), spoken by a priest to the stevedores, after a mob-directed death of one of them:

Boys, this is my church!  And if you don’t think Christ is down here on the waterfront, you’ve got another guess coming.

Every morning when the hiring boss blows his whistle, Jesus stands alongside you in the shape-up.  He sees why some of you get picked and some of you get passed over.  He sees the family men worrying about getting the rent and getting food in the house for the wife and the kids.  He sees you selling your souls to the mob for a day’s pay.  What does Christ think of the easy-money boys who do none of the work and take all of the gravy?  And how does he feel about the fellas who wear a hundred-and-fifty dollar suits and diamond rings on your union dues and your kickback money?  And how does he, who spoke up without fear against every evil, feel about your silence?

You want to know what’s wrong with our waterfront?  It’s the love of a lousy buck.  It’s making love of a buck, the cushy job, more important than the love of man!  It’s forgetting that every fella down here is your brother in Christ.  But remember, Christ is always with you.  Christ is in the shape-up, he’s in the hatch, he’s in the union hall, he’s kneeling right here beside Dugan.  And he’s saying with all of you, “if you do it to the least of mine you do it to me.”  And what they did to Joey and what they did to Dugan they’re doing to you.  And you, you, all of you!  And only you, only you with God’s help have the power to knock ‘em out for good.

Here is a link to the entire speech, which occurs after a mob-directed death.

Truly, if we Christians don’t think we are the church everywhere, we are to be pitied.  (I’ll pass over the obvious issue with who in the movie is really a “brother in Christ.”)  As go the people, so goes the church.

Beyond the location of church and the identities of the people, the priest’s call for redemptive, purifying action is heard in this monologue like a trumpet.  And I, today in the real world, must hear that call.

 

 

Real words on real church

Suppose a leader wants to show others what “church” is all about.  He might have some great ideas, facilitate some good things, and analyze those well over the short term.  Still, “church” will seem incomplete at best.  (Isn’t it always lacking?)  I myself have wanted to show others what church is about, and I’ve not succeeded very much.  Each of us is a product of his experiences; every vision is limited.  Our values have, in part, been shaped by our respective personalities, emphases, and opinions.

About 15 years ago, I started drafting a charter for a new “church.”  (Here, please substitute small group of believers for “church,” a word that typically implies more organization and institutionalism.)  I revised that document from time to time, based on growing, changing emphases and understandings.  The vision has never amounted to anything and probably never will, but I still dream.  I still feel I know a few things church is not about, primarily:  doctrine, buildings, opinions on assembly procedure, and clergy/hierarchy.  But isn’t it more important for me to discern what church is?  Should it be . . .

A hospital?

A shed for grace and love to be stored and brought out once in a while?

A set of programs that feel comfortable and/or purposeful?

A charging station for the electric-car needs of all who’ve been racing down the freeway?

Church certainly shouldn’t be an opportunity for isolationists to bury themselves deeper, but it has been thought of as a haven.  Is that image sufficient?

I’m not so sure that any presumably advanced, contemporary manifestations and iterations of church are any better than your basic mainline Christian club.  (Indulge me as I revert to considering more of what church is not.)  Is it really that important if the latest, greatest speaker and the richest, most flavorful coffee and the most charismatic greeter and the best-organized parking lot ministry are combined for a great Sunday experience in YCCCoT?¹  First Methodist or Main St. Presbyterian or East End Christian Church might offer just as much nourishment, and I might find a beautifully devoted, exemplary disciple of Jesus Christ at Johnston St. Church of Christ or St. Paul Lutheran.  Coffee bar or not, contemporary music or not, great programs or not . . . church is more about helping disciples on their way in living loyally to God, honoring him.

There is in some sense, after all, a call—and that call might be easy for some to answer initially, but it is anything but comfortable to continue a disciple’s walk over the long haul.  An e-friend recently disseminated some provocative thoughts from respected writer John Stott.  I pass them along here:

The Christian landscape is strewn with the wreckage of derelict, half-built towers—the ruins of those who began to build and were unable to finish.  For thousands of people still ignore Christ’s warning and undertake to follow him without first pausing to reflect on the cost of doing so.  The result is the great scandal of Christendom today, so-called “nominal Christianity.”  In countries to which Christian civilization has spread, large numbers of people have covered themselves with a decent, but thin, veneer of Christianity.  They have allowed themselves to become somewhat involved, enough to be respectable but not enough to be uncomfortable.  Their religion is a great, soft cushion.  It protects them from the hard unpleasantness of life, while changing its place and shape to suit their convenience.  No wonder the cynics speak of hypocrites in the church and dismiss religion as escapism…  The message of Jesus was very different.  He never lowered his standards or modified his conditions to make his call more readily acceptable.  He asked his first disciples, and he has asked every disciple since, to give him their thoughtful and total commitment.  Nothing less than this will do.     – John Stott (1921-2011), via Bob Lewis

Seen on a T-shirt, July 2019

Surely church is nothing if not a group of devoted disciples, living loyally to the Lord.  And surely church is nothing if the disciples stay home.

Next:  More Real Words—on the “Strategies” of some successful church planting activities (from David Watson, adapted and selected by Galen Currah, Roger Thoman, and me)

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¹ Yuppie Christian Community Church of Today

Founders

Fords haven’t received much respect in my family.  I have never owned one, and I’m pretty sure my sisters’ families haven’t, either.  My parents had an Aerostar van for a couple of years, but I was more or less conditioned to Ford-aversion—which is interesting, because they’ve been around a long time, and such models as the ’65 Mustang and T-Bird are classics.  Contemporary Ford paint colors are the best, and founder Henry Ford, despite not being the inventor of the automobile, is justifiably an industry icon.

I cracked a new book the other day, and I immediately read this:

Henry Ford died, with exquisite irony, during a power failure on the dark and stormy night of 6-7 April 1947, whilst sleeping fitfully at his vast Dearborn, Michigan, estate. On the 9th, his body lay in state in his mansion’s cavernous ballroom while almost 100,000 people filed by to pay their last respects. The next day, 20,000 spectators gathered in silence, and in the pouring rain, outside St Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral . . . .

So begins the impressive, attractive book The Life of the Automobile:  The Complete HIstory of the Motorcar by Steven Parissien (St. Martin’s Press, 2013).  When I read the opening words about this integral figure in cultural and industrial history, I immediately wondered whether new employees of Ford Motor Company today are introduced to the company’s founder.  If this page is any indication, I’d guess that new employees probably at least receive some literature in order to give them some sense of the founder and the history of the company.

And what about churches?  When a person is brought into a church, is s/he introduced to the Founder and to the early history of the group?  Does the new person hear communication designed to connect a new person with the Originator?  Or is s/he merely made into a “member” of the organization, perhaps like new employees of most companies?

“Well, of course I am connected to Jesus in my church!” you say?  I sincerely hope so.  I still feel justified in throwing out this caution:  just because the name “Jesus” is mentioned a few times on Sundays doesn’t guarantee the connection to the Founder—the real, living Lord.

A half-full (half-empty?) term

I recently rejected as a possibility for our family a church called Bethesda Worship Center.  This church meets in a nicely renovated, older school building, and the inside is very inviting.  My college band may end up rehearsing there during a construction project, and the staff members I’ve met have been very nice, but I doubt we’ll end up visiting the church itself.

I was even drawn somewhat by the church’s name.  The meaning of “Bethesda” implies healing, recalling the pools of Bethesda (a/k/a Bethzatha) of John 5.  Although “Worship Center” is a bit one-sided for a church name, the lead pastor’s message does indicate that they also laugh and cry, so it sounded relatively balanced.

Anyway, everything was leaning toward a visit by our family . . . until one little two-word expression showed up:

full gospel

 

Now, if you’re anything like I was for the first portion of my adult life, you’re mostly oblivious to certain descriptive labels such as “reformed” or “full gospel.”  Even the implications of traditional mainline denominations’ names can be elusive or devoid of meaning that anyone really considers.

But “full gospel” means something.  Something misleading.  And it’s a shame to waste a decent term.  Consider this short list of misuses:

• The common use of “reverend” has robbed it of its truer meaning.
• The use of “reformed” implies that the group has done all it needs to do by way of restoring and reforming.
• The use of “Church of Christ” may suggest that it is the only group that could be possessed by Christ.¹
• And “full gospel” is clearly a misnomer.

Now, to the point . . .

“Full gospel,” in religious parlance, implies belief in, and practice of, supernatural “spiritual gifts” such as miracles and speaking in “tongues” (another misnomer, but we’ll leave that one alone).

The real, complete, full gospel (the ευαγγἐλιον [euangelion]) is the good message about the saving work of Jesus in His dying, His being entombed, and His rising.  That  is the full gospel.  Even if you accept the veracity of modern, “pentecostal” miracles (such as the supernatural speaking of unlearned languages and immediate, otherwise unexplainable healings), you have to admit that those are outgrowths of, or confirmations of, the gospel, and not the gospel itself.

I wonder, Bethesda . . . if I believe in the full gospel described in the scriptures but am by no means persuaded of the current existence of types of miracles you suppose do happen, could we coexist pretty well on Sundays, or not?

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¹ A particular CofC (which we will also not  visit) advertises itself in a free, local paper as “Thee Church of Christ.”  (That “Thee” was not a typo.)  They are going for two things here:  1) association with the thees and thous of King-James language, and 2) presenting themselves emphatically as thē only true one.  Good grief.  That was a bad idea in the 50s, and it’s even worse now.  It’s embarrassing to anyone with Christian perspective, but God can have mercy on the isolate folks in that group, too.

Are these your church’s stats?

Sometimes I wonder how many churches are really financially healthy.  The stats shown below are from the Sunday bulletin of a church we visited in May.  The numbers are different in each distinct church, of course, but I’m guessing the numeric relationships will look sadly familiar to many of you.

What I’m interested in here is the “blah”ness and disengagement that comes from churches’ not meeting their budgets and experiencing decreases is attendance.  I’m thinking that the discrepancies might say something about leadership and/or morale, in general.  Or maybe it’s just declining demographics and/or economies . . . some of which may in turn lead back to morale and leadership issues.

(I also wonder whether financial health can be correlated much with spiritual health, but that’s a tangent.)

Essentially, this little church bulletin caption looks all too familiar to me.

Oh, and one more thing: I’m convinced that the more organic groups, e.g., groups that meet in homes, aren’t characterized by the same kinds of number blahs.

The right side of the tracks

We see this building way too often when visiting family.  It is located in the N. Little Rock area.

What a wonderful tribute to a church’s decided move to the “right side of the tracks.”  What a convincing testament to the wisdom of the leadership.  What a glorious credit to the state of this church’s treasury.

Not.

It’s an embarrassment, actually.

Some Pentecostal or charismatic groups (Assembly of God, e.g.) are rather known for catering to the “other” side of the tracks.  Apparently, this church wants to be known for having arrived on the right side of the tracks, or it wouldn’t have built such an ostentatious building.

 

Signs

Below is some verbiage from church signs that comes specifically dis-, un-, non-, and in all other ways NOT recommended.

You might note that several of these ill-advised sign examples concern congregational worship.  I’ll make three advance comments about this proclivity to try to attract people by virtue of congregational worship:

1. If a church is trying to proselyte members from other churches where the worship part of things presumably isn’t as cool or exciting, shame on the proselytizing church.
2. If a church is under the impression that backslidden believers might be influenced by worship-related signage to say to themselves, “Hey, yeah, I really should get back to church attendance,” it might consider that worship isn’t the heart language of many of the backslidden.
3. If a church is trying to bring unbelievers in, it ought to be cognizant of the fact that outsiders aren’t thinking in terms of worship, either.  Messages about worship aren’t very likely to attract the unchurched.

Now, to seven non-wonders of this particular church sign revelation. . . .

“Exciting Worship”

Assuming that many inside this church think their corporate worship is exciting, I’ll bet I wouldn’t.  I might instead think, “Deafening would-be worship” or “pathetic-attempts-to-look-like-you-know-what-you’re-doing-and-are-in-relationship-with-God worship.”

“Come Worship with Us”

I’m dozing already, and I haven’t gotten out from behind the wheel of my car yet.

“Monthly Sermon Series on Sundays”

Think about it:  who is this sign for?  Potential visitors who are interested in something interesting  will avoid this church like I avoid a dead skunk on the road.  And regular members who already know about the monthly series are probably monotonized by said series already.  (Okay, that last statement wasn’t fair.   But I couldn’t resist.  For more on this particular sign, go here.)

“Praise Victory Church”

This kind of church sign seems passe to me now.  20 years ago, it was attractive — even fetchin’ — to use a label like this.  These days, it just seems old hat and shallow.

For starters, it conveys the false impression that victory is yours for the mere claiming.  Or, worse — that if you follow Jesus, your life should be happy or else you must be doing something wrong.

Yet more insidious is that a message like this tends to disenfranchise those who a) don’t feel like praising, b) don’t understand what praise is, c) have had their fill of churches who major in boisterous praise, d) don’t feel the need for a victory in their lives, e) have given up hope that “victory” can occur, etc.  Before you take me to task for not giving credence to the notion of bona fide spiritual victory based on the atonement, pause to consider the actual, likely reason the word “victory” is on the sign.  It’s not any deep reference to the Rider on the White Horse defeating the dragon; it’s likely just a feel-good, Osteenish thing.

ADDENDUM 6/23/14:  I came across an apt quotation from Walter Brueggeman, OT Theologian:

The problem with a hymnody that focuses on equilibrium, coherence, and symmetry (as in the psalms of orientation) is that it may deceive and cover over.  Life is not like that.  Life is also savagely marked by incoherence, a loss of balance, and unrelieved asymmetry.  In our time—perhaps in any time—that needs no argument or documentation.    – Walter Brueggeman, “Psalms of Disorientation,” in Spirituality of the Psalms

“B A Y   A R E A  Fellowship”

The letter spacing on this sign was so poor — and my orientation to Latin-derived vowels and the mention of Berea in Acts so strong — that I initially had no idea this sign was referring to the Corpus Christi Bay.  I pronounced it aloud within the confines of our car, and “Bay” became “Bye,” so it rhymed with “diarrhea.”  Whoops.

“Come let us test your ways and examine them”

I actually saw this on a changeable church sign, and I have witnesses.  I’ve seen a lot in my time, but it is beyond my comprehension that anyone could consciously post this message unless s/he had a death wish for a presumably comatose church.  It’s not that passers-by shouldn’t have their ways tested, and it’s not even that this church didn’t have some healthy, well-founded judgment going for it.  It’s that this is not a good idea to put on a sign.

“How To Be a Church Member”

This one happens to have appeared on a regularly changing sign that I pass regularly.  And I have observed that people in this church are pretty energetic and sincere, as a rule.  I even met this church’s head pastor, and he impressed me with his character and manner.  But “How To Be a Church Member?”  If this is what we’re conceiving and advertising, it’s no wonder no one is interested.  One thing that’s wrong with the institutional church is that it wants to convert people to it and not to Jesus.

Caveat:  it could very well be that the actual message spoken on this topic ended up meaty and biblically based.  In other words, maybe it was really about how to be a member of the body of Christ at large, rather than being about how to be fully functioning churchman in this particular local group.  In this case, I give the group points for being coy, but would seriously recommend that they get a new advertising agency.  🙂

Simple, yet profound

“Intimacy demands simplicity, and with all due respect to hymns filled with great theology, complexity is not what Scripture reveals as God’s personal preference.”

– James McDonald, Unashamed Adoration, in Worship Leader Magazine

With all due respect to the author of this article, I’m not sure he knows completely whereof he speaks.  Certainly, the language of some  hymnody is rather obtuse for today, but that is only a slice of the pie.  Many great hymns are simple — and yet profound.

Nor does everything we gathered (or solitary) Christians sing need to be simplistic, to the point of being on a 4th-grade reading level.  The beauty of well-used words and imagery can provide an effective vehicle for the soul.

In essence:  complex word formulations are probably not advisable, but deeply meaningful, well chosen, and even profound words may be very beneficial — and simplicity is often helpful, too.  I suspect God is pleased with most words used in worship when the words are sincere and understood/heartfelt.

I like “I love You, Lord,” but I also like “Like the holy angels who behold Thy glory, may I ceaselessly adore Thee.”

I would like “Take care of me, O God,” but I like “Keep me, O keep me, King of kings, beneath Thine own almighty wings!” even better.

I like “You’re my all.  You’re the best!” but I also like “God only wise, in light inaccessible hid from our eyes, most blessed, most glorious . . . Thy great name we praise.”

==> Please share examples of some of your favorite, God-oriented verbal images.  The musical style doesn’t matter.

Furniture

I ask the questions below not to preach or criticize or even head in a particular direction.  Rather, I want to probe a relatively surface-level aspect of church facilities — furniture — as a means of looking beneath the surface at values that may be implied by related choices.

What might it imply about a church and its values when the pulpit/lectern is the most elevated piece of furniture in the gathering hall?

And what if the table used for communion elements is later placed higher than the pulpit?  (Sub-question:  what does this say about the leader who pushes for the re-positioning?)

What does it imply if the table used for unleavened bread and juice/wine are stationed in the back of the hall?  Or if there are is no table at all?

What if the stage is large enough to hold a 40-voice choir and boasts five throne-like chairs for all the official leaders?

And if the pews are straight, facing directly toward the front, or if the left and right sections are angled slightly toward each other?

What if there are theater seats (and the lighting is dark)?

What if there are a) comfy chairs in the lobby/foyer/entry hall and b) hard pews in the gathering hall?  And if there are castoff pieces of living room furniture in the adult Bible classrooms and new, and brand new, brightly decorated furnishings in the children’s classrooms?

This is not groundbreaking stuff; the probing may have little eternal significance.  Still, these are questions that could be asked by self-assessing congregations with a view toward helpful insight into values and potential impressions made on those who meet together.

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.