Tag Archives: Emerging

Don’t like change? You’ll love this!

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Holy Spirit

Image by micmol  via Flickr

[I have written several pieces on change and encourage you to find links to them here.]

There is something startling about a Christian that doesn’t like change.  We have come to see our faith traditions as monolithic and unchanging.  We look back through our lives and we such static behavior coming from Christianity.  We are used to it.  We expect it.

But the truth is that for Christians, change isn’t actually on the table.

But, Drew, you were just saying… you respond.

No, change isn’t on the table, because it isn’t actually enough.  It isn’t big enough.  Christians aren’t really about change, we’re about transformation.

Dictionary.com defines “transform” as:

  1. to change in form, appearance, or structure; metamorphose.
  2. to change in condition, nature, or character; convert.
  3. to change into another substance; transmute.

Transformation is to undergo a metamorphosis, to be changed in some fundamental way.  What else are we saying when we see ourselves as a people transformed by our faith?

The two most potent symbols of our faith involve transformation.

In baptism, we see it as a death to our old life, so that we may be transformed by the Holy Spirit as a new creation.

In Jesus’ resurrection, we see death and rebirth: Jesus and humanity transformed into a new creation.

Our belief isn’t about small changes, tinkerings with the lighting or music, but about transformation: about the transforming power of the Great Mystery.

If we truly believe the transformation at the heart of our faith, why aren’t we embracing the transformative power in everything?  Not just in our lives, but in our communities, and even in our congregations.  We must embrace that transformative power in our worship, formation, and mission and embrace the truth that GOD works in transformation.

Next to that, what’s a little change, anyway?

To change is a sign of respect

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Krige as the Borg Queen in First Contact

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[A couple of weeks ago I began writing about change.  I argued that we are called to change and that we actually like change.  You may want to go back and read them both again.  Now I’m going to write about another aspect of change: intransigence.]

One of the aspects of our view of change is that it is a force that we are either with or against.  We argue for the status quo against some inflexible Borg-like assimilator known only as “change”.  We take up arms and we rally against the forces of change.  In other words, we fight it.  Or we ride with it.

But one important piece of the process is that every time we take up the reasonable prospect of changing the way we do things or changing the types of choices we make, we are showing not some contrition to a mythical enemy, but compassion and intimacy with another person.

I posted earlier that I am insulted when someone makes a reference in defense of the status quo that actually excludes me.  The reference, to the Flip Wilson skit about “The Church of What’s Happenin’ Now” that predates me and my entire generation, doesn’t take into consideration, my experience.  If you have said this to me, I know you mean the best by it.  The defense: that we should respect who you are and where you come from is to use something alien to my experience.  This is the problem we face in dealing with change.  The change-averse are afraid to risk their own experience to meet the other at their experience.

1979 BCP with Bible

In the Episcopal Church, we hear the same issues over the use of Rite I.  During the 1960s, when plans were underway to revise the 1928 Prayer Book, they had to decide on the approach to revision.  They chose to follow two tracks within one book: to compose one set of rites (Rite I) that would mimic the 1928 linguistic style and a second track (Rite II) that would use more current language.  After a lengthy trial period and consecutive General Conventions, the 1979 Prayer Book was ratified.  For 32 years now, this book has been the rules of the road.  And yet, many pine for the good ol’ days from 83 years ago.  Many more contend that we must continue using Rite I because “it is what I grew up with”.  So, based on this argument, since I grew up with Rite II and find Rite I completely alien to my formation, what should I do?

The troubling answer that many give is that I must learn Rite I, lead worship using it, and deal.  I could say the same thing right back about Rite II.

Do you see how divisive we make the process of change?  And yet change is a joyous thing.  Change is an opportunity to let go of the stuff we carry with us.  Change is the opportunity to say “this isn’t the way I know it, but maybe you could show me.”

Change, after all, is a sign of respect.  A sign that you have learned from someone else.  That you respect them and what they have to say.  To change is to deal with the troubles of the here and now in the here and now, rather than relying on past remedies.  To change is to admit that we still have so much to learn from the Spirit.  And when we admit to the Great Mystery we know as GOD that we might not have it all figured out and that someone else might give us a clue?

Well, that’s at the heart of our faith.

We actually like change

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fresco at the Karlskirche in vienna (by Johann...

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It is funny when you are in an organization that hears the word “change” and breaks out into metaphorical hives, because the response is predictable.  We hear the same chorus:

“Why change anything, we’re doing fine.”

“We’re not the church of what’s happenin’ now.”*

“There’s so much change in the world, I want church to be my constant.”

And of course, our favorite:

“I don’t like change for the sake of change.”

Well, actually, you do.  Change for the sake of change is what we do every single day.  Do you eat the same food at lunch and dinner that you ate for breakfast?  Do you eat the same dinner every single night?  Is your day so regimented that every minute of every hour is identical to yesterday?  I’m pretty sure you said no to all three; at least I hope so! Otherwise “change” is the least of your problems…

picture from Wikipedia

Seriously, toss the discs and bake some bread.

Of course we like a little variety you say.  That’s why my church alternates Eucharistic Prayers and Prayers of the People forms from the Prayer Book each season.  Well, gosh!  That sounds downright crazy!  Next thing you’ll tell me that you eat the same chicken dish for 40 days, then spice things up on Easter with a little ham!  Ooh!  Then 50 days of steak!

Now, don’t get me wrong, because I’m not saying that Methodists or the United Church or whoever have it right on this.  It’s just they aren’t pretending that a lack of variety and change in our liturgical diet is something to scoff at.  They have their own cases of refusing to change.  My point is much broader than this.  It is to say that we actually enjoy spicing things up.  We actually like change.

Gasp!  Take a minute to let it sink in.  Let it roll around in your head for just a minute.  We like change.

We like changing of seasons and holidays that throw off our routines.  We like discovering new places and new products at Target.  We like that our children grow older and make new discoveries, while casting aside those habits we hated.  We like change!

So stop saying that church is the one place that can’t change because that’s total crap.  The church sure better change!  It is trying to represent the movement of a Holy Spirit that is as elusive as the wind.  It’s going to change!

And despite what some may try to tell you, GOD changes.  Regardless of how you make sense of the Great Mystery, we accept that GOD was doing something new and absolutely crazy in Jesus.  We understand that GOD has come to understand humanity by dealing with being human, in the flesh.  That’s not unchanging.  That’s a radical shift.  A shift that requires that we recognize how freaking awesome it is!  That mysterious Creative Thing would make this great, ridiculous experiment to be a creation to be changed by the process.  To accept that is to love change!

We love change for the sake of change!  Because the now isn’t what will be.  Yeah, it’s different from what was, but we sure don’t want tomorrow to look as messed up as today. Thanks be to GOD!  We want tomorrow to be better than today.  That’s change.

So let’s agree to stop bagging on change.  Let’s stop tensing up around the word.  Let’s see the possibilities.  Let’s open our flipping eyes to the project GOD has going on around us in creation, from the natural world to our cities, and yes, even somewhere in D.C.  Change is good.  Change is necessary.  For the timid and the concerned (the older brothers from yesterday’s post), of course we’ll have fully printed instructions with deep theological backing for every little maneuver; you can expect nothing less.  I only wish your theological defense of the status quo were as detailed.  No, I’m not trying to pick a fight.  Yes, I know the onus is on the one “messing” with what “works” but remember, you were just telling me that it didn’t work as well as it used to.  Oh, you can call your brother names, but I can’t, well—hey!  The younger sons have run off ahead of us!  Let’s move!

 

[* NOTE--the above phrase about the "Church of What's Happenin' Now" is apparently some TV skit from the early 70's by Flip Wilson.  To be honest, that's all I know about it because that's what people tell me.  Older people.  I have no clue who Flip Wilson is.  Is he Richard Pryor?  Then don't bother.  Nobody my age or younger has any clue what it's about.  This actually represents the very struggle for change in the change- and risk-averse church.  Because not only do I not get the reference, I'm actually insulted that there isn't a greater attempt to understand my place in the church.  Your argument about keeping the congregation kneeling during the Eucharistic Prayer is a skit that is older than I am?  Huh.  I see how I rate.]

Learning to change from the prodigal sons

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Return of the prodigal son

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In the parable of the lost son(s), Jesus tells of a son that must go out and experience the world, forsaking his father and wasting his inheritance.  After the young man hits rock bottom, he comes back home humiliated and hoping to work in the stable as one of his father’s workers.  But to our surprise, the father rushes out to greet his son and throws a great big party for him.  We have come to call this young man the prodigal son and there is far too much nuance to go into here.

For many Christians, the story ends there.  Not because there isn’t more to the parable, but it makes it easier for many to talk about the foolishness and arrogance of the first son and the wise generosity of the father.  Our own arrogance blinds us to the second son.

As Jesus continues, he speaks of the other son, the older, who is jealous of his father’s generosity.  In giving the younger son his inheritance early, everything left of the estate is his.  The party his father throws for his brother comes from his inheritance.  In anger, the elder son leaves what is essentially his own party, himself betraying his father.  The parable ends with the father disrespected, now by the elder son, and going out to convince him to rejoin the party.

In The Prodigal God, Tim Keller uses this parable to describe two different types of people with two different ways of engaging the world, each represented by the two brothers.  One type needs to experience the world, make mistakes, and seek forgiveness.  The other needs to stay behind, work hard, only to be disappointed when GOD treats both kinds equally.  Several parables sound this same theme of equality, most notably the parable of the workers that are all paid the same, regardless of how long they were in the field.

These two brothers make a great example for how we might see one another.  There are some that need to race ahead while others hold back; some splurge while others skimp; some struggle with seeking forgiveness and others that struggle with witnessing it.  And sometimes we are both at the same time.

This parable, about the nature of the two sons who struggle with how they learn and experience relationship and how they deal with a radical understanding of forgiveness, fairness, and community; it came to me as I reflected on the idea of change.  This rich, multi-layered story has many avenues to explore, and I encourage you to read or watch the video of The Prodigal God to explore several of them.  But I am focused on this one idea of change.

We often describe change as an alteration of current existence or something that is too disruptive to the existential flow of society.  It is treated as something to fear and made into an Unknown vs. Known dual.  But what if we recognize not the nature of change, but the nature of our relationship to it?  What if we cast ourselves as one of these two brothers and recognize which of us needs to experience something to understand it and which of us need to recognize that hard work into one system is not the peak of existence, but simply its purpose?

I have many thoughts on change, which I’ll discuss here for a while.  But I’ll leave you with a simple question: am I the one who is always madly and hopelessly in love with change or the one that needs to realize that to love at all, one must learn to change?

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Don’t fear deconstruction

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Dekonstrukcja

Image by eisenbahner via Flickr

As part of an ongoing project, I’m collecting some instructive ideas and understandings on this site into a new category called “Emergence“.  You can click on it in the headings above or click through the link.  I plan on describing what emergence is and what the emerging church means for liturgical and social justice Christians in a few short essays.

The first essay is not about emergence, but the literary theory, deconstruction.  The truth is that one of my pet peeves is that people assume that the theory is only interested in tearing things down, rather than the regenerative act of building them back up.  That people have built deconstruction as something to fear (or easily dismiss) demonstrates their own fear of what it would mean if their entire world-view were turned upside down.  Or perhaps they fear that what will be revealed is their own inadequacy.  Whatever the cause, many discourage you from seeing deconstruction for what it truly is–the revelation of our place and the act of owning one’s actions.

“First, imagine this is bread…”

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“…everybody got it?  OK, because you’re never going to believe what else it is.”

I found this picture online and that is the first thing that popped into my head.

Jonny Baker, in his blog, directed his readers to an article in the Church of England Newspaper entitled “The Eucharist re-examined“.  You’ll find the picture there.  But more than that, you’ll find a discussion about the history of the Eucharist, how it was practiced in the early church, and how it changed in the Medieval period to resemble something similar to what we know of it today.

It really has me thinking about the way we celebrate together–and more importantly–what Jesus intended for us.

I’m glad I’m not the only one that thinks its weird that we take a round piece of something that tastes like paper, sip a little wine, and walk back to our seats.  And for those that toast with thimbles of grape juice, don’t think you’re off the hook, either!

Why I like Wikileaks

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Unless you live under a rock, you’ve heard something about Wikileaks.  And chances are just as good that you’ve formed an opinion about the website.  Whether it is a beacon of hope or a traitorous organization, the public, and especially the media, has made its opinions known widely and swiftly, with each new unveiling of U.S. security documents.  I trust for most of us, the subject may be getting a little old.  But before you stop discussing it or file it away as yesterday’s news, take a brief moment to contemplate what is actually going on: it is pure media evolution—one that is as inevitable as the powerful people’s own rejection of the old ways.

If we take for granted that the Free Press—the only industry enshrined in the Bill of Rights—is the Fourth Estate and is required for a free society (as most constitutional scholars believe it is), then we recognize the role, scope, and importance of the press as a check, not so much on government itself, but on the form, style, and openness of government.  Its role, perhaps at its most obvious, may be understood best from Watergate, in which President Nixon’s corruption and participation in illegal tampering with the Democratic Party was brought to light and forced his resignation.  We can say with great certainty that the only way Nixon resigns from office is because of the press.

So here’s the rub: the dramatic shift toward globalization in the last twenty years was the inevitable response to the steady drumbeat of deregulation and corporate infatuation that has dominated the Western world since the 19th Century.  So we have economic entities operating on a global scale, wholly unregulated and unrestricted by individual countries and local communities, because we have not only allowed them to, but we have actually encouraged them to.  Every time a corporation relocates its “headquarters” to the Caymans, we say: “Buy their stock!  It’s about to soar!”

And despite the conspiracy fears about the United Nations and the European Union from the fringe, globalization isn’t happening in that same way politically, or in the form of governments.  Where we do see it, is the relative impunity many countries are now able to act throughout the world, most especially the United States.  Political globalization isn’t found in the creation of a single government, but in military excursions in countries on the other side of the globe.  It is titanically different for the United States to send soldiers and munitions to Europe in the World Wars than it is to actually wage war on a different continent or to hold multiple conflicts simultaneously.  And when we take into the shear volume of wars, taking place on five different continents in that time—3 in the last half century—it is impossible for us to suggest that the United States is not operating as a globalized military.

And yet, there is no globalized news organization; at least according to our traditional standards.  The Associated Press and the British Broadcasting Company (BBC) may well be considered that way.  And yet, they still lock themselves and the very way they operate to the nation-states they come from.  The Associated Press still brings American news, or world news to America.  It is filtered through an American lens.

If we take for a moment, my previous description of the Press and applied it to the notion of globalization, then we recognize the place Wikileaks is operating: as the only true globalized Press.  Puritans and purists will quibble about the subject matter and its general lack of traditional reporting and use these as arguments against it—to discredit it or dismiss it; just as a tyrannical king would do so to the pamphleteer or a cunning president would to a libelous media baron.  And yet, because there are no longer any checks to balance our mega-corporations and government, short of the threat of total economic collapse or nuclear annihilation, a new globalized press has surfaced.  Its headquarters is in a country with little press and media regulation (as corporations seek out similar financial and environmental “stewards”) and its participants, contributors, and readers/viewers are all over the world.  Even the legal troubles of the site and the site’s founder, Julian Assange, regardless of their truth, serve more as an attack on a news source that reveals secrets that governments don’t like, than they are actively seeking justice.

Wikileaks is the next evolution of media.  If you ideologically support globalization, then get behind it and encourage others to make the same step.  If you still want national control, or fear an unfettered press, then get behind more corporate regulations, anti-trust lawsuits against hundreds of mega-corporations, and labor unions, because we need a check to this kind of power.  The playing field is now a whole lot bigger.

NOTE: don’t forget to check out #Wikileaks on twitter

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A pretty good picture of the Kingdom

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[The following is a book review of Colors of God by Randall Mark Peters, Dave Phillips, and Quentin Steen.  For more information on the book or for other reviews, please check out Viralbloggers.]

I’ve had countless conversations about preaching and it seems that people see only two methods: with a script and without; or perhaps in the pulpit vs. walking around.  For many, there is a distinct dividing line between these two seemingly opposing methods.  Those of us that have a ministry that includes preaching within the context of a congregation can tell you that there are many more methods and methodologies than those two.  It is in this context that Colors of God opens up and talks about the way preaching is done at the authors’ church.  Preaching is shared simultaneously as a dialogue.  Both preachers prepare and have a conversation in the midst of the liturgy, wrestling with the Scripture, sometimes together, and sometimes in opposition.  It is a strangely kinetic and visual environment that is both radically different from the current practice most of us are used to, while also theologically consistent with how we actually think of Scripture and how we actually describe our liturgy: as a response.

Though I did want more literary punch, I did get into the conversational tone and felt like I could hang out with them and talk about Jesus.

As I read this book, I felt an interesting tension: that it defied my ability to define it, not in the normal way that refers to our own inability to place a book in a genre, but in that as easily as it slips into a genre, it rejects its labels and presuppositions.  It is a strange little book that can truly best be described as the result of three guys sitting in a coffee shop with a tape recorder.  Who then take that tape recorder home and have someone type it up.  This may be seen as positive or negative, depending on whether or not you find this idea compelling and the book is at times both.  But it is earnest and believable, and that goes a long way.

The premise of the book is pretty simple, these three leaders (former capital-E evangelicals, but abiding by the small-e moniker), struck out on their own and formed an emerging church called neXus.  And in their ministry, they have found four important components of faith, which they describe with colors.  They seem to intend the colors as a gnomonic device for referring to each of these components, while also demonstrating that the presence of each color brings vibrancy to a picture.

The authors use the colors, however, not as a congregational creed or as a simple Rorschach test, but as a means of describing the most important elements to their church, in some ways basing an entire book on what a church might try to put on its webpage.  But instead of sounding like a pitch, it does sound mostly right.  They begin with Blue, saying the Gospel and historic faith is central to their identity, and the other three serve to demonstrate what is unique about neXus.  They are about healthy living (which is in intentional contrast to sin-avoidance), creating a community that truly welcomes all people (as opposed to claiming this and then marginalizing different groups as greater sinners), and fully engaging the culture, especially pop culture.

Though this is the format of the book, the most compelling, and at times difficult part of the book, is something living within and without that structure: their eagerness to share of themselves constructively and precisely.  This isn’t to say that they don’t wander or that this book couldn’t be summed up in 25 pages instead of 225 (which it easily could).  But that they are very adept at stating and describing the gospel message that they profess.  This was difficult for me at times because I really do think that they are much more Protestant than I am.  However, the consistency and compassion of their message always won me over, sometimes leaving me struggling to think of a better way of putting it and failing.

Though I liked this book and would encourage many people to read it, I can’t give it an enthusiastic blanket recommendation.  I want to give it caveats, depending on to whom I am talking.  I’m thinking something like this:

Q: Are you an evangelical that is struggling with your church’s stance on issue X?
R:Then you should read this, noticing how faithful they are being to the Scripture.

Q:Are you a cradle Episcopalian or other mainliner?
R: Maybe; observe how comfortable they are in communicating their message and with dealing with the messiness of life.

Q: Are you a lapsed ______ and looking for a reason to go back to church?
R: Skip it and find something more akin to your place, like Brian McLaren or Marcus Borg.

Q: Are you looking to enhance diversity in your congregation?
R: Sure, but only if by diversity, you are using the term broadly or generationally, not so much in terms of race.

I don’t give these caveats because I think the book is bad or difficult  or insufficient; far from it.  I do this because I wanted the book to shout at me or drive me or motivate me or shake me up in some way, and what I received was a very readable, engaging, and occasionally intriguing book that fits within the paradigm it hoped to.  In other words, it rarely surprised me.  And yet, I read it all, pretty quickly, and found myself liking these guys, even though I had some issues with the way the describe the connection between the “Old Covenant” and “New Covenant”.  Though I did want more literary punch, I did get into the conversational tone and felt like I could hang out with them and talk about Jesus.

I did have an interesting experience when reading this and I’m not sure what to make of it.  Twice, while reading the book in public, I had an African American Christian make note of the book and ask me what I thought of it.  Not something that happened when I was reading John Caputo or Philip Clayton in the last couple of months.  I trust that they were taken by the title, and cover image, which does give the impression of a book about our ‘traditional’ use of the term diversity.  The authors, however, don’t really engage racial diversity, but a more universal diversity (Kingdom of GOD diversity, perhaps) through the atonement.

My bottom line: 3 stars (out of 5)

Pros: I like the book for its readability and its earnestness.  My personal learning from the book is in the clarity of voice and keeping to the message.  The diversity in their theology and placing their emphasis on health is pretty unique and is relatively easy for anyone (outside of hardcore fundamentalists) to go along with.

Cons: Not as snappy as the stuff to which I am normally drawn.  I have some trouble with their theology with regards to the covenants and the atonement.

Looking for the Law

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I have posted yesterday’s sermon on my sermon blog here.

This was a big day for me.  It was the first full-on no-notes sermon at the principle worship service.  And I didn’t mess up (which is pretty big, too)!

What I posted on the sermon page is a recreation from my notes, not a transcription.  It is as close to how I would have tried to script what I was saying.

Here is my nutshell argument:

The crux of what we have to work with isn’t simply that Jesus is attacking someone for misunderstanding the rules or that Jesus is this awesome healer, so we should all be happy: it is both, of course: but that what Jesus offers is much more than that: to see GOD’s message as truly being for all of us.  That we don’t support restrictions on the powerless while benefiting from the arrangement ourselves.

In the end, we are called to make sure that everyone gets rest and redemption.  Sabbath is about making your own rest and redemption a priority; and an opportunity to recognize those that have neither.  As Jesus demonstrates, therefore, the Biblical imperitive is, despite our own call for rest and redemption, to bring rest and redemption to those that don’t have it.  That we are to sacrifice our own Sabbath, to bring Sabbath to one who does not have it.

In our emerging culture, I can’t see a greater imperative to us than to help get the people that already have their Sabbath to give a little bit of it so that someone else can have it.  Older generations need to see the importance of sacrificing some comfort to provide for the needs of the younger, for example.

What other ways might the faith benefit from expanding our Sabbath?

Go with the flow

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We make it too easy on ourselves to forgive the avoidance of making difficult decisions.  We choose the status quo over the tremendous restructuring of our world and the expectations we have for society.  As Christians (and/or Jews) many of us should know better, especially in light of what Scripture tells us are GOD’s desires.  For atheists and agnostics, we do it despite the obvious rational opposition.

I was listening to a radio story about California, which is moving heavily from electricity produced by coal and natural gas and toward electricity produced by natural (greener) technologies like wind and solar.  This is good news!  Concerns arose over the less “dependable” nature of these energy producers–as long as we define “dependable” by on-demand predictability and not long-term sustainability.  Personally, I would prefer to live with a couple of brown-outs because its overcast, knowing that we’ll have electricity tomorrow.  But my Mom tells me I was good at delaying gratification when I was growing up.

The debate, which we say is about power sources, is really about something else: are we a people that must have instant gratification or are we a people that adapts and innovates?  Does sustainability take a back seat to instant comforts?

Many pundits bemoan the state of young people and the world we are living in–saying that we don’t know how to sacrifice and work hard.  As the argument goes, those of us in the Internet generations don’t know how to work and therefore are a burden (and failure) in the eyes of our parents.  And yet, it is the world that they have passed down to us that gives priority to strip-mining and devastating extraction methods to produce constant and consistent electricity from which we all benefit.

Because we all seem to want this, it means that we all need to decide to want something else: a tomorrow.

I’m reminded of an argument Theodore Hiebert makes in The Yahwist’s Landscape.  He argues that our typical understanding of humanity’s role to be good stewards of creation comes from the Priestly writer’s creation story (Genesis 1), which was written in the 500s BCE.  The earlier righter, know as the Yahwist (perhaps writing 500 years earlier), who is responsible for the creation story in Genesis 2-3, described a different responsibility.  Verse 23 says:

therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he was taken.

This image is not of steward, subduing creation, as if it is for humans to control the fate of the world.  Instead, it is the image of the farmer, charged with tilling the ground owned by someone else: GOD.

The difference in descriptions is subtle, but substantive.  The world’s resource aren’t ours to use and abuse–but to make grow responsively.  If you think about it, when the land grows week, the farmer gives it a chance to refresh before planting new seeds.  When water is needed for the land, humans don’t pretend to be gods, but we bring sufficient water to the land.

Our religious traditions are based, not on subduing the environment and bending it to our will–blowing off the tops of mountains or drilling for miles sideways under the ocean floor–but on doing enough for us and responding to the needs of the earth and people equally.

The coming energy wars will be a waste of time and life if we don’t first deal with appetite and the human need to dominate.  That is real root of the conflict.