entertainment or worship?

Are we having fun yet?

That's the title of an article about the changing values of the workplace in the latest Utne Reader (March-April '08). It reminded me of the changing values in our places of worship.

I love visiting cathedrals partly because they are rich with visual depictions of the central stories and truths of our faith (it starts in the architecture and includes the stained glass and statuary, but don't get me started).

But today's houses of worship (at least the American Christian evangelical ones) look more like theaters. The dominant value isn't worship, re-telling and re-living the Gospel, but entertainment. As a public speaker on Sunday mornings I'm always wondering if I'm funny enough, or interesting enough, or poignant enough. And I know the same pressure is on the worship band and everyone else who leads in worship.

Entertainment has become the dominant value of American culture. One could trace it all back to Sesame Street: Big Bird and Elmo have made it a requirement for all education to be fun. And now worship has to measure up. We justify it by making sure it's Christian entertainment, but it's entertainment nonetheless. (We shouldn't even say we "go to church" because we ARE the Church, but that's a whole 'nother line of thought.)

Maybe I'm being overly cynical. As embodied spirits we have to pay attention to how time and space and our senses affect all of our activities. But how many people who say, "I can worship God anywhere, even on a golf course" actually worship on a golf course? The problem is, how many of us are really worshiping in our worship services?

There are really only two primary reasons for worshiping together: to publicly say who God is and to publicly form who we are. We are God's people and by publicly declaring who God is and re-telling the story of our redemption we are being shaped by the Spirit. Everything on a Sunday morning should be a vehicle for worship: songs, readings, prayers, sermons, communion, even the time of greeting each other ("passing the peace").

"True worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks." John 4:23

cleaning

We're moving some furniture upstairs so the kids can have a den to use. Of course that means cleaning up what is currently a seldom-used guest bedroom. We've been going through stuff, deciding what to keep and what to throw out or give away and figuring out new places to put the stuff we'll keep. It's amazing what we've accumulated over the years that now has no meaning to us, or stuff that we'd forgotten about and now want to have available for our use. Doing this cleaning reminded me of Lent.

Lent is a kind of spring cleaning. The disciplines of prayer and fasting and giving up stuff help me to examine what's in my life that I should get rid of, or what may have been unused for a while that I should bring back into my consciousness or into regular use again.

I don't do this kind of cleaning every day. But having a regular season for it is good, a way to remind me that I need a time of deeper confession and examination periodically. And the best part is the result: a life that is more available for Jesus to use.

Lent?

Tomorrow is the start of Lent. So what?

Even though I've been a Christian since I was 6, I wasn't introduced to the idea of Lent or Advent or a Christian calendar until I became friends in seminary with a fellow student who was Episcopalian (what he was doing in a Fundamentalist seminary is beyond me!). I was raised to be a little (okay, a lot) suspicious of the "smells and bells" approach to worship.

But as I've reflected on my own upbringing I've come to realize that there are at least two good reasons to participate in the Christian calendar shared by the Church throughout time and around the world.

First, I am a creature of time and space. I'm affected by what I do repeatedly. The fact that I celebrate birthdays is an indication that rhythms and repeated observances are important to me and to people around me. Lent reminds me that Christ's life, death and resurrection are the most significant events of history. Christmas celebrates Christ's birth, but Lent and Easter celebrate why Christ was born and my participation in that observance renews that importance in my soul.

Second, Lent is something that the Church does together. Rather than ignoring the activity and focus of the rest of the Church as if I'm somehow beyond all that, I want to participate in that which is shaping the life and identity of Christ's Church. It's sort of like calling yourself a Giants fan and then not watching the Super Bowl or not showing outwardly that you're happy they won. I should at least be curious about what all the hoopla is about.

I'm still not very good at observing Lent. Some approach Lent with a "step on a crack, break your mother's back" legalism. I take comfort in the fact that the various practices of Lent (prayer, fasting, candles) are not meant to gauge my level of spirituality, but to help me become more present to God so he can let me know how spiritual I am or am not and what he wants me to do about it. I should be listening to God all year, but the season of Lent gives me an extra boost, some additional reminders and resources.

I'll never "arrive" spiritually this side of death. My Christian formation happens over time. Time is measured in seasons. Lent is one of those seasons.

detachment

“I don’t need to go to a building to find God.” But in a climate which often is wet and cold, a community needs somewhere they can call their own.

These are words from the Irish Jesuits’ prayer website, Sacred Space. The climate being referred to is Dublin's. But the spiritual climate of Silicon Valley is wet and cold, too. So we, too, need a church building because buildings both house and represent the gatherings that give us warmth and encouragement.

In a mobile society we have a tension about attaching ourselves too much to a place that may no longer be ours in a short time. We develop an air of detachment that keeps us from finding warmth and encouragement. The problem is that we are also detaching ourselves from relationships in the same way that we detach ourselves from buildings.

No matter how connected modern technology is supposed to make us feel, there is no substitute for being in someone’s physical presence, for conversation over a warm cup of coffee (or tea), being granted the honor of looking into the windows of their soul, detecting in the notes of their voice the themes of their inner song.

How many times have I missed a chance for a connection because of distance, either physical or self-imposed? In our distant and detached society, connection and encouragement have been replaced by irony and cynicism. May God grant me the grace to overcome the detachment I’ve developed, to be truly present to those that he has brought into my life.

sacred cows

The JAM (Jesus and Me) core team met last night. We spent most of the meeting talking about how to handle all of our children's/family programming without Sarah on board (her family ministries internship ended yesterday). There were a lot of agenda items we didn't get to simply because we don't know who will take the lead on several programs, some of which have become Grace Community hallmarks. So we had a lively discussion about the merits of certain programs and events and who might be able to lead them.

Two things stand out to me. First, we need to develop leaders and JAM staff. For example, there aren't many people who can tackle the oversight of the Family Easter Celebration. It requires vision to motivate and skill to coordinate an army of volunteers. So maybe we'll have to kill some sacred cows to get our to-do list down to a manageable size.

The second is that we need to find our ministry sweet spot. Killing sacred cows is messy business and there better be a good reason for it. What is it that the people of Grace Community have expertise in and really enjoy doing? How does that fit with God's love for our neighbors and their need to know Him? If God has put together our church community and placed us in this particular space, there must be a reason for it. It's up to us to listen carefully to God and to our neighbors and to develop our gifts and abilities to do whatever it is that will put us in the center of God's purposes.

Of course, we may not be killing a sacred cow. Not having a Family Easter Celebration this year may just be a relief to some people. So the cow may be slowly dying anyway. But I pray that it's not an indication that our heart for God and for our neighbors is also dying.

blaming the church

“We can blame the church for many things, I suppose. But if we are faithful to give to it as much as we receive from it, we’ll find this communion of saints to be a source of astonishing beauty.”

This is the ending paragraph of an article in the latest Christianity Today by a woman who recounts how her church community helped her through a time when she was both needy and pushing people away. She was withdrawing into isolation when she most needed the comfort and help of the body of Christ: after being raped in her own home by an intruder. But her community continued to reach out to her: "The overpowering emotions I experienced that awful night did not go away the next day - or the one after that. But neither did the people of the church." They stayed with her by offering "small acts of service" (casseroles, lawn mowing, babysitting) that acted to "comfort the soul better than Band-Aids on skinned knees."

The horror of such an event leaves me aching and horrified for her experiencing a pain that I cannot comprehend. But the wonder of her healing experience (which is still taking place after 10 years) also leaves me in awe of the privilege that we all have of participating in God’s purposes for the Church. We are all both hurting people and sources of healing help, called on alternately to give and to receive.

Which begs the question: am I blaming the church for many things, or am I faithful to give to my sisters and brothers?

autograph hound

I’m still grieving the fact that I missed a chance to have a book signed by a famous author.

One of the reasons I went to this year’s Midwinter Conference (for Covenant church leaders: I’ve only missed one in nine years) is that I wanted to hear Miroslav Volf. I’m in the middle of his book “Exclusion and embrace.” I am impressed with his scholarship and touched by his humanity as he reflects on his experiences in the Balkan War (he is Croatian). At first I thought I’d pass up the chance to have him sign my copy of his book, then I thought better of it and decided to get the book signed. But after he spoke, it was announced that he had to leave very shortly so would we all please not try to stop him as the conference director escorted him out of the auditorium.

So I missed my chance. I should’ve asked him to sign the book the first morning or before the second morning session.

Yet why did I want him to sign the book? I’m not sure. Because he’s famous? (OK, semi-famous: he’s not exactly a household word outside of seminary circles)? Does that make me more significant if he gives me his signature? Or because he’s a very significant contemporary theologian? But his signature can’t be an affirmation of my theological abilities (which are pretty meager: hanging out with my friends who are seminary professors makes me realize I’m out of practice at theologizing). He doesn’t know me at all (even though I rode the shuttle with him from the airport to the hotel).

What would getting his signature prove? Not much I guess. So it’s back to wading through his deeply profound thinking (I have to read each paragraph at least twice). If I really want to get something out of his book, I’d be a lot better off practicing what he’s preaching: knowing myself as God’s beloved and participating in the community of those who are making God’s love known in this world.