Mudshot Eyes

If you’ve been unsuccessful in reaching us lately, it’s because Krista and I have been two weeks in Europe, half of which was a mission trip to Estonia where our friends Brian and Renee Alex are serving. I’ll write more about that in the next few days.

For now I want to update you about a decision Krista and I have made recently. Starting next Sunday, June 8, we will begin leading worship together at Emmaus Church in Nashville. Both of us are excited and feel strongly that God is leading us to join with them.

The church was started by a Michael Reddish, a friend of mine at work. Emmaus is reaching out to the atypical church crowd: cynics, homosexuals, church dropouts/rejects, strippers, drag kings/queens, along with a few regular folk that don’t fit in. It’s the most unlikely of churches, with a most unconventional approach to a lot of things. I would even say that anyone walking in with regular church expectations has about an 84.5% chance of leaving bewildered or possibly offended in some way. (So if you are looking to visit, there is your official heads-up).

If you know Krista and me at all, you know that we enjoy traveling off of the beaten path, and Emmaus certainly qualifies. However, our attraction is based more upon the people who gather each week and our opportunity to serve in a way that uses both of our gifts. Along with leading worship, I will also have the occasional teaching opportunities. If you want to know a little more about the church, here is their website.

Each week Emmaus’ worship is shared by anywhere between 10-20 people, depending on what week it is. So while our faith adventure intersects with this small band of Christ-followers in downtown Nashville, we ask for your prayers for us and for the church.

History is crucial for understanding not only the life of Jesus, but also the entire biblical message. A good deal of the Old Testament is historical narrative. The Bible tells the story of God’s revelation in the life and history of the people of God. Without that story, it is impossible to know that revelation.

- from The Story of Christianity, by Justo L. González

The history of the church isn’t much different than our lives. Its story is made up of people who regularly made horrible mistakes, got depressed, doubted God, and found every way under the sun to misrepresent the love of God. However, these same people had big dreams and they discovered redemption through their frailty and faith as they met Christ.

We have a lot in common with those who have gone before us.

Over the next few posts, I’m going to highlight five interesting and influential Christian thinkers from throughout the history of the church. This is not intended to be a list of the 5 most influential people. I have simply chosen to highlight five persons in church history who have intrigued me and inspired me:

- Saint Augustine
- Saint Anselm
- Thomas Aquinas
- Martin Luther
- Saint Teresa of Avila

You may have been to one before: a men’s retreat. They exist only for one purpose and that is to make sure we never attend another one.

That’s what I thought, anyway. My church recently claimed that theirs was a men’s retreat for men who didn’t like men’s retreats. They had my number. I’ve never actually been to a men’s retreat, but my experience had me convinced that these were for high-end extroverts and the cheer-led crowd. I have been to a couple of Promise Maker rallies, where we are encouraged to commit to something besides football, beer, and sex. These rallies are usually highly motivational, full of chants and cheers, and peppered with big name speakers. Personally, I appreciated about 20% of the two Promise Keeper events I attended. I figured a men’s retreat would be about the same.

I have to admit that I was wrong on this one. It didn’t carry the kind of life-changing impact that a visit with the apostle Paul might produce, but from the start it was unassuming and humble. The message I got from the beginning was that we were there to hear from God and his Word by taking time to listen on our own, with the group and in worship. I was glad for the intentional times of retreat-within-the-retreat which allowed me to turn off the noise and listen. This is one aspect of our church which I am grateful for. When we show up for Sunday mornings, a retreat, or any other gathering, I know that we won’t be bombarded with noise, heavy church marketing, or flashy presentations.

Christian events are often planned with non-stop activity, with no time and space for quiet and solitude. I spent four days this past week at the Catalyst Conference in Atlanta, GA. Catalyst is one of the leading training and motivational events for leaders in their 20s and 30s.

The event was full of top notch speakers, powerful videos, and lighthearted fun. I realize that an event of this size would probably not attract as many participants with this approach, but I still wonder what it would look like to send 10,000 leaders into an extended time of quiet for reflection and prayer. This may or may not be a good idea for an event of this size, but I can’t help but think that we emphasize noise over quiet in many of our gatherings.

Why can’t the church take five minutes in a service for some intentional quiet? Are we competing for the short attention spans of people who are conditioned to a noise-saturated culture? Are we afraid that people won’t have anything to pray about and think about if we are not talking or singing into the microphones?

Consider how a Sunday morning would feel if we took five minutes out of seventy to simply be still, without any music or talking. It would probably feel awkward at first, but that kind of environment would eventually give our ears and our souls the space we need for listening to One worth hearing.

Every weekend, millions of people join the social phenomenon known as “going to church.” I am one of those millions. Each week, I attend church as part of a ritual that was established since I was painting diapers in the infant section of the church nursery. It is in my blood and my psyche.

However, lately I have struggled with it. The problem with church is that it is made up of human beings.

Since I am a human being, it is obvious that I am part of my problem. I have a hard time getting to know people, I am uncomfortable in large group settings without one or two people that I know. Having to decide who to spend time with is a burden to me, not a blessing. So much for being a community.

As a point of contrast with my previous post on ethnic diversity, today I sat next to a gentleman from somewhere in southern Asia (India was my guess). It was one of those situations where there isn’t enough room for a one-seat “cushion” between us. He had to sit right next to me, cozying up to my over-enlarged space bubble. He was one of a few people I couldn’t help but notice. In front of me was a balding mid-lifer, at church by himself. On the other side of the aisle was an elderly woman sitting next to a young hipster with an intentionally random hairstyle. It was a small but attractive picture of diversity, and one of the reasons I love our new church.

Indian guy couldn’t sing worth a lick, grandma was slow to pick up any song written in the past twenty years, and the hipster was probably wishing the acoustics were a little better in the chapel where we meet. But as we sang “Just As I Am… O Lamb of God, I come, I come,” I felt connected because I saw and heard in them the same need for God that I have.

I’ll continue to have a hard time getting to know people, but I am learning lately that if I look closely I will see that I am in common with those sitting next to me each week.

That just might give me the encouragement I need to say, “Hi, my name is…”

Michael Reddish has again inspired me to reflect on a topic from his blog. Michael and a few committed friends have started a church in downtown Nashville called Emmaus Church. He is asking the question of whether or not the church has a racial segregation problem, and how to fix it.

The point of this discussion is not to decide whether we should try and reach other cultures with the Gospel, but whether or not local churches should intentionally try to attract people with a wide variety of cultural backgrounds. As I reflect on this, I wonder what thoughts Brian Alex would contribute to this conversation, as he and his family are answering God’s call to minister to a specific people group in Estonia? Perhaps he will be led to chime in with a comment (hint, hint).

I’ve never tried starting a church in a downtown area of a big city (or anywhere, for that matter), but I have spent a lot of time in church, including some churches of other cultures and races than mine.

Is it possible on this side of heaven to have a local church body that meets the differing cultural needs of every race? Generally speaking, I don’t think that is realistic. The world is a big place, full of a wide spectrum of languages and customs, so the idea that a church can effectively minister and communicate the gospel to every conceivable people group in their week-to-week gatherings is a little hard for me to swallow.

It’s OK that the Korean church down the street doesn’t meet with us. It’s OK that our church doesn’t try to incorporate every conceivable cultural custom in our worship service. Each culture has distinct ways in which they speak about and celebrate the Gospel. We don’t have to strain ourselves to try and be one of those multicultural churches, just so we can say we did it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be around Asian, Hispanic, African-American, Indian, Middle-Eastern, or Southern Fried White people. I enjoy meeting and learning from people who see the world through a different hue of glasses. When they want to be a part of our church body I will offer them a huge, loving welcome. When I visit them at their place of worship, I would guess that they will do the same for me.

In my five years on the leadership team of Parkway Baptist Church in Goodlettsville, TN, I saw the difference God can make in the hearts of people who are open to see racial walls come down. We partnered with Christ Temple Christian Center, a non-denominational African-American church in Madison. This was due in part to the initiative taken by people who had a vision for unity. Doug and Ann Hardin were a big part of that, along with the pastor at that time, Jimmy Moore. “Brother Jimmy” was an all white-meat, old-school Tennessee boy just shy of retirement. These were regular folk, who wanted to make a big change with some God-empowered small steps. We didn’t merge our churches into one “multicultural” body, but we did move to loosen the bonds of racial separation and fear.

Based on that experience, here are a few things that I believe can make a difference in any congregation that wants to disrupt cultural racial barriers, without sacrificing the distinctives that make up their unique identity:

First of all, welcome anyone and everyone when they come through the door. Operate in love, not in fear. Then God will send people your way and skin shade won’t mean a thing.

Second, make an effort to meet with local churches who are made up of a different ethnic background. Have the occasional “awkward” worship gathering where you celebrate God using songs and practices from both congregations, knowing that half the group won’t completely relate to half the songs. Have dinner with them, and enjoy one another’s company.

Finally, as you occasionally gather together, listen to the stories of the people. Learn about how they view the world and the gospel. Then when you meet with them, you will discover that you are not with “foriegners,” but with fellow sojourners in Christ, who happen to have different customs.

It didn’t matter that Parkway Baptist Church was mostly made up of blue-collar white folk. We did it anyway, thanks to the vision of people like Brother Jimmy and the Hardins. And even though Parkway didn’t proceed to incorporate a black gospel choir in their weekly worship, something significant was happening to those who opened their hearts: a permanent perspective shift. We were learning to be who God had called us to be, without shutting out from our hearts those who were different.

Jesus shared the meaning of the Kingdom by using parables. Ever wonder why Jesus didn’t just come out and say it? Why hide the message in stories that sometimes leave us with more questions than answers?

McLaren’s insight into Jesus’ parables helps those of us who have wished that Jesus would have just come out and said what he meant. The benefit of a parable, he says, is that they “entice their hearers into new territory.” He explains further:

With a clear and easy explanation, hearers can listen and achieve understanding and then go on their way, independent of the teacher. But when a parable confounds them, it invites them to ask questions, so they continue to depend on the teacher himself, not just their independent understanding of his words (pg. 45-46).

One of the most important points of this book is that the message of Jesus is hidden, not only in his parables, but also within those of us who follow him, no matter our denominational or political background. It can be easy to assume that my perspective is the only one in which the truth can be found. However, the gospel is hidden in all who are being transformed by the Spirit, even Democrats, Republicans, Catholics, Southern Baptists and Episcopals; each one of us a living parable, full of God’s message of transformation.

So Jesus told about his message with parables, demonstrated it with miracles, and then validated it with his death and resurrection. Is it any wonder that he described discipleship as a narrow, difficult way? I can’t calculate or figure out Jesus’ message completely, but once I accept it, I am brought close to him as my Teacher, my Friend, and my Lord.

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Though it is a little longer than I think was necessary, I recommend The Secret Message of Jesus. It will challenge your assumptions and put the gospel close in front of you for a very personal examination, leaving you with a desire to let Jesus initiate radical change in your everyday life.

Use this link to buy it at Amazon.com.