A Worldwide Family of Faith

When the cruise ship pulled into the Bahamas we knew it was only for a short time. The gangway went down at 8:30AM and would be pulled up at 2PM. The 3400 passengers of the Carnival Glory wouldn't have much time to discover Nassau so, understandably, there was quite a rush to get off the ship. Kami and I weren't headed to the casinos at the Atlantis on Paradise Island nor were we going to shop the duty free diamond and liquor merchants that lined the docks. We wanted to find the church in Nassau so that we could worship on this cloudy, rainy Sunday morning in the Caribbean.

We'd found the address on the internet and written down the details so we thought getting a taxi would be a simple event. Wrong. The taxi drivers didn't know where it was so they called the number we'd also gotten from the Web and got directions from someone at the building. It would take three calls in all, two taxi drivers, and forty minutes before we were delivered to a medium sized white building in Highbury Park with the words "Church of Christ" written above its door. On the way there -- sometime between the second and third call -- the taxi driver turned to us and said. "We have Catholic churches here, right here on this block. How 'bout you go there? You don't get along with the Catholics?" I assured them that we thought Catholics were very nice people, but that we really wanted to find this particular group of believers, so he pressed on.

A lovely young lady opened the door and greeted us. She found out our names, gave us a bulletin, and led us into the auditorium to find us a seat. The brother teaching the class did a fine job getting others to speak out and offer comments. He greeted us with kindness and genuine warmth. While the building filled up for worship time we couldn't help but notice how many smiles were sent our direction. The young men and girls in front of us turned around during a standing song and hugged us.

At the end of worship, one of the elders stood up. His son had been in my congregation when I was in Morgantown, West Virginia. Sam Heastie was getting his doctorate in education at the time and was a wonderful friend and brother in Christ. To see his father stand up was a delightful surprise. Brother Heastie introduced us to the assembly and then told us that they had arranged a ride back to the ship for us. Two young ladies used their own car to drive us through torrential rain all the way back to the ship. They refused to let us buy them gasoline or lunch (the ride out cost us $20). Smiling, they waved us on.

This is not an isolated incident. All my life I have found refuge, friendship, and love anywhere I have found my brothers and sisters in Christ. I often wonder how people survive without a community of faith. Truth is, I know how they live. I saw the couples come back on the ship, angry at losing money, complaining about the weather, anxious to hit the bars. We came back walking on air supported by the love of those who love God.

The church -- what a wonderful gift! Those people who want Jesus but not the church don't have a clue at the blessing they are tossing away. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord and embrace the church.

Silent Time

From Friday morning the 21st to Saturday evening the 29th of July I will be out of email contact, out of phone range, and nowhere near a computer. I am taking my wife on an escape cruise to Nassau (where we hope to worship Sunday morning with the locals), St. Martin, and St. Thomas. This will be our second time on the Glory and we are looking forward to it.

We want to cruise with all our blogging friends and raise money for missions at the same time. Our second annual mission support cruise will be next February 2007. We have an eight night cruise planned that leaves from Ft. Lauderdale and visits Panama, Costa Rica, and Belize. Would you come with us? Contact our sister in Christ, Sue Yanaros, at sue@escape2sea.com and get a flyer with all the costs and details, including which missions we are supporting.

This cruise will be different from last year. People wanted more worship and teaching time so that will be offered (Hey... I'm here to serve...) along with optional group excursions. We will also have open seating at meals so we can visit with everyone instead of just a few.

Feel free to comment on this or other blogs below. I'm leaving that open even though it risks nutjobs and spammers getting in the way. God bless you all. I would say that I'll be thinking about you every day but..... nawwww.

The Strange Beginning at Cana

[LONG post. This comes from a sermon delivered at Rochester today, 7/16/06, and available online at www.rochestercoc.org. What follows is a heavily edited version for those who would rather read it here]

It might seem very strange to have Jesus start his ministry at a party... but not really. Look around. Jesus is the creator of all things (John 1, remember?). That would include otters, dancing bees, wild and crazy parrots, chimps, and your crazy aunt nobody wants to talk about. Take time to read John 2:1-11 and see that there is MUCH more going on here than just a water to wine miracle.

Verses 1&2: A very human moment. Jesus' mother is THERE, but Jesus and the disciples were just invited. Like most of us, the woman really wanted to be at that wedding and the men were just there because... well... the woman really wanted to be at that wedding!

Verses 3-5: I LOVE this passage. It, too, is so human. Mary informs Jesus of the lack of wine. she THINKS she has told him to do something about it, but she hasn't. She, like women everywhere, assume we can read their verbal shorthand. Most men would have heard the news "they're out of wine" and thought, "Bummer! Tell Habib to bring the camel around. We're outta here," but this was Jesus and he is God so he knew what she meant. He tries to get her to understand that he wanted to wait another until time to begin his ministry. In other words, he says "no," but she thinks he REALLY means "yes" and tells the servants to be ready to do whatever he tells them to do! Any men out there with similar experiences, where you told your wife one thing but she assumed you really meant something else and then counted on it? You can almost see Jesus' shoulders slump and hear him say, "Well, okay, but this is gonna cause all kinds of trouble in churches from now on..."

Verse 6: WHAT?!?!? Why did he go to those jars? This was the washing water where each guest would wash their hands and say ritual prayers required by religious tradition. Jesus' followers would be criticized by Pharisees for not keeping this tradition in another passage. Why didn't Jesus just go to the wine sacks, the huge leather bags or -- less often -- jars filled with wine? He could have produced wine there, no problem (since he's God and all), but he didn't. He went over to the 120-180 gallons of bathwater. What is going on here???

Verse 7: When Jesus told them to fill the jars, they filled them to the brim. It makes me think Mary was a formidable woman for them to jump to Jesus' direction so quickly and thoroughly. I would guess she would HAVE to have been strong to live through the rumors about Jesus' parentage and her morality; the rumors would have dogged her throughout her life.

Verse 8: In every Jesus Story there comes a point where I ask "Would I have done that?" Here is that point in this story. Would you have dipped a cup in the bathwater jugs -- which you just filled with water -- and take it to the master of the banquet? Not me. I am amazed at the faith these people had... or how much fear Mary inspired!

Verse 9-10: The miracle is mentioned in passing. No "Lo!" or "Behold!" here, just a simple mention that, oh, by the way, the water was just turned to wine. Wow. Then the master of the banquet asks why this wine -- better than the other wine served already -- was saved to last when people had drunk so much they couldn't appreciate it as much! (so much for this being grape juice by the way. I'm only saying....)

Verse 11: Critical stuff here. The Scripture says this was "the first of the signs through which he revealed his glory." So... this wasn't just a simple thing. This was a gunshot across the bows of the Good Ship SS Tradition and Religious Law. Jesus had exchanged the religious bathwater for 120-180 gallons of wine.

And the chains came off in a thunderclap heard only in the heavenlies (and in retrospect). Jesus ended the Old Covenant's call on us, the burden of hundreds of laws, boundaries, and its tribal nature. The long distance between us and God was closed when Jesus turned -- not to the wine bags -- but to the bathwater and changed everything.

Sound irreverent to think of Jesus this way? As a party guy who threw out the old and brought in joy? I understand. The Pharisees, scribes, etc. all thought Jesus hadn't a clue how to act like a rabbi/preacher/teacher. In Luke 7:30ff Jesus said they were children who wanted a God they could control, who would dance or cry when they wanted him to, and who would eat or drink only what they thought was proper.

And THAT, my friend, is what most of us want and many of us claim we have -- a controlled, predictable, safe God. Don't think so? What do you think or feel when something unplanned or unexpected happens in worship? Keep reading in Luke 7 and you see Jesus goes home with some Pharisees for a meal (I wouldn't have done that, either) and a woman breaks loose and comes over to him. She is a sinner -- everybody in the whole town knows that! -- and she touches him and cries at his feet. Ask yourself this question: if that happened next Sunday at your church, if a broken, nasty, dirty woman came up and pulled the shoes and socks off your preacher's feet (unless the pulpit was being filled by the youth minister in which it would be just the sandals, no socks) what would you do? What would you think? Would you say "Praise God! Someone who needs God has come here to look for Him?" Probably not.

We have raised the Idol of Predictability and placed him on the highest shelf in our hearts. It is the god in your pocket, the one the people in Luke 7 were crying for and Jesus berated them.

Jesus didn't try to get people to come to the temple or synagogue. He went to them. The Pharisees were a restoration movement, a religious purity movement, and Jesus wanted nothing to do with them. He went out, instead, and worked with the publicans, sinners, broken, and thrown away. He never okayed their sins, but he never deserted them, either. The only harsh words out of Jesus' mouth are directed towards the demons and the religiously smug. Think about that one and shiver awhile, if you will.

A party is going on! Some people -- most people -- didn't get their invitation yet. They see only bathwater when they drive by our buildings. They don't want a drink of that. Their invitations have gotten held up for we reserve them for people who might come to our buildings. We don't waste time on the rest of them. But Jesus did.

Have you ever heard of a party that occured and you wondered why you weren't invited? What if you found out that you HAD been but someone else failed to bring you the invitation? How would that make you feel?

Others hear about the party but assume it isn't for them. I got an invitation once and it specified "Evening Dress, White Tie and Tails." That's all I needed to see: that wasn't for me. I wouldn't fit in there. My clothes, my car, and my manners wouldn't pass muster there. And many, many people think that about the church, too. What if we don't know how to behave? When do they stand, sit, speak, shut up.... ?

Jesus turned out the religious bathwater and rigid rules that kept people out and he filled the jars with wine, knowing full well that that would upset and scandalize us. As Luke 7 indicates... he isn't under our control and we had better learn to live with it. He reached out to people who aren't on the religious party invitation mail route. He sought them out, loved them, taught them, healed them, and felt comfortable with them.

And the church will never BE the church until we step away from Bathwater Central and realize that Jesus has changed everything. It's a party, God's party, and you're invited. And so is everyone else. If they won't come to us, let's go to them and tell them that life has changed. The bathwater of religious rules and regs has been tossed out by none other than the Messiah. Let us never again put a lamb in the arms of a Pharisee, surround him with traditions, call them laws, and claim it is a photo of Jesus.

Jesus is who he is. And he has called us to follow him into the wild and tell everyone: come to the party.

Against The Grain, Against the Odds

I just got back from doing the adult portion of VBS at the Pitman Church of Christ in south New Jersey. It is a remarkable church, especially since it continues to grow despite the fact that it doesn't fit any of the accepted paradigms of growing churches in this post-modern age.

Rochester Church is growing, but it fits the accepted paradigms. It has a cutting edge worship leader, a new way of approaching ministries, staffing, extensive use of video, drama, and special events to reach its community. I love it! But compare us to Pitman and it would seem that one of us should be failing.

For one, Pitman is still doing VBS. How many churches have abandoned that? [full disclosure: Rochester still does VBS but I have often wondered how effective it is and whether it should continue]. The songs they sing haven't been used in most churches for a generation. On Sunday, their songs are the older traditional songs with some newer ones sprinkled in, and during VBS they sing "Once there were three wandering Jews" and "Father Abraham" and similar songs I thought had passed on due to age and political correctness. I cringed when the kids sang out as loud as they could "JEW, JEW, JEW!" (Am I becoming a politically correct, French loving, brie eating, touchy-feely wimp? )

The building is old (they are building a new one) and every book I've read recently tells me people won't go to one like that... but they do. And the people who go there! It is a wonderful mix of white, African-American, and Hispanic. A great number of them have no former connection with any of the restoration movement's three branches and, in fact, come from all walks of life. It is a more diverse congregation than any other I will deal with this year. Even after this, my third time with them, I walk away amazed.

How do you build a church without any of the postmodern accoutrements? How do you bring them in (they run over 300 in two morning services... in New Jersey! Right where people say it can't be done, they do it) and keep bringing them in when it would seem against the grain, against the odds? Just when so many are running away from the name "Church of Christ", Pitman's minister and elders (and many members) wear the name on golf shirts, button down oxfords, baseball hats, coffee mugs, and key chains. There it is just above a drawing of three crosses. They are proud of who they are and their name.

Their secret weapon is community. Their preaching minister is Dan Cooper, an energetic, kind, and tireless community builder. His elders are positive, encouraging, and supportive. People don't attend Pitman; they are brought into the family of Christ at Pitman. Their bulletin is a long list of service projects, outings to plays and events in Philly or New York, gatherings at this or that house, or requests for families to take care of this or that person who needs help. You sense love and participation, fellowship and community all around you.

As usual, I come away humbled by Pitman. They don't "do it" the way the blogroll's reading list says they should, and I doubt any of the members knows who Donald Miller or Mark Driscoll is. It would surprise me if they've been to Tulsa or taken in an Emerging Church seminar... but they are shining like a city on a hill. They glow with grace, joy, and love all wrapped up in community. What a wonderful, wonderful congregation. God bless Dan Cooper, the elders, and the Pitman church. Thanks for the lesson.

That's Not Okay With Me...

According to the last census, Detroit is the most African-American city in the US. Bordering Detroit is Livonia, declared the whitest city in the US by that same census. Eight Mile Road is a border land inhabited by Chaledeans (Iraqis, mainly Christian) who have their own closed community. I could go on and on because the tribal lines everywhere here and those lines are walls; and woe be unto anyone who wants to breach them.

That's not okay with me.

Jesus launched a revolution where he replaced 600+ laws on religion with a new rule: "The only thing that matters is faith expressing itself in love" (Galatians 5). Since that time Christians have scurried to make new laws, new walls, new barriers.

That's not okay with me.

We sit in worship with people who look like us, who like the things we like, and with whom we are comfortable. Outside are single mothers, rockers, slackers, addicts, the divorced, the slaves of consumerism, gray minions of corporate America, skateboarders and.... you get the idea. None of them will ever feel comfortable with our ways or in our buildings. In those rare instances in which they want to be a part of us, we force them to become us first! They have to be more like us, agree with our preferences, and behave themselves.... then and only then are they allowed access to the Kingdom.

That's not okay with me.

My neighborhood is full of young couples with children. Toys, bikes, swingsets, and forts are in every yard but ours. We are the old folk here. On Sundays, only a couple families from this subdivision go to worship. None go with us and none will consider driving the 20-30 minutes it takes to get to Rochester Hills from our home. They won't go with me, so should I leave them to their fate?

That's not okay with me.

Dearborn Heights, an area about a forty minute drive from my house, has the largest concentration of Muslims of any place in the US. Drive another hour south and, just as you leave Toledo and enter the flat northwest corner of Ohio, there is a huge and opulent mosque reminding you of who has congregated here. Reaching Muslims is difficult (always) and can be dangerous (rarely). Chances of success are small. Most people write them off, turn slightly away from the swarthy man boarding the bus or the plane, stand next to them in line at Meijers, saying nothing, and then go to a segregated, safe place on Sunday and sing "Anywhere with Jesus."

That's not okay with me.

If I have to form evangelistic small groups to target each of these people for Jesus, I'm okay with that. If that makes some of my brethren nervous because their comfortable, predictable church order is changed around and their preferences (and ease) are no longer the greatest priority, I'm saddened by their attitude, but I'm okay with that, knowing that doors swing both ways and keeping them in and happy means keeping out everybody else. I will not trade one soul for a million, not if it is over a matter of taste and tradition rather than a plainly stated "thus sayeth the Lord."

I'm just not okay with that.

Will we fail? Yes. Probably several times. But the greatest failure of all would be to keep doing what we have always been doing and expect God to change everybody else in the world so that they will look, like, and think like us... and then magically come in and sit quietly with us at church. It would require ignoring the Great Commission, the Revolution of Jesus, and the facts of the gospel. It would require us to shrug our shoulders and consign the rest of the world to hell.

That's not okay with me. Is it with you?

Surf's Up!

[NOTE: just a reminder -- everything I write on this blog or over at tentpegs.blogspot.com is free of copyright. You may use the material in any way you wish -- even to disparage it! If you copy bits and pieces or whole articles and ideas there is NO need to attribute me. This is freely given. And worth every penny]

The waves are coming! I've never officially surfed. I've body surfed quite a lot and I've hung onto a boogie board for dear life from time to time, but no one's ever accused me of being blond, tanned, fit and reckless. I have a deep appreciation for the power of waves and at how helpless they can make you feel.

I'm caught in one right now, as a matter of fact. God sent in the wave and caught me off guard. Our church is going multi-site and using a multi-pronged approach to reach the lost in a large area of southeast Michigan. Almost everything we are doing or planning to do is new to us. In fact, it is outside of our CoC DNA. We MUST do it, though, for the Spirit is moving us in such a dynamic and forceful way that to resist it would be an act of open rebellion.

For most of my life the church (my particular tribe of it, anyway) has ignored the waves of change and the waves of human experience. We refused to grab our boards, climb on, and ride the big blue curl. We were comfortable treading water and either denying waves even existed or, if admitting that they might, we refused to get caught up in them. We stayed in our small group -- our buddy system intact, maintained by disapproval and a very large unwritten creed backed up by brotherhood publications -- paddling around in a tight circle while the wild and woolly people around us shouted "Cowabunga!" and zipped away.

The days of denominational loyalty are over. Most of the arguments we used to keep each other in line have failed in the two youngest generations on the planet. In retrospect, most of the arguments seem rather silly, like a theological version of the Monty Python argument scene with John Cleese (and going to church was akin to paying 5 pounds for the privelege of argument!). Like it or not, this is reality; our children are not impressed with our John Locke lockstep. They couldn't care less about postmodernism or modernism. They want to live in a way that matters, in a caring community, and in a way that brings honor to God.

But they don't want a megachurch -- brand name or not. They don't want a tiny church. They want to be in an active and meaningful small group that is part of a larger movement, one they can "dock with" from time to time; one that rides the waves with them and gathers to share the experiences in fellowship and grace.

I have fought God most of my life. I think of myself as a reluctant minister, a hesitant leader, a fearful explorer, and a timid son... but God keeps patiently sending the waves until I can't help myself -- I climb on and ride. Tomorrow night we -- the staff and elders -- will talk to a hand selected group of 60 of our members and give them our vision; what we believe the Lord can do here, with us, if we are unafraid.

I believe that Jesus would tell us "Lift up your eyes, for the fields are ripe for harvest" again. And he wouldn't want us standing on the shore, or dog-paddling in a tight, self-congratulatory group. He'd be the first to climb on his board and shoot the curl, all the while waving us onward.

Surf's up! Let's ride!

Vive la Revolution!

I learned the poem when I was in third grade and remember it still:

By the rude bridge that arched the flood
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled.
Here, once, embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world


Even though that shot was directed towards a mixed company of English, Scottish and German troops (i.e. "my team") I have always loved that line: the shot heard round the world.

There were other revolutions: the industrial revolution, the renaissance, the invention of movable type come to mind, but the greatest revolution of all time came through the person of Jesus Christ. We often picture him as the lamb-holder guy or the surfer-dude-looking-guy praying in front of a rock, but we rarely see him as he was -- the greatest revolutionary of all time.

Here's a challenge: read the first five books of the Bible. I dare you. Don't skip the meal offering bits in Leviticus. More than 600 rules are there covering every single aspect of life and worship from rotating crops to the position of the altar to the underwear worn by priests. For a thousand years that was the only way to approach God; the only way to be in fellowship with His people. No exceptions -- you had to strap on those five books of Law and walk the right direction, bucko, or no worship for you!

Then Jesus came. He walked up the Mount of Olives, sat down, and changed everything. In the Old Testament, God promises storehouses full of blessings to those who follow Him. Jesus starts his sermon by blessing the weak, hungry, thirsty, and poor. In the Old Testament, you gathered at the temple for worship. Jesus told his followers they were to be salt and light -- out in the world.

And then he said it -- five times in Matthew chapter 5: "You've heard it said, but I say to you." Don't step past that without asking: "You've heard it said by whom?" The answer, in most cases, is God. Jesus was saying, "God said this, but I say this"! What? Who does this guy think he is??? In Matthew 7:28,29 the Bible says, in modern vernacular, "The people were deeply shocked by what he said. 'Who does this guy think he is to speak like this?'"

No longer were they to be separate, sticking their noses up as they passed Samaritans. They were to engage them, love them, and offer salvation to them. Horrors! This guy is ruining the church we've loved for 1000 years! This guy is changing everything!

Just like all revolutions, not everybody bought into it. In the Colonies, only 30% wanted to separate from England. In Jesus' revolution, his church rejected him, nailing him to a cross. "That's what he gets for trying to change the church!" you can hear them say.

And what a revolution it was: Jesus took us from a set of 600+ laws to a New Testament that doesn't even describe a worship service. You heard me right. Read it. There is no description of a worship service. There are a few things we can glean or infer out of Acts and a few more in First Corinthians (but in the latter book you really don't want to copy much). Some run to Ephesians, Colossians and Galatians to get rules on singing but those have nothing to do with the worship service (another phrase not found in Scripture). The "psalms, hymns and spiritual songs" section refers to the way you are to live your life, not what you do for an hour on Sunday.
This frustrates and angers us, so we undo the revolution. We did that in the US, too. We rebelled because of the onerous 2% tax burden the English put on us and because they often boarded soldiers on/in our property without permission or reimbursement. Today, the average tax burden is over 30% and the Supreme Court says they can take your property anytime the township or city thinks it can put something else there that raises more tax income. Makes you wonder why you went through the war, doesn't it?

And in the church, Jesus took the temple away... and we replaced it with church buildings. Nothing wrong with buildings, but we treat them as a priority and holy space, allowing some things in our home but not in the building. He took away the Levitical priesthood and we replaced it with convention speakers and brotherhood papers. He sent us out to be light and salt and we prefer being salty in the salt shaker and light in the chandelier. We avoid the people he wanted us to embrace.

At Rochester, we are determined to join Him in revolution again. While maintaining our building as a worship, teaching, and service center, we have three other prongs of approach to Jesus' dream. Charitable works is one of them and this church runs several efforts on a daily basis, some of which have garnered national attention. Next comes the launching of people into communities (as mentioned previously), giving them our blessing and backup as they reach out to Goths, rockers, the homeless, addicts, and various prisoners of suburbia. Fourth, we are sending out teams of sixty to one hundred to start congregations in target communities. All of these works are small group based and they aren't your usual small groups.

Forgive me, but most small groups are merely an alternative to checking the "Sunday night" box on our righteousness ticket or a fun way to stay close to people we see every Sunday morning. Our small groups are evangelistic and service oriented (and are getting more so).

Jesus launched a revolution. We've decided to rebel with him. Wanna come along? Vive la revolution!