To recap the other three parts, I'd like to use a surfing analogy.
When I left college, I went through rough and rocky waters. I successfully saved a kid from getting eaten by a shark, but exhausted myself getting him back to safety. As I set out to for new beaches, I got stung by jellyfish and washed ashore in need of rest and recuperation. After I recovered, I set out again, only to find a group of surfers who were more concerned with how cool their boards looked rather than what they could do with them. Frustrated, I went back to the shore, sat down and contemplated whether or not surfing was really worth it.
This is the story of how I found myself surfing again, next week will be about what I'm doing now and how I got there.
A week went by after I'd been to the church across the street. My friends and family encouraged me to look elsewhere and to keep my chin up. Internally, I was divided. I wanted to go back to church, but was deeply tired of the business marketing culture in many churches. I wanted nothing to do with a large organization and I didn't want to hop from church to church each week trying to find some place that fit me. I just wanted to find a place where I could sit in the back and not be bothered while I figured things out.
I google searched the name of the city I was in plus the word church. I checked out a few websites, but the one I settled on impressed me in two ways: they presented themselves as a relational people and they were committed to praying for the outreach of their church and transforming lives.
How did I know they were a relational people? It wasn't the buzzwords. It was an article written by the pastor explaining his congregation and the vision of their ministry. Reading the article, the church didn't sound too big, so I decided to give it a try.
So, I rode my bicycle to church. Five-finger toes and all. I was wearing sweats, a t-shirt and an athletic jacket. I had also recently shaved my head. In other words, I was doing my best to look like I had no clue what this Christianity stuff was all about. I wanted to see how their people would react. If my appearance was no big deal, then I might consider staying, but if I got condescending looks I would have left and not returned.
Riding my bike to church, in the street no less, was a rush. I recommend it for anyone who wants to put some excitement and adrenaline into their Sunday morning. That and you can get a pretty good workout too. The fresh air was invigorating. It was a blessing just to be outside and enjoy the weather. I really didn't need much more from going inside the building. Riding the bike was enough.
Turns out what I thought was a medium to small sized church was... large. Really large. Like several thousand people large. On the outside looking in, it looked like a normal place. There was no super chic sign or big cross out front or some banner waving in the wind about why this place was cool. On the outside they looked pretty normal.
In fact they were so normal there was no bicycle parking! And come to think of it, I don't think I've seen many churches that have places to park bikes. Its like we discount traveling to church as part of the worship experience, or the wonders morning exercise can do for a frustrated spirit.
I circled the building and looked for a place to park. I ended up tying my bike to a tree near the children's wing. I didn't know that at the time, from the exterior it just looked like another part of the sprawling structure. The door attendant had a smile on his face when he saw me ride up. The kind of smile that said, "That's a great idea," and "I wonder where you're going to park that." He seemed amused that the best place to park the bike was in fact the grass next to a tree. I shook his hand as I walked in and wandered around to find the main sanctuary.
Wandered was the right word. While the outside looked like a building, the inside was spacious, clean, well painted and used art to fill up its largeness. Art was subtly a part of the building, as were the many spaces to sit on a chair or couch. These features were used to enhance the facility and communicate the values of the church while filling up the massive space that otherwise would have been rather blank and impersonal. In short I could tell a lot of thought had gone into how the inside looked and felt. The entry spaces felt like a very well done coffee shop.
Their worship space did not feel like a coffee shop. It felt like a place of worship, even with the stadium seating.
I sat in the back. The worship music was worship music. The lights were lights. The preaching was preaching.
At the end of the service I continued to explore the church building. I found their coffee shop and I found their prayer chapel, which was in no way connected to the main sanctuary. It was literally a place dedicated to prayer. Nothing more, nothing less. That's simply what it was and how it was used.
I rode home. What I appreciated that first Sunday was this: their faith was a subtle part of everything they did. I could see it incorporated into every aspect of their building and internal structures. I could tell creating this effort took a lot of teamwork and organization, but even so I didn't once feel singled out or marketed to. They were simply glad people came.
That was the beginning of weekly rides to the church down the road.
I could easily go into more detail about every tiny nuance of this church's infrastructure, the other things I saw that impressed me, how they worship, what I saw that was different about their worship, but I consider these things non-essentials. The point is they were welcoming without being overzealous about it. They were thoughtful and purposeful, without being caught up in how thoughtful and purposeful they were. Their focus was worshipping Jesus, being transformed into his image and being a part of that process for others on this road we call life.
That's been the lasting impression of the church down the road, they have a simple focus, yet a powerful ministry. And if I were to describe what their focus is? It's to minister, regardless of power.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Perseverance: Part 3 of what I learned about the church post college
Perseverance: keeping on despite difficulties and hardships.
Finding the right word to describe the move from North Dallas to Irving has been difficult. The first part in this series was about damage done, the second part was about my recovery and this part... this part is about the events that led up to me walking out of a church saying, "I'm NEVER going back THERE again." There, in this case, is a specific church across the street from where I currently live. Even now, just thinking about what I saw and experienced makes me angry. My anger rises from a place of truth seeking and is justified (which is why this note was almost called defiance). I will not back down from what I saw and experienced, because what the church across the street practices is wrong. In all my experience of going to churches, even to the ones who have hurt me, I would go back to them as a place to worship God. Why? Because I believe the other places I have been are seeking truth and discovering what it means to live it out. They are not perfect. There is a difference between the broken path of seeking truth and the manufactured lies of manipulation that people use to support their version of the truth.
My journey didn't start with anger. It started with peace and a desire to extend grace. A desire to live, worship and work in the same community, even in a community that didn't exactly fit my pre-conceived notions of what 'church' should be like. I was willing to set my culture aside to see what was going on, as long as they lived the truth in their worship experience. Over the course of four weeks, five services and attempts at getting involved I became convicted they were not corporately living the truth.
On week one I was impressed. I arrived early, but I didn't exactly know where their front door was; incidentally I came in the back. On my left was a chapel with stained glass windows, pews and an organ. As I'd seen this kind of split chapel thing before I didn't think much of it, but thought the idea of the room was pretty cool. Don't forget your heritage. Wandering around their well kept facility with their numerous staff and volunteers all preparing for the service, it appeared many people were engaged in the service at the church. Continuing my exploration, I found their statements of faith, made my way to the sanctuary and sat down with my pen to circle, highlight and annotate what I found interesting before the service started. I could tell that some of their beliefs were very grounded and supported, others I had questions about. Instead of having a sit-down meeting with one of their staff I chose to see how they lived out their beliefs.
Before the service started, Becky greeted me in my seat. She asked how I was doing, if I needed anything and was very warm and congenial. I asked her if I could have a Bible, to which she went in search of one and ended up giving me hers. Becky left a great first impression. I could tell she had been coached to care about everyone who came in to their facility. I watched her do this same greeting routine every week I was there.
At the end of week one was Good Friday. A day I've experienced as a reflection of the suffering of Christ, his desire for the world to be whole, contemplate my own sins, find forgiveness and move on. In other words its a pretty somber day. I arrived late, but ALL the volunteers were helpful, looked me in the eyes, smiled and helped me find a seat. No kidding. I remember coming in and ALL their heads turned with a smile. It was kinda creepy, in a warm and welcoming way.
The service did not meet my expectations. They celebrated the life of Christ. Preached passionately about forgiveness and had a 'come down and accept Jesus' moment. They also took an offering and spent time talking about why tithing was important (if you want God to bless you give to God; and they mentioned their five different ways of giving money), mentioned their artists latest album and seemed pretty happy about Good Friday.
That was the strangest Good Friday service I've ever been too. I obviously had my hang ups, but talked my way out of it, because at least they talked about Jesus.
Easter follows Good Friday. Easter is usually the day we celebrate the life of Jesus, and it's supposed to be a celebration. They nailed the celebration part, but they also had the tithing talk, album release and something else: they talked about water baptism. Their exegesis of a single passage about baptism was good, but they only looked at one passage. And then invited five (no joke they labeled all five categories (it might have been four, but definitely not six)) to come forward and be baptized in the parking lot. They basically said, "if you haven't followed the baptism formula then you aren't Christian." (to which point I would have liked to have answered back, "I'm Catholic!") The way they handled that whole talk was masterful. Not kidding, they were super persuasive. When it comes to public persuasive speaking the leaders at this church had mastered the art form. After the service I decided to check out what was happening in the parking lot.
The parking lot had dunk tanks. Okay they were more like cattle troughs. They had designated baptizers, people with towels, black t-shirts plus shorts for people to get baptized in, a video and photography crew, a microphone being passed around (yep total safety hazard) and people to applaud. It was a baptismal frenzy!
I found the whole thing kinda out of place. Their was a definite communal celebration, but it also felt like their was a communal pressure to fit in. This started to nag at me, but again, I decided to push it down and come back the next week.
The next week they announced how many people they had baptized and how many people had come to faith. They also had the tithing talk, mentioned the album release, had the come to Jesus moments and then I picked up on something else. Every service they highlighted a volunteer and the whole congregation would applaud them. At first I thought this was cool: its nice to be recognized. But again I felt that pressure to conform, that only the coolest people were a part of the church, volunteered and were worthy of being recognized. I also noticed that every service they talked about how great the band was, and people would also talk about how great the pastor was. There was a lot of praise going around, but it didn't feel real. It felt like a means of control, telling people that coming to this particular building and doing things our way was the only way to live. This really bothered me, and I couldn't push it down any more. Yet, I decided to give them another chance.
As a young man in a new city, I wanted to get plugged in somewhere. Over the course of my time at the church across the street, they announced the start of small groups. I decided I would get involved with one along my interest lines. I wanted to be a part of a men's bible study. They didn't have one. I could play soccer, football, basketball, golf or do some kind of other activity, but not bible study. Not as a young man, with other young men. If I was a woman, they had at least four different kinds of women's bible study. They had been meticulously planned around life stages, but there was no men's bible study to be found. Unless I wanted to be part of a young co-eds group (which honestly felt like another form of manipulation and lack of in-depth study). I inquired about this lack of men gathering together, searched to see if there was ANY group of men who were gather together to read and study the word together, but there wasn't a single one. Not one! At that church it is not important that men get together and read the word, they simply have to accept what is preached to them.
My last week there I walked in with questions. I heard the tithing talk (did you know we have five ways you can give us money?), the call to accept Jesus (for the fourth week in a row) the volunteer praise, the artist praise and the pastor praise: there was so much praise in that building I couldn't hear them praising God. The final nail in the coffin was when they brought out children to praise their leaders. I couldn't stand it anymore. I walked out.
That beautiful chapel I mentioned at the start? That's where the old people worship. The people who helped fund this church and build it into what it is now. They had been removed from the rest of the body. A part of me wonders if they know what's happening in their main sanctuary. If they know they've traded the worship of God for the worship of their people. If that's what they wanted, or if they were persuaded into the lie by persuasive preachers who talked up Christian values, but had motives for themselves.
My anger consumed me. How is it that a group of sincere God seeking people could end up wasting so much? How is it that they got caught up in their own beliefs, but their beliefs don't match who they are? How is it that they could so meticulously plan every aspect of their services, festivities and sermons but forget to make room for God? How dare they make such a mockery of the gospel that Jesus bled and died for! They replaced it with happy feelings and crowd approval. And for what? Money!? A place of honor at the table!? Higher numbers of baptism but lower numbers of disciples?
Disgusting.
I refused to go to any church the next week.
In my anger I lashed out about the violence we do to ourselves when we only focus on Sunday. That's all the church across the street seemed to care about. They spent time together, but that time seemed like a refuge from the rest of the world, instead of a encouraging each other onwards to go out, be in the world and work towards its healing and restoration.
I couldn't drink their kool-aid of self-praise anymore.
In my anger and disgust something else revived. A desire for the Church to be whole. I know there will always be places like the church across the street, and I will always have a passionate disgust for the violence they do to the gospel, but I believe that we all can be one. We will not all practice the same way, but we all can live the same gospel. I have met groups of Christians whose beliefs look very similar to those of the church across the street, but live them out in a way that is holy and pleasing to the LORD, despite their personal imperfections.
As for my personal stance to the lies I encountered across the street? Let them preach. Let God judge. It is impossible to preach Jesus perfectly. There is a difference between mistaken preaching and purposeful actions. I believe the church across the street has no clue the violence they are doing to the gospel, and its not my place to barge in, as an outsider, and tell them how to fix themselves. I would need a relationship with them first before I could speak truth into their lives. As there is no relationship, there is no opportunity to speak truth.
A week after I quit Sunday, I went to a different church. How I ended up there is another story.
Finding the right word to describe the move from North Dallas to Irving has been difficult. The first part in this series was about damage done, the second part was about my recovery and this part... this part is about the events that led up to me walking out of a church saying, "I'm NEVER going back THERE again." There, in this case, is a specific church across the street from where I currently live. Even now, just thinking about what I saw and experienced makes me angry. My anger rises from a place of truth seeking and is justified (which is why this note was almost called defiance). I will not back down from what I saw and experienced, because what the church across the street practices is wrong. In all my experience of going to churches, even to the ones who have hurt me, I would go back to them as a place to worship God. Why? Because I believe the other places I have been are seeking truth and discovering what it means to live it out. They are not perfect. There is a difference between the broken path of seeking truth and the manufactured lies of manipulation that people use to support their version of the truth.
My journey didn't start with anger. It started with peace and a desire to extend grace. A desire to live, worship and work in the same community, even in a community that didn't exactly fit my pre-conceived notions of what 'church' should be like. I was willing to set my culture aside to see what was going on, as long as they lived the truth in their worship experience. Over the course of four weeks, five services and attempts at getting involved I became convicted they were not corporately living the truth.
On week one I was impressed. I arrived early, but I didn't exactly know where their front door was; incidentally I came in the back. On my left was a chapel with stained glass windows, pews and an organ. As I'd seen this kind of split chapel thing before I didn't think much of it, but thought the idea of the room was pretty cool. Don't forget your heritage. Wandering around their well kept facility with their numerous staff and volunteers all preparing for the service, it appeared many people were engaged in the service at the church. Continuing my exploration, I found their statements of faith, made my way to the sanctuary and sat down with my pen to circle, highlight and annotate what I found interesting before the service started. I could tell that some of their beliefs were very grounded and supported, others I had questions about. Instead of having a sit-down meeting with one of their staff I chose to see how they lived out their beliefs.
Before the service started, Becky greeted me in my seat. She asked how I was doing, if I needed anything and was very warm and congenial. I asked her if I could have a Bible, to which she went in search of one and ended up giving me hers. Becky left a great first impression. I could tell she had been coached to care about everyone who came in to their facility. I watched her do this same greeting routine every week I was there.
At the end of week one was Good Friday. A day I've experienced as a reflection of the suffering of Christ, his desire for the world to be whole, contemplate my own sins, find forgiveness and move on. In other words its a pretty somber day. I arrived late, but ALL the volunteers were helpful, looked me in the eyes, smiled and helped me find a seat. No kidding. I remember coming in and ALL their heads turned with a smile. It was kinda creepy, in a warm and welcoming way.
The service did not meet my expectations. They celebrated the life of Christ. Preached passionately about forgiveness and had a 'come down and accept Jesus' moment. They also took an offering and spent time talking about why tithing was important (if you want God to bless you give to God; and they mentioned their five different ways of giving money), mentioned their artists latest album and seemed pretty happy about Good Friday.
That was the strangest Good Friday service I've ever been too. I obviously had my hang ups, but talked my way out of it, because at least they talked about Jesus.
Easter follows Good Friday. Easter is usually the day we celebrate the life of Jesus, and it's supposed to be a celebration. They nailed the celebration part, but they also had the tithing talk, album release and something else: they talked about water baptism. Their exegesis of a single passage about baptism was good, but they only looked at one passage. And then invited five (no joke they labeled all five categories (it might have been four, but definitely not six)) to come forward and be baptized in the parking lot. They basically said, "if you haven't followed the baptism formula then you aren't Christian." (to which point I would have liked to have answered back, "I'm Catholic!") The way they handled that whole talk was masterful. Not kidding, they were super persuasive. When it comes to public persuasive speaking the leaders at this church had mastered the art form. After the service I decided to check out what was happening in the parking lot.
The parking lot had dunk tanks. Okay they were more like cattle troughs. They had designated baptizers, people with towels, black t-shirts plus shorts for people to get baptized in, a video and photography crew, a microphone being passed around (yep total safety hazard) and people to applaud. It was a baptismal frenzy!
I found the whole thing kinda out of place. Their was a definite communal celebration, but it also felt like their was a communal pressure to fit in. This started to nag at me, but again, I decided to push it down and come back the next week.
The next week they announced how many people they had baptized and how many people had come to faith. They also had the tithing talk, mentioned the album release, had the come to Jesus moments and then I picked up on something else. Every service they highlighted a volunteer and the whole congregation would applaud them. At first I thought this was cool: its nice to be recognized. But again I felt that pressure to conform, that only the coolest people were a part of the church, volunteered and were worthy of being recognized. I also noticed that every service they talked about how great the band was, and people would also talk about how great the pastor was. There was a lot of praise going around, but it didn't feel real. It felt like a means of control, telling people that coming to this particular building and doing things our way was the only way to live. This really bothered me, and I couldn't push it down any more. Yet, I decided to give them another chance.
As a young man in a new city, I wanted to get plugged in somewhere. Over the course of my time at the church across the street, they announced the start of small groups. I decided I would get involved with one along my interest lines. I wanted to be a part of a men's bible study. They didn't have one. I could play soccer, football, basketball, golf or do some kind of other activity, but not bible study. Not as a young man, with other young men. If I was a woman, they had at least four different kinds of women's bible study. They had been meticulously planned around life stages, but there was no men's bible study to be found. Unless I wanted to be part of a young co-eds group (which honestly felt like another form of manipulation and lack of in-depth study). I inquired about this lack of men gathering together, searched to see if there was ANY group of men who were gather together to read and study the word together, but there wasn't a single one. Not one! At that church it is not important that men get together and read the word, they simply have to accept what is preached to them.
My last week there I walked in with questions. I heard the tithing talk (did you know we have five ways you can give us money?), the call to accept Jesus (for the fourth week in a row) the volunteer praise, the artist praise and the pastor praise: there was so much praise in that building I couldn't hear them praising God. The final nail in the coffin was when they brought out children to praise their leaders. I couldn't stand it anymore. I walked out.
That beautiful chapel I mentioned at the start? That's where the old people worship. The people who helped fund this church and build it into what it is now. They had been removed from the rest of the body. A part of me wonders if they know what's happening in their main sanctuary. If they know they've traded the worship of God for the worship of their people. If that's what they wanted, or if they were persuaded into the lie by persuasive preachers who talked up Christian values, but had motives for themselves.
My anger consumed me. How is it that a group of sincere God seeking people could end up wasting so much? How is it that they got caught up in their own beliefs, but their beliefs don't match who they are? How is it that they could so meticulously plan every aspect of their services, festivities and sermons but forget to make room for God? How dare they make such a mockery of the gospel that Jesus bled and died for! They replaced it with happy feelings and crowd approval. And for what? Money!? A place of honor at the table!? Higher numbers of baptism but lower numbers of disciples?
Disgusting.
I refused to go to any church the next week.
In my anger I lashed out about the violence we do to ourselves when we only focus on Sunday. That's all the church across the street seemed to care about. They spent time together, but that time seemed like a refuge from the rest of the world, instead of a encouraging each other onwards to go out, be in the world and work towards its healing and restoration.
I couldn't drink their kool-aid of self-praise anymore.
In my anger and disgust something else revived. A desire for the Church to be whole. I know there will always be places like the church across the street, and I will always have a passionate disgust for the violence they do to the gospel, but I believe that we all can be one. We will not all practice the same way, but we all can live the same gospel. I have met groups of Christians whose beliefs look very similar to those of the church across the street, but live them out in a way that is holy and pleasing to the LORD, despite their personal imperfections.
As for my personal stance to the lies I encountered across the street? Let them preach. Let God judge. It is impossible to preach Jesus perfectly. There is a difference between mistaken preaching and purposeful actions. I believe the church across the street has no clue the violence they are doing to the gospel, and its not my place to barge in, as an outsider, and tell them how to fix themselves. I would need a relationship with them first before I could speak truth into their lives. As there is no relationship, there is no opportunity to speak truth.
A week after I quit Sunday, I went to a different church. How I ended up there is another story.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Rehabilitation & Therapy: Part II of what I learned about church post college.
Like last week's writing, I've fretted over what to say in this note. I've fretted because this chapter involves my friends, family and people I live near and love dearly. I've needed time to rehearse and review my own timeline of events to make sure I get my story straight. As the final pieces have clicked in my mind, I am now ready to share.
The Journey to Texas
Texas. It's that mythical place you've heard about, that people talk about, that just sort of is. I was happy with my fairy tale version of the place and never had the desire to go there, let alone live there. When I moved with my parents to Missouri post summer of graduation I had no where to go. Or at least that's what I felt. My dream of being in my home state had been painfully crushed. My family was going through hard times and I knew I needed to go somewhere other than where I was. I didn't know where to go. Thankfully my brother's invited me to check out where they were living: Texas and Georgia.
Options
I visited both places, and really enjoyed the time I spent with family. The question was, "What next?" In biblical times when people were perplexed and confused they did two things: they fasted and they prayed. I decided to do the same. Through prayer and fasting I set my eyes on Texas, even though I didn't have the resources to get there, let alone stay there. My parents gave me their car (a major sacrifice for them at the time) and my aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins let me stay with them while I searched for work.
Baggage
I didn't drive into Texas a whole person. There were pieces of me scattered around the country, pieces I knew I couldn't drive backwards to pick up. I knew I needed to keep going, but I was very selective about where that direction was. My tolerance for not-quite-Christian-behavior in churches was low. One sniff of something amiss and I passionately stated that's not a place I wanted to be. I caught a whiff of that something amiss at my aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins' church. Pain has a funny way of making us say terrible things we wouldn't say when whole. I said some really bad things about that church to the people who were graciously letting me live in their home. I drove to the other side of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex to go to church and be involved.
In a car without AC.
During the second hottest summer on record in Texas.
With no radio.
With at least an hour drive. One way.
I am stubborn.
Healing
Grace can be found in the oddest of places. Life is a journey and not all roads can be traveled forever. I didn't know this when I first showed up in North Richland Hills, but I gave my heart to that church, and I received more than I was capable of giving. I learned more about God's Redemption and Forgiveness, about his desire to re-unite his family and heal the fractures of our broken world. I heard this message in a small church plant that was struggling for life. The church plant ended up not surviving, but the lessons I learned there will be with me for the rest of my life. A very small place spoke the words I needed to hear and encouraged me to continue on. I am very grateful to them for the ministry that happened in that place, and I am proud to have been a part of the believers who made that place up.
Re-visiting my sins
As time passed and I returned to North Dallas to re-focus my life, to experience what it means to live AND work in the same community. God has a sense of irony and humor, as the one place I didn't want to go, I ended up going to. My aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins' church. There I had been a change in leadership while I was gone. I started an internship in the youth group right away. I had to confront the nasty unkind things I had said months before, and by the grace of God my family forgave me. I started out fresh, and was on the path to wholeness, a path that suddenly pointed me back to the Northwest
Making the Big Time where you are
Through a series of odd life events my parents knew someone in a small Oregonian town who was looking for a youth minister type person. It wasn't a traditional church setting. (I really wasn't interested in a traditional church setting at the time, even though I was interning at a church). The ministry team in this small town Oregon flew me out to visit and interview. That week changed my life.
I didn't know what to expect, but what I saw, heard and experienced was something I was looking for: perseverance. This small town and its ministry had been changing lives and raising up leaders for more than 30 years. As I spoke with the people who were involved in the ministry I sensed a very near and present presence of the Holy Spirit. These people did not have all the answers, but they were committed to seeking God as they sought the future direction for their ministry. I met the man who started it all, building the ministry out of his basement. He's one of the most passionate and focused people I have ever met. He's transforming the lives of students in a very simple, tangible real way. And because he's been at it so long, he's changed the shape of his town and the surrounding towns. He's bringing people to know Jesus. That's the focus of his ministry. They do a lot of fun stuff, but the goal is for every student to know Christ. Everything they do points to that one central goal. When I looked him in the eyes I could see that fire burning. I know it's still burning today
Back to North Texas
I didn't get the job. But I didn't forget what I felt in that small often overlooked place in Oregon. It challenged my thinking of church, and it made me ask, "Are we doing it wrong?" Wrong as in missing out on the central part of the gospel where everything we do points people to Christ, AND we get to do it with all of our passion and personalities intact. It's no wonder that a few months after returning, I quit the part of the internship that I didn't see pointing people to Christ.
Out of 'church' into the fire
It wasn't long after I quit part of my internship that I stopped going to 'church' entirely. 'Church' is that thing we do on Sundays. It's a cultural practice that is the first hallmark we think of when asked, "Do you go to church?" But the church isn't a place, its a people. I kept on with a small group of men and I kept on in the youth group until it stopped for the summer. What was I doing with my Sunday mornings? Working. With a Hindu-based group at my place of work.
Religion versus Truth
The not quite-Hindus are some of the nicest people I've met. They have social ministries, form a tight-nit community, eat a lot of wonderful Indian food and sing and dance and celebrate their culture. They teach about character development, about the inner voice that guides us, about lessons we can learn from nature. They are a well organized and happy people. In the 6 months I immersed myself in their culture, there is one thing I didn't feel: the power of the Holy Spirit. I also never heard about the power of sacrificial love. These two things are what separates Christianity from everything else. If a church only preaches character development, about inner guiding voices, lessons from nature and sings, dances and celebrates their culture with amazing food it is not Christian. What I learned is that are groups of people who are much better at practicing the social aspects of the gospel than some churches, but social ministry alone is not the call of the gospel. It's to enter into a relationship with God through His sacrificial love and be transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Coming home
I remember my first Sunday back in 'church'. The service felt very foreign. I suddenly knew why people didn't understand our 'church' services. They are odd. And the church I attended in North Texas wasn't even liturgical! I found aspects of those ministering during the service odd: AKA the tech teams. I understand how using technology can 'enhance' a service, but I had a hard time calling sitting behind a camera service to God, even when I was doing it for my friends who I knew would be watching it later. I wanted something more. So I quit the tech team (even though I've had a relationship with tech teams since my early teens). I couldn't spend my time doing something I wasn't convicted would be the best use of my time to bring people closer to God.
Convicted
I'll never forget the 'expectations' I heard about what it means to be Christian: 1 hour in a 'sunday' service, 1 hour in a small group, 1 hour of service. IF all I got to do was spend 1 hour on Sunday than fine. IF all I got was 1 hour with a small group of people seeking God than fine. But IF I only had 1 hour to serve my community it wasn't going to be as a parking lot attendant or camera man. I understand this formulaic package is a starting point. I get it's designed for people who are very busy, have limited time and are trying out this thing called Christianity. However, I utterly reject this notion. It's cheap. Christianity is about selling out your ENTIRE life. Not just 3 hours of a week, but every hour in every day to the glory of God. This means I can glorify God while sleeping, eating, working, practicing my fitness, reading, washing dishes, sending an email, answering my phone, talking with others, playing sports, coaching sports, writing blogs, cooking meals, texting, etc. All day, every day, I never stop practicing my faith. It touches every aspect of my life. It should be in every word, not just the good words, but the bad ones too.
I know this all-day-all-of-the-time-life is the kind of life the man who told me this formula wants his people to live. I know this because he lives this way. If people could smell bad because of their closeness to God, he reeks. He's not the smelliest minister I have ever met, but he has a very strong stench all his own. And he encourages his staff to smell as bad or worse than he does. He is a model for the church, even though I believe some of the particulars are off. Because even though I don't agree with everything he says, I believe in the direction he's trying to point people and the way he wants them to go. He wants them to find Jesus, even though his eyes aren't on fire all the time.
And when the time came for me to leave North Dallas and move southwest I was sad to go. I missed the church I met at the 'church'. Even though I'm not too far away I still don't get to see them often enough. I don't get to hear enough of the power works they are doing in their community. I don't get to hear enough of the lives that are being changed through the ordinary people empowered by God. I don't get to talk with my tech team friends and appreciate the work they do, especially because it's work I don't want to do. And I don't get enough time to say thank you to a group of people who helped and challenged me on my path of healing and growth.
The Journey to Texas
Texas. It's that mythical place you've heard about, that people talk about, that just sort of is. I was happy with my fairy tale version of the place and never had the desire to go there, let alone live there. When I moved with my parents to Missouri post summer of graduation I had no where to go. Or at least that's what I felt. My dream of being in my home state had been painfully crushed. My family was going through hard times and I knew I needed to go somewhere other than where I was. I didn't know where to go. Thankfully my brother's invited me to check out where they were living: Texas and Georgia.
Options
I visited both places, and really enjoyed the time I spent with family. The question was, "What next?" In biblical times when people were perplexed and confused they did two things: they fasted and they prayed. I decided to do the same. Through prayer and fasting I set my eyes on Texas, even though I didn't have the resources to get there, let alone stay there. My parents gave me their car (a major sacrifice for them at the time) and my aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins let me stay with them while I searched for work.
Baggage
I didn't drive into Texas a whole person. There were pieces of me scattered around the country, pieces I knew I couldn't drive backwards to pick up. I knew I needed to keep going, but I was very selective about where that direction was. My tolerance for not-quite-Christian-behavior in churches was low. One sniff of something amiss and I passionately stated that's not a place I wanted to be. I caught a whiff of that something amiss at my aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins' church. Pain has a funny way of making us say terrible things we wouldn't say when whole. I said some really bad things about that church to the people who were graciously letting me live in their home. I drove to the other side of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex to go to church and be involved.
In a car without AC.
During the second hottest summer on record in Texas.
With no radio.
With at least an hour drive. One way.
I am stubborn.
Healing
Grace can be found in the oddest of places. Life is a journey and not all roads can be traveled forever. I didn't know this when I first showed up in North Richland Hills, but I gave my heart to that church, and I received more than I was capable of giving. I learned more about God's Redemption and Forgiveness, about his desire to re-unite his family and heal the fractures of our broken world. I heard this message in a small church plant that was struggling for life. The church plant ended up not surviving, but the lessons I learned there will be with me for the rest of my life. A very small place spoke the words I needed to hear and encouraged me to continue on. I am very grateful to them for the ministry that happened in that place, and I am proud to have been a part of the believers who made that place up.
Re-visiting my sins
As time passed and I returned to North Dallas to re-focus my life, to experience what it means to live AND work in the same community. God has a sense of irony and humor, as the one place I didn't want to go, I ended up going to. My aunt, uncle and two wonderful cousins' church. There I had been a change in leadership while I was gone. I started an internship in the youth group right away. I had to confront the nasty unkind things I had said months before, and by the grace of God my family forgave me. I started out fresh, and was on the path to wholeness, a path that suddenly pointed me back to the Northwest
Making the Big Time where you are
Through a series of odd life events my parents knew someone in a small Oregonian town who was looking for a youth minister type person. It wasn't a traditional church setting. (I really wasn't interested in a traditional church setting at the time, even though I was interning at a church). The ministry team in this small town Oregon flew me out to visit and interview. That week changed my life.
I didn't know what to expect, but what I saw, heard and experienced was something I was looking for: perseverance. This small town and its ministry had been changing lives and raising up leaders for more than 30 years. As I spoke with the people who were involved in the ministry I sensed a very near and present presence of the Holy Spirit. These people did not have all the answers, but they were committed to seeking God as they sought the future direction for their ministry. I met the man who started it all, building the ministry out of his basement. He's one of the most passionate and focused people I have ever met. He's transforming the lives of students in a very simple, tangible real way. And because he's been at it so long, he's changed the shape of his town and the surrounding towns. He's bringing people to know Jesus. That's the focus of his ministry. They do a lot of fun stuff, but the goal is for every student to know Christ. Everything they do points to that one central goal. When I looked him in the eyes I could see that fire burning. I know it's still burning today
Back to North Texas
I didn't get the job. But I didn't forget what I felt in that small often overlooked place in Oregon. It challenged my thinking of church, and it made me ask, "Are we doing it wrong?" Wrong as in missing out on the central part of the gospel where everything we do points people to Christ, AND we get to do it with all of our passion and personalities intact. It's no wonder that a few months after returning, I quit the part of the internship that I didn't see pointing people to Christ.
Out of 'church' into the fire
It wasn't long after I quit part of my internship that I stopped going to 'church' entirely. 'Church' is that thing we do on Sundays. It's a cultural practice that is the first hallmark we think of when asked, "Do you go to church?" But the church isn't a place, its a people. I kept on with a small group of men and I kept on in the youth group until it stopped for the summer. What was I doing with my Sunday mornings? Working. With a Hindu-based group at my place of work.
Religion versus Truth
The not quite-Hindus are some of the nicest people I've met. They have social ministries, form a tight-nit community, eat a lot of wonderful Indian food and sing and dance and celebrate their culture. They teach about character development, about the inner voice that guides us, about lessons we can learn from nature. They are a well organized and happy people. In the 6 months I immersed myself in their culture, there is one thing I didn't feel: the power of the Holy Spirit. I also never heard about the power of sacrificial love. These two things are what separates Christianity from everything else. If a church only preaches character development, about inner guiding voices, lessons from nature and sings, dances and celebrates their culture with amazing food it is not Christian. What I learned is that are groups of people who are much better at practicing the social aspects of the gospel than some churches, but social ministry alone is not the call of the gospel. It's to enter into a relationship with God through His sacrificial love and be transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Coming home
I remember my first Sunday back in 'church'. The service felt very foreign. I suddenly knew why people didn't understand our 'church' services. They are odd. And the church I attended in North Texas wasn't even liturgical! I found aspects of those ministering during the service odd: AKA the tech teams. I understand how using technology can 'enhance' a service, but I had a hard time calling sitting behind a camera service to God, even when I was doing it for my friends who I knew would be watching it later. I wanted something more. So I quit the tech team (even though I've had a relationship with tech teams since my early teens). I couldn't spend my time doing something I wasn't convicted would be the best use of my time to bring people closer to God.
Convicted
I'll never forget the 'expectations' I heard about what it means to be Christian: 1 hour in a 'sunday' service, 1 hour in a small group, 1 hour of service. IF all I got to do was spend 1 hour on Sunday than fine. IF all I got was 1 hour with a small group of people seeking God than fine. But IF I only had 1 hour to serve my community it wasn't going to be as a parking lot attendant or camera man. I understand this formulaic package is a starting point. I get it's designed for people who are very busy, have limited time and are trying out this thing called Christianity. However, I utterly reject this notion. It's cheap. Christianity is about selling out your ENTIRE life. Not just 3 hours of a week, but every hour in every day to the glory of God. This means I can glorify God while sleeping, eating, working, practicing my fitness, reading, washing dishes, sending an email, answering my phone, talking with others, playing sports, coaching sports, writing blogs, cooking meals, texting, etc. All day, every day, I never stop practicing my faith. It touches every aspect of my life. It should be in every word, not just the good words, but the bad ones too.
I know this all-day-all-of-the-time-life is the kind of life the man who told me this formula wants his people to live. I know this because he lives this way. If people could smell bad because of their closeness to God, he reeks. He's not the smelliest minister I have ever met, but he has a very strong stench all his own. And he encourages his staff to smell as bad or worse than he does. He is a model for the church, even though I believe some of the particulars are off. Because even though I don't agree with everything he says, I believe in the direction he's trying to point people and the way he wants them to go. He wants them to find Jesus, even though his eyes aren't on fire all the time.
And when the time came for me to leave North Dallas and move southwest I was sad to go. I missed the church I met at the 'church'. Even though I'm not too far away I still don't get to see them often enough. I don't get to hear enough of the power works they are doing in their community. I don't get to hear enough of the lives that are being changed through the ordinary people empowered by God. I don't get to talk with my tech team friends and appreciate the work they do, especially because it's work I don't want to do. And I don't get enough time to say thank you to a group of people who helped and challenged me on my path of healing and growth.
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