Emerging Breech

What is a “Funk and Wagnall’s”?

2011-09-20T00:29:00.003-05:00

A couple of my friends (family) have brought up the Orthodox and Roman traditions of following the “church calendar.” This something I truly admire. Unlike many Protestants, it is something of which I am starkly aware. If you have no idea what I am talking about you can research it here. Not just everyone in a local congregation follows it. The whole church, all over the world, follows it. It’s brilliant, really.

However, as much as I like this part, it is a practice that doesn’t go far enough for me and for two reasons. From what I have learned, this is a new generation that is unlike any before it. And they are filled with contradictions. First, they are a fatherless generation, so they are very leery of patriarchal systems. But secondly, in what seems to be a contradiction, they so badly need to be heard. Perhaps it is a direct consequence of such a paternal deficiency that they need to be heard.

Let’s unpack this seeming contradiction. First of all, they are known as a “fatherless” generation. This is arguably the distinguishing characteristic of the kids who are growing up in today’s world. Now stack that on top of the fact that they have more information and input at their fingertips than any previous peoples. Social networks, search engines, and even their favorite bloggers have more impact on their lives and their beliefs than strangers who claim to be “experts” ever will.

They display their lives online—at least the part they want you to see. They count on Wikipedia but have no idea what a Funk & Wagnall’s is, or was. The vast majority of them (90%+) have uploaded data, videos, and/or photos onto the internet. This generation was “born” online. That is why those born since 1990 are referred to as the iY Generation.

Dr. Tim Elmore wrote the book Generation iY: Our Last Chance to Save Their Future. In his promotional video for the book he says, “When I look at students today and schools (read churches) today, I see a gap. Students today are primarily right brain thinkers; schools (churches) are primarily left brain delivery. Students want to upload their own thoughts; schools (churches) insist on downloading information. And this chasm has led to a disconnect between adults and this emerging generation of kids.”

With so much peer influence, available data, plus paternal rejection, why would they seek out a pastor, a priest, or even a heavenly Father for exclusive input on matters of faith?

If you really want to do some research on this you could read this or this. If you don’t want to understand Generation iY, then you have the answer as to why we are having problems reaching them—indifference and a lack of understanding by the older generations. If you want to go even deeper you should read Elmore’s book.

But secondly, besides being dubious of single source authority, this generation, like no other before it, needs to be heard. Elsewhere on this blog, I have quoted author and former director of Alpha USA Todd Hunter. He says, “It used to be that people primarily listened their way into Christian faith. That made the Christian role talking: defending the faith, explaining the faith, doing apologetics, preaching, writing tracts, etc. While that reality is not entirely gone, these days outsiders are increasingly talking and observing their way into faith. They need to tell their story and see if Christianity is real. This major shift is difficult, because right when seekers are looking instead of listening, the church is at a high mark of un-Christian living. Transformation into Christlikeness has always been the goal of Christianity. Now it is utterly strategic—the future of the faith in the USA, humanly speaking, depends upon it.”

This makes our job listening and living it—two things we don’t do very well. What can the church do? Well, can we rethink our delivery? If not, we may need to prepare ourselves to lose an entire generation. How about simply changing our approach from, “Here’s the truth and you had better believe it and act this way!” to, “Here’s what Jesus said! Here’s my experience. Now, how do you think we’re supposed to live that out?” And then we shut up and listen to them. Not just one Sunday or one Wednesday, but every time we come together. Then that “format” becomes our liturgy.

That’s what happens every time we meet at Agora. Maybe you have a better suggestion. I’m wide open. Our community has evolved and hopefully is still evolving. I say all the time that we don’t think we have it nailed. In fact, I think the idea that we think we need to have “it” nailed is a major deficiency in the universal church today. (“It” meaning message and method.)

Here’s the thing. Could we possibly have enough trust in God and faith in our kids that they could hear from the Holy Spirit for themselves, beginning at a fairly young age? And that between them and us, we could work things out? That sounds like community to me. In our experience, it feels like a community too—wrestling with the questions, the words, the works, the faith, the doubts, the struggles, and the successes.

Finally, we must find a way to allow the kids to play a major role in the conversation. Not just around the Sunday lunch table, but where it matters most—around the Lord’s Table.

Sunday Lunch

2011-08-30T23:33:00.003-05:00

As to some new ideas to stop the bleeding, first of all I would like to recommend family devotions. From the earliest times in the lives of your children, awaken your whole family around 4:30 am, and put together an hour long presentation of scripture, sharing, prayer requests, and prayer. Everyone should share, and sleeping is absolutely forbidden…

Okay, not really.

Look, I don’t want to diss anyone. Seriously, if family devotions were a part of your upbringing and it was meaningful and life-altering, I honor you and especially your parents for what they were able to do. Unfortunately, as well-intentioned as they might be, it is not the experience of most people, including parents and their children that devotions accomplished what was intended. More often than not they were forced, dreaded by everyone, too long (no matter how short), ineffective, and generally… uh…hated.

The intentions of family devotions are so good. But is there a way to engage your family in meaningful conversations about your faith and about the things that count? And can we find a way to make that happen naturally and spontaneously?

An idea came to me as I walked through my own home one afternoon. I was picking up papers, crafts, worksheets, coloring pages, loose cotton balls, and some multicolored pipe-cleaners that were all over the house that day. And it occurred to me that this represented just one week in the church life of my daughter. This pile was a collection of work that she had been given beginning with Sunday School on Sunday morning, Children’s Church after that, Sunday night worksheets, Wednesday night choir, and followed by her age-appropriate missions program. Wow!

Talk about drinking from a fire hose! She had at least five different lessons from five different teachers about five different subjects with five different scripture verses to memorize. But then, she would be doing that all over again starting the next Sunday morning. Five more of everything. I started looking through the pile and realized that none of what she had heard that week matched any of the three sermons I had heard in the same time frame.

Then a thought hit me. If the church wanted to help facilitate my being the point man in my daughter’s spiritual formation, why couldn’t they plan it out to where all the pastors were using their creativity to coordinate lesson plans? Wait, hear me out. It would have really helped if my daughter and I were learning the same things, you, know, at our own levels, but the same concepts, maybe even the same scriptures at the same time. That might actually spark some authentic and unforced conversation between us.

Then I thought about Sunday lunch. The Sunday afternoon meal after church has always been a family thing for us. How cool would it be if the conversation around the table at lunch time on Sunday afternoon was to eventually come around to the subject matter of the day? What would it do for our kids if they were to become involved in, included in the deep issues discussed at table on Sunday afternoon? Not compulsory, not strained, but naturally included, encouraged. What if their opinions actually mattered? (I’ll go here next.)

This is something with which we have experimented, and we can see real potential for the future as we grow into having just such a creative planning team. Some object lessons work for all ages. Videos, movie clips, and larger metaphors can bridge or can be made age-appropriate. Whatever tools we have at our disposal. Shouldn’t we be the most creative people on earth?

Just my first idea. What do you think?

Strapping on the Feed Bag

2011-08-28T00:53:00.003-05:00

Some of you who are as frustrated as I am sincerely want to know how we fix this. And some of you who are upset with me want to say, “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, if you think it’s broken—and I’m not saying it is—how are you going to fix it?” To both of you I would say, “I don’t know. Do you have any suggestions?”

With that being said, I do have a couple of ideas that we might try, as well as some kudos for the good things we do.

Let’s start with the kudos. Although I am not a big fan of short term missions trips (I will elaborate on that elsewhere), I do think that any exposure our kids get outside the walls of our churches is a plus. Whether it’s across town or half way around the globe, the experience of seeing the world through the eyes of the homeless man or the third world child is life-changing.

I do think that it is important to try and replicate and repeatedly perform these kinds of activities on a regular basis right here at home. For fledgling faith, mission trips are often like trying to drink from a fire hose. No wonder our kids come back from such outings all fired up! Unfortunately that furor fades quickly when nothing back home commands their attention and demands their hard work like being “on mission.”

Secondly, there is no doubt that our kids, of all ages, are given excellent instruction. If a kid will pay attention, he or she will learn so much about the Bible and about God from the strong teaching that they receive. Knowledge is a very good thing. Unfortunately, unlike knowledge, discipleship is not learned in a classroom or a church sanctuary. Discipleship comes from doing life together. We will save that discussion for later also.

Now, before I enumerate any ideas of my own, let me state that I think it is important that we first consider something. If we believe this, then the church should both teach and equip parents to be the primary source in the spiritual formation of their own children. And, I believe that in addition to teaching youth pastors how to be relevant to kids, our universities and Bible schools should be strategizing as to the methods to end the exsanguination of our young adults. But that must begin when they are young and proceed throughout their school years.

However, for any changes to work it would take a complete paradigm shift from the lead pastor to the parents to the earliest children’s workers. It would have to be taught from the “pulpit” and bought into by Mom and Dad. And first of all, Mom and Dad would have to buy into the idea of taking responsibility for their own discipleship, let alone for the discipleship of their kids. If you have ever heard anyone leave a church saying, “We just aren’t being fed,” then you know why we are in trouble.

I guess it’s weird that I started feeding myself as a toddler. What’s ever weirder is that I started in my teen years to question everything I had ever been taught. I tried to dig it out of the Bible for myself. But for some people, I guess their view of church is strolling in and strapping on the old feed bag.

Next we will examine some new ideas for accomplishing our purposes.

Child Ownership Fail (Nice Car!)

2011-08-24T20:18:00.010-05:00

Once upon a time, a father bought his one and only newborn daughter a shiny new car. Cars were his passion. And since she was his only child, he wanted her to share his zeal for automobiles. He knew that she wouldn’t be driving it for some time, but he wanted her to be exposed to it from the very first week of her life. He was determined to have her to take ownership and drive it when the time came, but in the meantime he would keep it clean and ready for the day she would take it over.

From the time she was able to read, she didn’t go to regular schools; he took her to schools where they taught her all about cars. She took classes on driving, traffic laws, safety, and car maintenance. By the time she was twelve years old, she had memorized the interstate system, nationwide. She could take apart a transmission, replace the worn parts, and put it all back together again. And she could tell you everything there was to know about Henry Ford and the history of auto manufacturing in the United States.

When she turned 16, her school sponsors took her to Japan and South Korea to help her understand the durability and reliability of the well-made cars there. The next year they took her to Germany and all over Europe to meet the engineers and to see the great automobile plants of such legendary cars as Mercedes, BMW, Rolls Royce, Ferrari, Lamborghini, Bugatti, and several others you have never heard of.

In all this time, Dad kept the car clean and ready, but she had never driven it once.

On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, the day finally arrived. She had spent her whole life preparing for this day. She knew everything there was to know about cars. Today, she would get to drive one for the first time. After breakfast, her dad handed her the keys and said, “Now you are ready.”

Perhaps you can anticipate what is about to happen. Before she got out of town, she was killed in a tragic auto accident. She had studied her whole life, but she had never once been given the opportunity to drive. She knew everything about cars, but she had never been behind the wheel.

This is the story of the American church and its children. We have given them knowledge, instruction, and pizza by the ton, but we have not let them get behind the wheel. We have failed our kids by withholding ownership of the gospel. Instead we have kept it clean and shiny for them and just out of reach. Instead of handing them the keys as early as possible and sitting next to them for the wild ride, we have kept the keys in our pocket.

We have tried so hard to keep them in the insulated church bubble and isolated from the real world, because we feared they might fail. We just couldn’t let them doubt or question or find their own answers. That was too dangerous. We can’t bring ourselves to let them go there; not on our watch. And by refusing to let them fail, we have also kept them from taking faith deep into their souls.

And here’s some real irony. If they did fail in spite of our efforts, we did not know what to do with them. We did not know how to show them love, forgiveness, and compassion without making it appear that we condone their actions. God will gladly take them back, but we won’t. Our church culture doesn’t allow it.

So instead of admitting that the failure of the best people in the scriptures as well as in real life is as common as rain, we have to pretend to be appalled and disappointed. And if they are leaders in the group, instead of finding ways to restore them and make them examples of God’s forgiveness and love, we make them examples of shame and humility, and we set them aside to show the other kids where sin will get you.

Thirdly, we have failed our kids by withholding the keys to ownership of the faith entrusted to us. And in so doing we can predict the car wreck that inevitably comes when they finally come face-to-face with the real world.

Church Fail (Nanny State)

2011-08-23T22:42:00.011-05:00

Instead of finding ways to facilitate the vitally important role of spiritual formation in the lives of their children, we (the church) have taken it from the uneasy parents willingly—no, anxiously. Regrettably, the church is more than ready to play nanny, taking undue ownership of their spiritual formation. Even worse, very often the church professionals unintentionally give the impression that parents shouldn’t try this at home. (Like those vapid reality shows that start with the disclaimer: “These stunts are performed by trained professionals; do not try this at home!”)

In other words, we give the impression to parents that they should leave it to the experts.

How did it get this way? (Again, just my observations.) It appears to me that the multi-staffed, mega-church model became a strategy of the church growth movement—which is all about consumerism and competition. The reason the church took the “cradle to grave,” nanny-state position in the first place is because it has become expected. Parents imply, if not state unequivocally, that if we won’t do it, they will take their business (their own children’s welfare) down the road to another church which will be more than happy to do it.

I think “bigger and better” has come at expense of our kids. I think giving parents what they want in order to keep their tithes coming “into the storehouse” is ill-advised and is costing us our children’s faith and future. Maybe I’m wrong.

Want an example?

I know of several churches (personal knowledge, not “I heard about…”) who struggle with or have given up altogether on reaching children and/or youth in their communities because of the growing number of parents who have complained about the unruly, unholy, and undisciplined masses of kids “who don’t know the first thing about how to act in church” (actual parent words).

Parents aren’t just relinquishing their kids’ discipleship; they also want to make sure that their priceless progeny remain inside the safe church bubble. And those “heathens” threaten to burst it. Instead of allowing someone to train the “church kids” how to befriend, disciple, and lead the “un-churched kids,” parents want to make sure “their kids don’t get lost in the shuffle” (yep—actual parent words).

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a mess. I know what it looks like, what it feels like. It feels out of control. It feels like the inmates have taken over the asylum. It’s like… like… “Jesus, send these people home so they can eat. They’re starting to look at us like we’re supper or something.” (Mark 6:30-44)

But Jesus said, “Feed them.”

For the disciples this was a perfect opportunity to learn how to serve these unruly Jesus groupies. And Jesus wasn’t about to let the chance slip away. In fact, it was one of the first opportunities they had to take ownership of passing on what Jesus had been living out in front of them. But the disciples were worn out on the whole multitudes thing. They were ready to send them packing so they could get a little more personal face time with Jesus.

Same thing with the church kids, their parents, and those pesky “outsiders.” They look a little rough. They don’t know how to dress. They’re loud. And the things they say and the words they use! We are so afraid that our babies might actually hear things in church that they hear every day at school. We don’t talk that way. Not here. Not in “God’s House.” (Don’t get me started.)

This kind of prejudice against outsiders is not new to the church, not by a long shot. My dad used to joke about the old “clothesline preachers” saying, “We don’t drink or smoke or chew or run around with girls who do.” Maybe we don’t. But Jesus did. (Didn’t you know that Mary Magdalene and several of the people at one of the parties Jesus attended had a smokeless tobacco addiction?)

While I’m here, I might as well just “shell down the corn and tell the God’s open truth.” If you aren’t mad already, you will be. Some parents of these sheltered church kids, specifically the parents of white daughters, became afraid that one of their young ladies might fall for a young man of color. Heaven forbid. As a man who has three (white) daughters and a best friend who is “chocolate” (his word), this kind of prejudice anywhere, but especially in the church, really ticks me off.

So secondly, the church has failed our kids in reference to our taking ownership of their spiritual formation by cheerfully replacing the parents in their most critical role. And we have done it as a part of our “church growth” strategy.

Next we observe what a failure of ownership means with regard to the kids themselves.

Parental Fail

2011-08-23T01:04:00.002-05:00

I think everyone will agree philosophically that parents are primarily responsible for the spiritual formation in the lives of their own children. I don’t know many people inside the church who would argue with that. But if you ask the parents what they are doing in that regard, most would hem and haw and conclude with, “I insist on them going to church.” Instead of owning that responsibility, parents have abdicated their duty and willingly handed it over to the church. How do I know that?

What’s the first question a “church shopper” will ask? After they decide that the music is tolerable and the preacher doesn’t stink. The most common question is, “What do you have for my children?” Unfortunately, often what they mean is, “Will you disciple my children for me so I don’t have to?” I realize that is a strong accusation and a really broad and unfair generalization. However, if the truth were known, it would not be to far a field.

Why is that so important?

As parents we feel… inadequate, out of touch, sometimes even fearful. We don’t know how to do it ourselves. And the church’s position strongly reinforces that fear (but that’s for the next entry). So, rather than risk saying or doing the wrong thing we take them to the experts. We’re counting on the professionals to guarantee our kids’ success in following Jesus. Thus, our fear and a lack of adequate skills oblige us to hand them over to a program that seems better equipped to wow them, win them, and keep them.

Unfortunately, this is not what they need. First, as harsh as it sounds, we have failed our children as parents by not owning our responsibility to be the primary purveyor of their spiritual formation. But what about the church?

Epic Fail

2011-08-22T13:43:00.004-05:00

If you ask me, there are explanations for the predicament in which we find ourselves. Given the circumstances, it seems impossible to escape the conclusion that we have failed our kids. Not because we didn’t do enough, but because we did the wrong thing.

How would you describe the last 25 years of youth and kids’ ministry? I’d call it massive. We did bigger and better everything: bigger and better facilities, better and more educated workers, the latest video games, brighter light shows, bigger screens, and higher definitions. So much so that I used to think our kids were so exceedingly entertained and so accustomed to extraordinary, age-appropriate instruction as well as a multitude of fluff that they would never be able to assimilate into “big church.” But I don’t believe that any more. Everybody grows up.

No, if age-appropriate ministry was to blame, the churches would be empty. We have professional specialists for every age group and department: Preschool, Elementary, Junior High, High School, College, Young Adult, Boomers, Seniors, Geriatric, Pastoral Care, Music Ministers for each of those, as well as Ministers of Recreation, Wedding Coordinators, Reception and Funeral Dinner Planners. And you have already thought of some title I have left out.

As my friend Dave Zinck once said about the broad specialties of the church today, “From diapers to Depends, we’ve got you covered!” (sic) (Wouldn’t that make a great church mission statement! *Please, don’t!*)

These days even the main Sunday worship service comes in small, medium, large, traditional, contemporary, and high church one after the other in the same location with the same pastors. I’m fine with that. And, more importantly, I think God is cool with all our varied expressions.

Seriously, I’m certain that God is good with “Cowboy Church” and “Biker Church” and “Goth” or “Punk” or “Rave” churches, or any other kind of church expression that relates one’s real life to the real-life God. Aren’t you? Some of you aren’t sure. But it’s not our forms and structures that have let down our children.

Where we have failed the kids is in the realm of ownership—parental, church, and child.

Fork in the Road

2011-08-20T23:27:00.005-05:00

This question of clarification regarding our inability to reach anyone over the age of 14, may not be as earth-shattering for some of you as it was to me. But then, I have a lot of years invested in the whole go-for-the-kids routine. And during all those years I never questioned it. In fact, I jumped headlong into it. It seemed to me that it was working.

Until I ran into another statistic.

Some of you are acquainted with this stat also. You may have discussed it in your staff meetings or over Sunday lunch. Or maybe you have never heard anyone say it, but you have observed it and pondered in the corners of your mind. Churches and denominations of all descriptions have had crisis team meetings at the highest levels about it. And, considering “The (85/14) Great Statistic” of the last 50 years, it is devastating. Here it is.

More than half of the kids who were raised in church will walk away from the church within ten years of their high school graduation.

I have heard and read figures that as low as 58% and as high as 80% of the young adults who were “churched” as youth and children will walk away in that ten year time frame. And Barna researcher David Kinnaman says that only 20% of those twenty-somethings will maintain a spiritual activity that is consistent with their high school involvement.

What is the church’s answer to that? The answer so far has been similar to their response she had toward kids over the last 50 years. Let’s hire a professional. If they could afford it, churches decided the answer to that problem was to beef up college and young adult ministries by hiring specialists who would concentrate on that demographic. But it hasn’t changed. The bleeding continues.

Now, I don’t want to sound insensitive, and as I said before I am not a researcher—just an observer. But what I have seen makes me suspicious. Too often the church’s “bigger is better” mentality has put her at odds with real ministry. What I mean by “at odds” is the mindset that a professional will do a better job than existing parents or leaders from within. Plus, with bigger churches we have more money to throw at it. Let’s face it; money is less painful than our personal involvement. (Check out my friend’s book that addresses some of this.)

So, let’s summarize. First, there is little doubt that at some point in the middle of the last century, the church came to a fork in the road. On the one hand, I can see now the wisdom of asking ourselves, “What would it take to reach more adults?” Hindsight is crystal. But instead, we opted for the kid plan. And, deciding which road to take was perhaps as simple as going with what must have seemed like the right road at the time. But I can’t help wondering if, when we saw two paths diverging into the woods of eternity, we decided to take the easier route.

Secondly, we now stand in the road at another fork. But this predicament seems to be a more serious decision than the choice of two equally valid options. This one actually feels more like we are standing out on a ledge. And the wrong step could be catastrophic. If she blows it this time, I fear the American church could be plunging into a swirling vortex of obscurity.

One More Question

2011-08-19T02:04:00.004-05:00

In the last fifty years, the evangelical church has made several changes that, on the surface, may appear to have been for the better. For example, when I was in high school, the church I was attending made the decision to hire its first-ever full time youth pastor. We had a bunch of youth who were committed to God and literally meeting on our own. That couldn’t be good. The pastor and the board thought we needed oversight. Maybe we did.

I naively thought hiring a youth pastor was about the growing need in our congregation for adult leadership over a burgeoning group of devoted kids. However, now I know it is possible that we were just following the national trends. Turns out, maybe our church folded in accordance with parental pressure or perhaps in response to the competition of other churches like ours. Whatever the real reason, we got a youth pastor.

Quick on the heels of youth ministry came the specialty of children’s ministry. At Christian Universities you can get a degree in it nowadays. But the Children’s Church, Sunday School classes, and Vacation Bible Schools of my childhood were not run by professionals. There were women whose love and passions were teaching kids about Jesus.

When I think of my childhood, I can’t help but remember that group of ladies who devoted themselves to the children of our church. Their names and pictures belong beside the greatest of saints. They all seemed ancient to me then, but some are still alive today. Emma Thompson, Cecil Lawson, Cora Bickel, Juanita Emery, and a young one named Flora Mae Clawson. Those names don’t mean anything to you. But they mean the world to me.

What was it that caused even the smallest of churches to turn their attentions to the adolescents? I’m no historian or expert researcher, but I was there. I heard the conversations. All of this seemed to come from conclusions we had drawn from a famous statistic that was oft quoted to support the decisions we were making. Have you heard this?

85% of all people who come to Christ do so before the age of 18.

This seems to have been the over-arching stat of the last 50 years. So we concluded from our sacred research that we should do everything in our power to make sure that everyone under the age of 18 had the opportunity to come to Christ. Consequently we beefed up our church staffs (or is it staves?) to match the church down the street. And to Sunday School and Vacation Bible School and Children’s Church and Youth Services we added Youth for Christ and Young Life. And we held Fifth Quarter Fellowships and outdoor concerts and anything else we could think of to give every kid we could reach to an opportunity to come to Christ.

Nothing wrong with that, right? Right?

And the results of our actions continued to feed into our selected data of the Great Statistic which became our answer to the Great Commission. Except, well first of all I never knew where this statistic came from. Who did this research? Or was it merely anecdotal? Well, as it turns out, I don’t know if there ever was real research done 50 years ago that showed this to be true or not.

However, our efforts in the last 50 years or so have certainly made it a reality if it wasn’t before now. In fact, according to the latest research, the real number is that 85% of all people who come to Christ do so before the age of 14. So we have designed the majority of our church programs and started para-church ministries so that our years of expensive and painstaking efforts have become self-fulfilling prophecies.

Then secondly, what if we climbed the ladder too quickly? Isn’t there something more that our singular basket of hatched eggs begs? Up goes my hand.

“Excuse me; I have one more question.”

“Yes.”

“Why do we suck at reaching people over the age of 18?”

Ask More Questions

2011-08-19T00:26:00.003-05:00

So, while it is important to withhold our conclusions before we have enough information, there is something we can do. But it may be too simple to be significant.

When I was in school, I was famous for being the guy who was unafraid to ask questions—especially in math classes. If I didn’t understand something, I always wanted clarification. I don’t know this for sure, but I would have bet that if I had questions other kids in the class did too. So I always stuck my hand up before we moved on too quickly.

Sometimes the answer to that question made me ask even more questions. But once it sunk into my thick skull and I finally understood it, my wife of 35 years, who was in class with me from the eighth grade on through high school, use to tell me that I would always close my little inquiry by saying, “O, I see.” (I think the implication was—now that I have grown old and have had time to think about it—that this repeated phrase became rather obnoxious: “O, I see!”)

Consequently, I bring that part of my life to this problem—both the inquisitive part and the obnoxious part. I guess I always liked to understand, whatever it was. So, I’m no different today than I was then. When it comes to the church, if I see that something is not working, I still want to stick up my hand and say, “Excuse me; I have a question.”

Perhaps this is the beginning of acquiring the help we need. I know that there will be many steps in this journey that we are beginning together, so we need to have not only a starting place but also a place to which we can return in case we stray a little off the path. But not like the inference ladder feedback loop where we return only to our selected data that reinforces what we already think we know. Instead, I think we have to wipe the slate clean and start over in the seemingly bottomless pool of available data.

But how do we do that? We have already conceded that there is far too much information. We’re swimming in data. So, being the rather simple-minded man that I am, I have tried to boil it all down to something really easy that maybe we can apply to whatever situation in which we find ourselves. It is simple, and it’s not really that profound either. Sorry.

Here it is: Ask more questions. Good questions. Obvious, right?

Maybe not. What I think I have found is that, as the church, we are often too quick to draw conclusions and then make decisions about how to proceed without subjecting our conclusions to just a little bit more scrutiny. Even worse than that. We are not likely to question anything that has become an established practice over a period of decades. Why? (There I go again.) It seems to me that it would be beneficial if we would ask at least one more question. For example…

Argyris’ Ladder of Inference

2011-08-17T22:10:00.002-05:00

Picture a ladder. Each rung of the ladder represents a step toward inference. We begin on the bottom rung with reality and facts or data. Are you as acutely aware as I am that we have more information at our fingertips than we can ever use? Therefore, we must take the next step on the ladder by selecting which available data we will use. Step two is selected data/reality.

The next step we take is to affix meaning to the limited data we have selected. In other words, we interpret the data. Then we make assumptions about the data. From our assumptions we draw conclusions about what we assume. Then our conclusions lead to beliefs, and our beliefs lead to actions. Of course, if on any step along the ladder we are incorrect, we will be led astray.

This model of how people process information is an invaluable help to relationships, leadership, and decision making across the board. In addition to these initial seven steps, it is also obvious that it is self-reinforcing. For example, our beliefs will naturally influence the data we select. Now we are in a feedback loop that reinforces itself regardless of the truth.

Have you ever been in a meeting where everyone was intrigued with the speaker except for one person? Regardless of the attentiveness of everyone else, all you can see is the restlessness of the one. You have already selected data from all of the available information. Then you affix the meaning that this person is not interested in what is being said. Therefore you conclude that she disagrees with the speaker. Now your belief about her leads to actions that may cause you to either confront her about it or to tell others what you know.

But what if she was distracted by something that had just happened? What if she received a text when you weren’t watching and was merely staying put out of respect? How does that change the reality? This is a poor oversimplification, but isn’t it obvious that we do this sort of inferring every day? And isn’t it dangerous to walk up this ladder too quickly or with limited information?

What Are the Questions?

2011-08-17T22:02:00.002-05:00

If you are bothering to read this, then you know the kinds of things writers and speakers come up with, including those who think nothing should change. Some argue for a collective model of relational community where justice reigns and we all live like the book of Acts describes with “having all things in common.” Some suggest a postmodern, emergent model that will make room for the angst of the generations of young people and adults alike who have no room for absolute truth. Others suggest the house church model where we find accountability and acceptance in a double handful of close-knit relationships.

Still others advocate a multi-site, multi-plex, mega marvel with thousands in attendance in locations all over town, or even all over the globe. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that any of those are not valid expressions of the church. What I am so afraid of is that whatever our solution is today, we will have a single choice of one of only two options: We will either institutionalize our current solutions into just another tradition among so many, or we will find our solutions temporary at best.

With something as universal and as all-embracing as the gospel, do we need to have it nailed? And if we do nail it down, won’t it fall off within ten years anyway? In a culture where the latest technologies and advancements are passé within a few years or even a few months, do we need to have it carved into stone tablets? Or do we need it written on our hearts which are pliable and open?

What I have observed in our community is that not all answers apply to all people. What I have observed often in the larger church world is that we are answering questions no one is asking any more. So, not only do the answers change, but maybe the questions change on a regular basis too. If that is the case, then what if we’re asking the wrong questions?

Now I have a friend who wonders if “wrong questions” even exist. He asks, “Aren’t all questions good questions?” In my experience, no. As mentioned before questions that no one else are asking may be useless. Also, it depends on when and where you stop asking and start answering. What if your assumptions with which you begin are skewed? Won’t that lead us to ask wrong questions?

For help here, it would be wise to look at the Ladder of Inference developed by author and Harvard Business School Professor Emeritus Chris Argyris. You can watch a short video of the concept here. Or you can read about it extensively here or here.

I will try to summarize it. But do some research for yourself. It will be important that you understand this concept as we journey together.

Whose Agenda?

2011-08-17T21:47:00.002-05:00

In my studies, particularly my reading over the last decade, I have heard the voices from within and from without the church. Much of the study I did had to do specifically with the church, especially what might have gone wrong along the way. But some of it had to do with other things like creativity, education, worldviews, culture, art, beauty, and relationships. Missiology too. But no matter what I read, it was always with the church in mind and what we, as followers of Jesus, needed to rethink. Turns out, it might be just about everything regarding method if not dogma.

Unfortunately, even among some of the most fascinating of writers, I have run into a common thread. They all, apparently, have the answer(s). Especially with regard to this conundrum of church, their research led them in a certain direction and ultimately they had come to one conclusion or another about the answer as to how we ought to “do church.” Of course none of them agree.

In the beginning I would read along with great interest and hope. These are mostly people whose journeys have been similar to my own. I would relate to their frustrations and their questions. I would respond with thoughts like, “Yeah! Me too!” Or, “Wow, that is exactly what I have always thought!” However, sooner or later there would come a point at which I would end up saying, “What? No, really? That’s your result?” That’s because obviously each writer feels the need to provide his readers with the right solution to the mystery.

I think my college literature professor may have told us that. Something like, “Good writing presents us with a problem and then proceeds to solve it.” Or maybe it was, “Tell them what you are going to tell them; then tell them; then tell them what you told them.” Apparently publishers are also pretty picky about this sort of thing. Because, I have yet to read one that didn’t spell out some specific pattern or model to follow in order to solve the problem.

If God is speaking to each of them, he is saying something different about what the church ought to do in each of their circumstances. Which kind of makes my point. Their particular conclusions are presented as the answer—the one and only answer to every situation. Maybe that’s not the way they mean it, but that’s the way it sounds. I don’t think there is only one answer to the question of what the church should be doing in any given city or community. I think the questions and concerns are similar across the board, but I think the right conclusions and solutions for the church are as varied as her people.

My purpose here will be to try and ask the right questions, give you our attempts at solving them, and leaving the rest up to you.

Church-Basher?

2011-08-17T21:23:00.002-05:00

Over the last 10 years I have done a lot of self-study on the church. I have also done some deep soul-searching. As I mentioned, some of my writings have already prompted some to accuse me of being a “church basher.” Like I have some kind of beef. But nothing could be further from my heart.

I love the church. I am a product of the church. I don’t think I was conceived there (sorry, Mom), but for my whole life it was as though I was born under a pew. And, for more than 30 years I have worked in the church. The deal is not my disdain for her but my love. Therefore, my journey has taken me on a path of reflection and concern for the results of our collective efforts. But apparently if that reflection causes other people to squirm, it would be better to just keep quiet.

Obviously, that is not an option for me. Not any more. Something is dreadfully wrong. And I can’t help myself. I have to try to understand why—why it’s not working. Why is the church growing everywhere else but dying in America? Why is there such a deep and growing divide between church culture and popular culture? Why are we so reticent to recognize our decline?

These questions and many more have kept me from sleeping well over the last 10 years. And at the risk of alienating some of my dear friends within the church, I can no longer alienate my friends without.

It’s About Time

2011-08-17T21:15:00.002-05:00

I have taken a two year hiatus from writing. Two years ago this month, we took over the coffee shop that is on the front side of our location in the Fontana Shopping Center in Tulsa. That has been a long journey of really hard work. But it is time that I get back to the job of writing about that to which God has called us. So the following writings pick up where we left off. We were just getting ready to talk about what we have learned over the last six years or more.

In the interim, I have had the opportunity to think about how to approach our story. It seems to me that if I write it one way—with a sensitivity toward existing structures—I might get a hearing with people who are still steeped in the “church as usual” mindset. Then again, my writing so far has apparently already caused some people hurt feelings, especially those who take what I say very personally.

The other option is that I just put it out there, tell it like I see it. And while my intent is not to be obtuse or controversial, I may be too far down the road anyway to go back and remember what it felt like to hear from people like me a few short years ago.

In the last six years I have learned that too often people in the church will say and do things out of a fear of criticism from within. The way we talk, the decisions we make about relationships, and what we choose to allow others to know about us are controlled more by a fear of fellow Christians than by personal conviction. I don’t want to be guilty of that.

So as a result, I have concluded that I need to simply lay it out. Let the chips fall where they may. It is likely that anyone who reads what I write with an open mind will have already started down a path that will make them receptive to it. Anyone who cares about what I have to say will have already concluded for themselves that all is not well.

With that in mind, you have been warned.

“Send” the Indigenous, Part 3

2009-07-31T01:09:00.006-05:00

So, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. The only reason I have used the word “send” is because it is such an important word in “Christianese” that most of us understand with regard to missions or with fulfilling the Great Commission.

*Warning! Rabbit trail!*: Along with the word “go.” We understand what is meant by “go” as well as “send.” However, both words are loaded—like so many words used in the subculture of Christianity in America.

Let’s think of some other examples: “Evangelical.” Do people who are in the church have any idea what a nasty word this is to the people on the outside? “Missionary.” Here’s a word that people outside our subculture think of as an invasion force. To them, missionaries destroy the culture and the traditions of entire civilizations, turning the people into Americanized Christian clones. (That’s not a good thing to them, by the way.) Every day the Prime Directive is being violated by well-meaning Christians. *And the rabbit trail ends abruptly before it gets out of hand…*

Okay, back to the theme. The word that is better—the one that I believe we are called to do for the “Next Generation” (another Star Trek reference)—is “empower.”

Empower the indigenous.

Some of you are asking, “Where do Bible school and Seminary fit into the mix?” And I would respond, “Where do we ‘send’ the indigenous to learn the ‘God stuff’ without overwhelming them with the ‘man stuff’?” When you find that place, you let me know, will you?

In the meantime I think we have to mentor while being “reverse mentored.” Treating them and accepting them as equals, we need to come along side the next leaders and allow them to develop their own expressions with very broad, spandex-like boundaries.

If we can control ourselves and give the Holy Spirit room to do his work, I believe that the Church of the future will naturally, organically become more like the New Testament church than it has been since the first century.

“Send” the Indigenous, Part 2

2009-06-16T00:03:00.005-05:00

As Westerners, we are at a disadvantage when it comes to scripture. We start at a place that is far away from the Eastern minds of both the writers and the recipients. The differences in culture and cognitive style are considerable. At best, Westerners are Joe Friday (“Just the facts, ma’am…”), and Easterners are Mr. Miyagi (“First learn stand, then learn fly.”). We (Westerners) analyze the life out of the stories, the parables, and the object lessons that were a part of Jesus’ stock-in-trade. So much so that the real meaning is often lost. Take the invitation he spoke to some to follow him as an example.

To some fishermen, he said, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” Wow! Have we gotten a lot of mileage out of that one! We have created songs and an entire evangelism strategy out of it.

But the truth is that Jesus never intended this to be a lesson of any kind. It was a play on words. It was clever. And it was aimed specifically at the fishermen he was recruiting. That’s all. But we (in our Western minds) have taken that one line and turned it into a personal calling and an evangelism plan of attack. And we have a whole linguistic subculture that revolves around it.

We use fishing words like “bait”, “hook”, “catch”, and “capture.” We talk about “reeling them in” or “wearing them down.” Worst of all, we even refer to the “one that got away.” (Is it merely coincidental that evangelists and fishermen are both thought of as people who stretch the truth?)

And how do you think the victims of such an approach feel? They are the ones with baited hooks in their mouths. Do you think they aren’t savvy enough to figure that out? Believe me, people are plenty savvy today. They can spot someone with an agenda a mile away. If you haven’t tried, you should ask someone who has been there.

Now, although Jesus spoke the words that have given us our most prevalent evangelism strategy, it is our left-brained, systematic, Western mind set that has failed us in our understanding of what he really intended. To do that we need to look at the example he set forth instead of that one line. And what was his example?

Incarnation.

He became one of us. Therefore, if he had been trying to catch fish he wouldn’t have bought a rod and reel. He would have become a fish. But over and above all of that, Jesus’ whole approach to people wasn’t at all like the way Christians approach non-Christians. Jesus approached people like a friend would, not like someone who was looking to get a notch on his gun belt. So it matters how we “send.”

“Send” the Indigenous, Part 1

2009-06-07T20:56:00.005-05:00

The church in which I grew up has become one of the largest missionary sending organizations the world has ever known. It was conceived and birthed in the heat of passion for going and sending based on the aforementioned Great Commission. But if there is one thing we have learned, it is that why and how one is sent is as critical as being sent in the first place.

What we have learned is that sometimes the worst thing that can happen to a country, a culture, or a people group is the invasion of what I’ll call fanatical Christian salvation guerillas. Because, the one and only message they have is salvation. So they storm the country with medical teams, food supplies, or relief efforts, in an attempt to gain an attentive ear for their message by providing for needs. Now, providing for needs isn’t a bad thing. That is very much a Kingdom value taught by Jesus. But not when the real purpose is bait and switch.

When physical needs are met for the sole purpose of creating a captive audience for a quick presentation of the Gospel, that is bait and switch. And, it doesn’t just happen in foreign countries either. It also happens in churches every week right here in the good old US of A.

Youth are baited with pizza, extreme games, celebrity guests, and fancy hangouts. Adults are baited with promises of wealth, beauty, and success, not to mention a break from their children for at least an hour. Add on top of that promises of discipleship training for every age group (as though that was supposed to be the job of the church and not the disciple).

Worse than that, the needy in our cities are promised food in exchange for a church service which they have to attend. “Free clothing” comes with a secret price tag—the cost of which is measured in enduring bad music and a reductionist salvation message. In either situation—the fancy church or the skid row mission—the problem is the same. Here it is: What you win them with, you win them to—whether it’s pizza, prosperity, or free clothes.

Now, I know that many churches and Christian organizations do wonderful things for people with no strings attached. Those groups have my compliments. But there are just as many, if not more, who use this as a “strategy.”

Last Sunday afternoon, I went to a downtown park where some friends of mine were doing a cook out for our homeless friends. There were at least 60 of us in the park that day. And although this was a first (the cookout), it was not the first time these men, women, and children had fed, loved on, and talked to many of these people. They called each other by name, and were so genuinely glad to see one another. And the food and the hugs and the football and the croquet were all paid for and given away unconditionally.

Unfortunately, some there that day who didn’t know my friends were waiting for the other shoe to drop. So when two guys got out their guitars to play some jazz and folk music, one man was overheard to say, “Uh-oh! They’re gettin’ out the guitars. Here comes the Jesus message…”

Bait and switch.

Now my friends and I had no intentions of doing anything more than feeding, hugging, and spending some time with them. But they were so conditioned to the schemes and methods they had seen so many times before that they were certain we were getting ready to “lay some Jesus on them.”

Some of my other friends who are missionaries in Asia have a name for people who convert in one of these bait and switch situations. They call them “rice Christians.” Rice Christians (whether in Asia or South Tulsa) aren’t won to Jesus, they are won to: fill-in-the-bait.

Now, so far you’re wondering how this applies to our subject of “Sending the Indigenous.” I guess what I’m wondering in my head and wandering through with the above is if we are ready to entrust the Holy Spirit with the next step. If we can trust Him to draw or to persuade the indigenous to follow him without our coercion or manipulation, are we ready to allow Him to help them to contextualize the truths of scripture for their own culture without our messing it up for them?

Before we can talk about sending the indigenous to reach their own, we have to answer the question: Are we ready to let them build their own versions of ecclesiology (church) and maybe even soteriology (salvation) that may or may not resemble our versions?

Let the Spirit Do the Persuading

2009-06-06T10:28:00.007-05:00

I mentioned in an earlier chapter that I had worked for a church in Atlanta, Georgia during the late 80’s. One Christmas Eve we decided that we should do a candlelight, carol, and communion service. However, none of us had ever done a candle lighting service before. So, unfortunately we didn’t know the rules. But, how hard can it be, right?

We bought those special little candles that come with the cardboard drip protectors. But the pastor thought the staff ought to have “bigger candles” (if you know what I mean) than everyone else, because we were the ones who were going to be lighting everyone else’s candles. It was a symbolic expression of our superiority over the laity or something, I don’t know. Anyway, this was the plan.

I don’t remember if we had drip protectors or not, but it wouldn’t have mattered. We didn’t do it right. We flitted around lighting the congregation’s candles from our big ones, and since it was dark, we had no idea the pain we were inflicting or the mess we were making. But after Christmas our mistakes saw the light of day, and we were in trouble.

I don’t remember if it was a weekly staff meeting or a special meeting or if the word was just spread around among us but, however we got the word, the word was: Never again. I guess people got burned by our wax and we got it on people’s clothes. But the worst thing was we got wax all over the carpet. Do you realize how hard it is to get wax out of carpet? Not good. Turns out we broke all the rules.

See, here’s the way it’s supposed to work. Once a single candle gets lit, that candle must remain upright. Then another unlit candle leans in to be lit from its flame. One by one, in all directions, the unlit candles lean in to be lit by the upright ones. That way the wax stays on the protector, no one gets burned, and no wax gets dropped on the carpet or other people.

This is the best metaphor I have ever found to describe the kind of evangelism required for the 21st century.

Jesus said that we are the light of the world. Once lit, it is imperative that we remain as “upright”—in every sense of that word—as possible. Then, those who wish to join us can lean in to our light. But that is the work of God’s Holy Spirit. So many people have been “burned” by well-meaning people bent on fulfilling the Great Commission by any means possible. But, the scriptures indicate that it is the Spirit who draws people to him. And there are no “altar calls” recorded in the New Testament. In fact, the scriptural pattern is this: those who desire to follow Christ will ask us how to do so without coercion or confrontation from us.

After Peter’s speech on the day of Pentecost, when many say the church began, the scriptures say the people were “cut to the heart.” (Acts 2:14 – 37) Then they responded with these words, “Brothers, what must we do?” Then, when Paul and Silas were freed from jail by a miraculous earthquake, the jailer fell on his knees and asked them, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” (Acts 16:6 – 24)

They will ask.

No need for confrontation, manipulation, or even an altar call. It seems that those things may make “converts” you can record on your annual reports, but they don’t make disciples. And only disciples—indigenous disciples—can suitably reach the indigenous.

Contextualize the Message, Part 3

2009-06-04T18:16:00.007-05:00

At this point in the conversation, perhaps you are expecting me to give you a rundown on the best way to present the Gospel to the next generation in a manner in which they will understand. Isn’t that where we’re going with this? If you are anything like me, you would really like some specific words or a particular program like the Roman Road or the Four Spiritual Laws that you could use. Well, good luck with that.

See, here’s the deal. That is the problem. The problem is that we want a recipe or a 5 step formula for winning the postmodern soul. We want a script. It’s no wonder that the young think we’re like bad used car salesmen or irritating telemarketers who interrupt their lives with something they don’t want to hear about. And, as Neil Postman once wrote, they have built in “crap detectors.” So you can’t just blow smoke. They can spot insincerity a mile away.

“One size fits all” evangelism models make our victims feel like marks in a con game. Why can’t we learn to be ourselves? Jim Henderson, in his book Evangelism without Additives, talks about being real and simply “nudging people closer to Jesus” by asking good questions and then paying attention to their answers. He calls them “attention giveaways.” What a profound idea!

If there is a “secret” or a methodology, it is this: make a friend—a sincere one. Not a hey-I’ll-be-your-friend-so-I-can-win-you-to-Jesus kind of friend. I’m talking about developing a love relationship with someone that is unconditional. My problem used to be that I didn’t even know anyone who didn’t know Jesus.

Frankly, I used to spend 7 days a week in church and never got the opportunity to meet someone who wasn’t already like me. So we had to construct programs and events designed to pull people inside if we were to even have a chance with them. But if we had been truly trying to reach non-believers, that would make about as much sense as inviting a bank robber to come into the police station.

Today’s “church growth strategies” are really designed at reaching a “better class of sinner.” In truth, they are not aimed at “sinners” at all. Instead the targets are other church’s “sheep” or the grownups who have stopped going to church for one reason or another. So in reality, the Church (big “C”) is not growing at all.

We have to come to grips with the fact that we live in a pagan country where the basics of scripture and the Gospel are no longer common knowledge. It’s a new day. The old days of throw-enough-mud-on-the-wall-and-some-of-it-will-stick evangelism are over.

Todd Hunter, former director of Alpha USA, says, “It used to be that people primarily listened their way into Christian faith. That made the Christian role talking: defending the faith, explaining the faith, doing apologetics, preaching, writing tracts, etc. While that reality is not entirely gone, these days outsiders are increasingly talking and observing their way into faith. They need to tell their story and see if Christianity is real. This major shift is difficult, because right when seekers are looking instead of listening, the church is at a high mark of un-Christian living. Transformation into Christlikeness has always been the goal of Christianity. Now it is utterly strategic—the future of the faith in the USA, humanly speaking, depends upon it.”

Did you notice? Outsiders today are “talking and observing their way into faith.” This makes our job listening and living it—two things we don’t do very well. In fact, one outsider is quoted in the book UnChristian as saying, “It seems like Christians are more concerned with being right than being loving.” However, that has to change. If we are ever going to reach the next step in our mission, we have got to learn to love, listen, and live like Christ. Then we can count on the Holy Spirit to handle the next step.

Contextualize the Message, Part 2

2009-06-02T23:33:00.009-05:00

In his 1964 book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, Marshall McLuhan introduced his now famous line “the medium is the message.” Only the smartest people got it back then. Now, 45 years later, we can observe it every day. Just watch a television commercial. Advertisers don’t sell products, they sell cool. (Think: Abercrombie & Fitch, Mac, Starbucks.) These days, how you say it is more important than what you say.

Just to simplify, let me give you an example. If you were to hand someone under the age of 30 a cassette tape and say, “This is a really cool song,” you can be certain it will never be listened to. Not to mention the fact that they won’t have anything to play it on, the medium is so outdated that what is on it cannot be cool. The medium itself (cassette tape) screams, “Un-cool!”

Now, McLuhan would tell us that I was over-simplifying his life’s work—that what he meant was so much more than this. I get that. But this concept is no small matter to those of us who believe we have the most important message ever delivered. So it is proper that we should consider the media with which we communicate it.

It should be said that McLuhan was no Luddite. However, he was well aware of how media affect not only the messages they contain but also those who receive them. Like other educators (Neil Postman for example), he believed that technology was a force to be reckoned with. But McLuhan’s proposition isn’t just about technology. Let me give you another example.

Have you ever stumbled onto a television preacher and been stunned at the delivery? Try turning off the sound. It can be pretty disturbing. Especially if you consider that the message that is being communicated is in everything except the words. So, with the sound off, what is being communicated? That is the message—whether the sound is on or not.

One more. Let’s move to street level. I was having lunch the other day with an old friend that I hadn’t seen in 10 years. As it turns out, he carries fake $1,000,000 bills which have a salvation message on the back. (He got them from Ray Comfort and Kirk Cameron.) And he indiscriminately hands them to people he meets. I was mortified. It goes against everything I believe about connecting people with Jesus. Why? Well, what is the message being communicated? It’s not the one on the back of the fake bill.

Here’s the real message. I don’t know you. And I don’t have time to get to know you. But I have an agenda, and it supersedes common courtesy and your measly feelings. So here it is. You’re going to hell. (So sad.) But, you can change that right here, right now before some freakish cash register accident claims your life. Yes, if you will only say these words (printed here for you) you too can have eternal life. Oh, and by the way, it’s okay to feel inferior. I do have superior knowledge about what is best for you. You don’t have to thank me.

Some of you may think I’m exaggerating about how unchurched people feel about this kind of approach. I’m not. In fact, many Christians feel the same way. I have a friend who just had a t-shirt made that says: “I’m already saved. Leave me alone.” Except it says it a little stronger than that.

So, with McLuhan in the back of our heads, how do we contextualize the message for the next generation? Here’s another way to ask the question. How do we assure that the medium we use communicates the real message we want to express?

Contextualize the Message, Part 1

2009-05-29T16:23:00.006-05:00

There is a 100 year old story (legend) told by the great Indian follower of Jesus Sadhu Sundar Singh. (A Sadhu is a Hindu ascetic.) The story is about a Brahman man—a high-caste Hindu—in India who fainted from the summer heat while sitting on a train at a railway station. Someone ran to the faucet, filled a cup with water, and brought it to the man in an attempt to revive him. But in spite of his condition, the passenger would not accept the water because it was offered to him in the cup of a man belonging to another caste. Then someone noticed that the high-caste man had a cup on the seat beside him; so he grabbed it, went out and filled it with water, returned, and offered it to the man, who now readily accepted the water with gratitude.

At this point, Sundar Singh would tell his audience that missionaries from the West had been offering the “water of life” to the people of India in a foreign cup. Therefore, they were reluctant to receive it. However, Sundar Singh was offering it in their own cup, so that they were much more likely to accept it. In other words, as an indigenous member of the Indian culture, Sundar Singh was able to offer up the Gospel in an indigenous form. Now they could understand the message within the context of their lives.

Unfortunately, the American church has mistakenly supposed that she has been communicating the Gospel in the language and the context of the culture. Perhaps, the message and methods of the early twentieth century worked back then, but for the last 50 years the strident call has been falling on increasingly deaf ears. We have not been offering the water of life in their cup. We’ve been offering it up in ours—a cup forged in modernity and revivalism, with words and idioms of a bygone era. I call it a King James message to a Stephen King world.

Meanwhile, the culture has left us in the dust, while we have become more and more culturally incestual. Some who would criticize the Amish practices of isolationist customs and behaviors are just as separatist in their traditions and programs.

The Campus Crusade tract The Four Spiritual Laws depicts a familiar picture to most Christians of an uncrossable canyon between man and God which must be bridged by the cross of Jesus. Unfortunately, before that message will be heard, there is an equally uncrossable and ever-widening gap fixed between church culture and popular culture. And it is a crevasse that must be bridged by the church.

In places and circumstances where people have been less receptive to the message of the Gospel, several scholars have tried to understand and plot the journey to faith. James Engel in his 1975 book What’s Gone Wrong with the Harvest? shares what has become known as the Engel Scale. Expanding on Engel’s work, Paul and Sue Hazelden began working on a modified Engel Scale in 2000 which is a bit more broad. It includes people who have no “God concept” at all. And, finally Frank Gray of the Far East Broadcasting Company developed the Gray Matrix that expands their work. His matrix includes not only the cognitive elements of the Engel Scale but also attitudinal aspects—a person’s receptivity to the message—on a two-dimensional model with vertical and horizontal axes.

These will not be explained here, but they can be studied separately by accessing the links provided. Believe me, they are an invaluable resource for anyone who is trying to understand the progression toward faith and how important life context is in that process. It is also a valuable tool for the church to recognize that most of its efforts will not reach to people any further away than about a negative four on the Engel Scale. And most church programs are designed for people in the “C” quadrant (higher knowledge and receptivity) of the Gray Matrix.

In part two we will include what it might look like to offer the water of life in their cup.

Immerse Yourself in the Culture

2009-05-27T18:18:00.011-05:00

One of the mistaken assumptions of early missions from the West to “less civilized” continents was that the countries being conquered, colonized, “civilized,” and proselytized were in some way inferior to Western culture. Anyone who has ever seen the 1980 Jamie Uys masterpiece “The Gods Must Be Crazy” realizes the absurdity of that thinking. Or if you know the story of Gandhi, whose moral superiority brought the British Empire to its knees, you can appreciate the hubris of such belief.

Thank goodness and hindsight that we are now teaching new candidates a better approach to “foreign missions.” At least in most schools we are embracing the worth and the beauty of cultural diversity. And we’re teaching aspiring missionaries how important it is to immerse themselves in the life and culture of the indigenous.

However, we Westerners are slow to learn. It is unfortunate that the same antiquated 19th century kind of thinking still goes on inside the minds of people at all levels in the American church. American Christians believe their way of life to be superior in every way to those outside the church. Therefore, we continue the conquer, colonize, civilize, and proselytize mentality of our forbears.

But what if we—like our foreign counterparts—were to immerse ourselves in the culture around us? What if we were to embrace the culture outside the walls of the church? Here in America. What would that look like? I’m not advocating sin. I’m not advocating promiscuity. What I am advocating is changing the TV channel away from Christian television and to the shows that are exploring spiritual matters. Try listening to NPR instead of Christian radio.

Current shows like “Lost” or “Heroes” or “Ghost Whisperer” explore spirituality. Even the prime-time cartoon “The Simpsons” poses questions and explores possible answers to the spiritual quest of some of its characters. And has done so for 20 years! In fact, Homer’s next door neighbor Ned Flanders (fictional graduate of Oral Roberts University) made the cover of “Christianity Today.” There are myriad ways to explore the culture without indulging in immoral behavior.

More importantly, what I am advocating is sitting at table with those who will never darken the door of a church. What I am advocating is befriending “prostitutes,” “tax collectors,” and “sinners.” Does that sound vaguely familiar?

What I am advocating is creating opportunities to be a light that is surrounded by darkness. A candle adds very little light to a room brightly lit with hundreds of other intense lights. And a light hidden under the “bushel” of church walls is no light at all.

Then, beyond sitting at table, we must listen to the hearts and the voices of those who find themselves outside our exclusive circle. The inventor of the stethoscope, René Laennec, said, “Listen to your patients; they are telling you how to heal them.” Great advice for the church.

I love this quote from Earl Creps’ book Off-Road Disciplines: “Christian leaders today need to listen for the questions posed by those navigating our cultural perfect storm, regardless of the relationship of those voices to the Church. This sort of humility requires no compromise of orthodoxy but goes a long way toward defusing an often suspicious post-Christian audience, while maturing the Church in its devotion to Christ.” (p. 132)

Learning the language and immersing one’s self in the culture are the first two steps that will allow us to contextualize the message of Jesus for the people outside the church. Contextualization is the next step in the process.

Learn the Language

2009-05-26T22:15:00.016-05:00

If you plan on being a missionary, the need for learning a new language when you move to another country is pretty obvious. One can only gain minimum credibility by speaking to natives through an interpreter. Being able to communicate in the language of the people group one is trying to reach is an imperative.

Many missionaries will tell you that about all they accomplish during their first four years in a new country is learning the language. It is a worthy investment of time, however long it takes. I can’t imagine any reasonable person who would disagree with this. Nevertheless, this is apparently only applicable in ministry outside of the United States. I mean, how could there be a language barrier here in America? We all speak the same language, right?

Well, no. We don’t.

Every week in churches all over America, pastors and parishioners are practicing and expanding upon a dialect of English which is not spoken, heard, or understood by the majority of Americans. Some call it “Christianese.” Whatever we label it, it is unmistakably a “foreign” language to the rest of the culture.

The more isolated we (the Church) have become, the more idiomatic phrases and “secret handshakes” have become a part of the common conversation inside and outside the four walls of our churches. Inside jokes and exclusive language with an “us versus them” mentality pervade our speech. It’s as though insiders have the need to develop a code that isn’t breakable by outsiders.

This is just a small example, but we had an incident early on in our experience that was a reminder to us to be diligent in “watching our language.” One week, one of our leaders led a prayer. I think it was before an offering. But he ended the prayer with these words: “And everyone said…”

So, maybe two people said, “Amen.” I was horrified. That is so much an insider secret handshake. The next week we had a leadership meeting.

I used humor and approached the subject of the transgression lightly, so that he didn’t feel scolded. But the disturbing part about pointing it out in that meeting was that not one other person on our leadership team had thought about how “insider” that phrase was. They remembered him saying it, but at the time no one else thought anything of it. But the “outsiders” who were present that day had no idea what “everyone said.”

I have found that there are two things we “churchy” people need to do in order to recognize such insider language and eliminate it from our vocabularies. First, we need to remove ourselves from the source of insider speech. For example, I used to spend 7 days a week in the church. I didn’t have time to even meet an outsider, let alone establish a relationship with someone who didn’t already “know the code.” I will address this later.

Secondly, we need to immerse ourselves in the culture of those outside our circle. That I will address next.

"Missionaries" to Tulsa

2009-05-25T00:30:00.005-05:00

Sometimes just thinking gets me in trouble. I guess it’s not really the thinking; it’s when I open my mouth about what I’m thinking. When I was studying for the credentialing process, I started wondering: Why do pastors and missionaries go through a completely different set of courses from each other? (Am I the only guy who wonders about stuff like this?) I know that the Bible materials, the hermeneutics, the homiletics, and other things are the same. But, aren’t these two considered (in most Bible schools and seminaries) different schools, or at least different departments? Pastoral ministry on the one hand and missions education on the other?

Why?

Now, I know that I didn’t go to a Bible college or a seminary, but I have a lot of friends who did. A lot of friends. Close, personal friends. Plus, I had to take a miniature version of “Bible school” at the institute level in order to become ordained. We’re talking 33 courses on everything from church history to church polity, from Roberts Rules of Order to the most basic of doctrines—orthodoxy, and orthopraxy—with a little preaching, a little administration, and a little leadership thrown into the mix. So I have a clue.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not foolish enough to think of my education as an equivalent to that of the greatest American seminaries. I am well aware that I drew the short stick there. But, I was only required to take one course on cross cultural communications and another on world religions. And according to my unscientific surveys of friends, that’s not too far off from “real” Bible schools.

In the last 10 years, I’ve done quite a lot of self-educating in the study of missiology. (Once again, the short stick, on the short bus.) And I have been surprised at what I have learned. Your experience may be different from mine. However, after a childhood of observing shaky 16mm movies of missionaries who had turned naked African “savages” into Americanized “Christians” wearing shoes, long pants, white shirts, and ties, it wasn’t hard for even a child to see what was wrong with this picture. Needless to say, many years ago I bought into a more indigenous method. At least with regard to “foreign” missions—a method that did not violate the “Prime Directive.”

But more recently, in the starting of a new church, I came to the conclusion that while this method is being used all over the world (hopefully), it hasn’t been tried in America—at least not in the last 50 years, if ever. And, with church attendance at less than 20% of the American population on any given Sunday, it might be time to appropriate indigenous mission methods on American soil.

You can take this or leave it, since I am the “short stick” guy. But I have been working on a five step summary of the indigenous method. So, at the risk of over-simplifying, here are the basics of how one might accomplish such an endeavor. I will merely list the steps here, but I will attempt to explain each one with a succeeding blog chapter.

1. Learn the language.
2. Immerse yourself in the culture.
3. Contextualize the Gospel into the language and the culture of the indigenous.
4. Allow the Holy Spirit to draw the indigenous.
5. Empower and send the indigenous to reach their own.

I don’t like the verbiage of “strategy” when it comes to the Gospel. It objectifies the “target audience” and has militaristic overtones. But, these simple steps could certainly qualify as a broad guideline and a methodology for rethinking our approach to church and to mission in America.

Culture

2009-05-20T18:08:00.006-05:00

It is my experience that the culture of a group of people is far greater than the sum of its parts. Now by culture I don’t mean the group’s level of sophistication. I’m not talking about its art, its combined knowledge, or its cultural anthropology. What I am referring to is the set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterize a community. Thus, a group’s culture is more than the combination of individual personalities in the crowd. It involves their interactions with each other—their relationships. One may have a bond with another, but how is that relationship affected by the introduction of a third, a fourth, and/or a fifth person.
Interestingly, I’ve found that the larger the group, the more likely it becomes that a certain hierarchy will naturally begin to appear. And such a perceived pecking order may be determined by the simplest or the most complex of means. Things as diverse as money, beauty, position, power, and personality may affect one’s place in such an unsanctioned caste system. It is an extraordinary sociological pattern. But it is so much a part of who we are that we seldom notice or acknowledge its occurrence. However, when it is pointed out, we recognize it immediately.
For example, the wealthy get listened to. The beautiful hang together. Smart people get together to talk about smart stuff. While the shy, the plain, and the average give mental and sociological assent to the perceived worth of the perky, the beautiful, and the exceptional. And the higher up the ladder one goes, the more influence he or she wields in the shaping of the future attitudes, values, and practices of the larger group. In other words, the people at the top of the heap have the most influence on the culture.
But what if a culture could be established that would do away with the natural order of things? What if it were possible to begin with everyone in the group at the same level of influence and worth? What if money, beauty, position, power, and personality were no longer forms of measurement? And what if the poor, the plain, the lowly, the weak, and the introvert were valued as equals with them? And what if it were possible to maintain that kind of altruism? What would that look like?
I think it might look like the church that Jesus intended for us to be—without hierarchy, rank, or privilege. It might look like a people who are united despite ethnicity, socio-economic status, or gender. (Galatians 3:28) And that might lend itself to producing a citizenship which embraces everyone, regardless of their status, influence, or behavior.
What would a church be if everyone looked like priests, all with equal access to God? And what if everyone in the community were equal partners in leadership and had an identical empowerment for service? And what if the community’s meeting spaces looked more like real life places than specialty buildings constructed exclusively for the use of “Christians?” But that’s getting away from culture…sort of.
This is the premise upon which Agora was started. It was and is intended to be a foundation of love, mutual respect, and understanding.
We have found that everyone has a story. And that we have no right to judge someone if we don’t know their story. And then once we know their story, we have no need or desire to judge them. This is the power of authentic relationships. True relationship not only brings judgmentalism to an end, it also takes away the power of gossip. Because we are all invested in one another.
When a community shares attitudes, values, goals, and practices, a culture is formed. But if that culture is to be perpetuated, it must faithfully carry out its values and practices, embrace new members, and thoroughly train its progeny. That also sounds like church.
Thus, for the above reasons and some others we will enumerate, I have found that an effective ecclesiology begins with a culture, more than a doctrine.

The Big Shift

2009-05-14T22:25:00.004-05:00

This blog entry marks a shift in focus. Previously, I have attempted to tell of the circumstances and the serendipitous events which brought about our beginnings—our “Origin of Species.” But now I will attempt to shift the focus from the past to our current condition and methodology. No doubt I will use the occasional flashback for a better perspective on various discoveries.
I have been writing this blog for two major purposes. The first is to explain to the Agora community why and how we came to be. Every family needs to know its family tree. We know better where we are, when we know from whence we have come.
The second reason I have put this to “paper” is to report to anyone who is curious how the grand experiment is going. I see it as a way to make a more legitimate “progress report” to constituents as well as onlookers than the classic format. You see, at the end of every year, I have to file a rather detailed account of our numbers—people and dollars. And, although I agree that there should be an accountability where progress—success or failure—can be measured, people and dollars (or nickels and noses) are not the best way to do it.
I have found that the only accurate way to report progress in this paradigm is for us to tell our stories. So, from this point forward it will be an ongoing report—a telling of our stories both collective and individual.
The one thread that you will see appearing both in the larger narrative as well as the smaller ones is relationship. Everything we do is geared toward developing, maintaining, and experiencing relationship—with God, with each other, and with real people. And, it is the priority of relationship that has helped us to develop the one characteristic of Agora that flavors everything else (like salt flavors food/the earth): our culture.

The Plan

2009-05-13T01:21:00.008-05:00

On Sunday, October 31, 2004, Pastor Phil gave us the whole day to make a presentation to the church at Carbondale. On Sunday morning, we announced my resignation and provided the people a dialogue about the next generation. Our primary text came from the Old Testament book of Judges. It is an accurate description of many who live in our city today. “After that whole generation had been gathered to their fathers, another generation grew up, who knew neither the LORD nor what he had done for Israel.” (Judges 2:10) We talked about the need to reach to people in our church-rich city who would never walk into a building full of “Christians” any more than a robber would go strolling into a police station.
That night, we talked about how we might strategize to accomplish this task. At the time, I had formulated a few ideas. By that I mean, I had read some books. So I shared some fancy power point pictures and diagrams that I had probably copied from either Ed Stetzer, Ralph Moore, or Frost / Hirsh. And we told the people of Carbondale that in the coming days they would all be invited to go with us—anyone who felt so led.
By January of 2005, we had already begun to meet weekly with a launch team that had been assembled. We also held Q & A meetings at Carbondale every Sunday night in January one hour prior to the evening service for anyone who was curious about the new endeavor. Carbondale also sent us to a church planting “Boot Camp” that helped us to clarify our vision, our mission, and our strategies.
Now, if I had it to do all over again, we would have taken a lot more time to plan and to prepare before a launch date. But we didn’t know any better. So, on Sunday morning, February 6, at 10:00 am, we gathered for the first time in the Zarrow Regional Library meeting room right across the street from Carbondale. It was, all in all, rather inauspicious. I probably sucked. I often do. But we had a couple of things going for us.
First, we had already answered “yes” to the big question: “At the end of the day, did God call us to do this?” So, there was that. But second, out of the 40 or so people who had decided to come with us, there were more than a handful of us who were determined to figure this thing out.
So maybe that’s another thing we had going for us. We never claimed to know for sure what to do or how to do it. What we found out was that we had a group of people—some of them any way—who were willing to suspend expectations and to dive into this grand experiment together. What we had was an assortment of folks who would become a community which was willing to help us develop the culture, the values, and the praxis that would become Agora.

Who Will Go with Us?

2009-04-29T19:57:00.003-05:00

In spite of our assurance that we had to do this, we still felt a lot of apprehension about how to proceed. We had read a couple of books on planting churches, but we had never done it before nor had we been a part of a plant. So, wouldn’t that be like reading a driver’s manual and then jumping right into a car and assuming that I can drive? I knew one thing: we would have to have help.
First of all, Pastor Phil had given us permission to present our vision to the entire church and to invite anyone who shared the vision to go with us. Not only was this a gracious gesture, it was nearly unheard of within the circles in which we ran. But before we were even ready for that we still had some work to do. We had to figure out what this new community would look like and why. We needed more training. And we needed some people we loved and trusted to help us dream and plan and to go with us to help.
It didn’t take us very long to deliberate as to whom we would ask to come alongside us. Two couples immediately came to mind, and once we had Pastor’s permission, we asked them to pray and to consider taking this leap with us.
I have to say that I don’t know what I would have done if either of them had said no. I was so convinced that they were the ones that I probably would have had to rethink the whole thing if either of them had said no. Thankfully, neither of them did.
David and Iva Gilliam had been friends of ours for more than a dozen years. We had been through a lot together and had served together in two different churches. David has a Christian Education degree as well as a Masters of Divinity diploma. Iva is an extremely talented musician and singer and one of the kindest, most capable people I know. Besides, we really love them. And you want to share this kind of experience with people you love and with which you like spending a lot of time.
Inexplicably, Dave and Iva said yes.
Now the Gilliams are pretty close to being our age. That’s not a bad thing. It’s just that we also felt that we needed a younger influence from the very beginning of this journey. If we were going to relate to the emerging generations we needed some of the indigenous on our team. So, the next couple we were compelled to invite was much younger.
Michael and Candace Marshall were leaders in the young adult department at Carbondale. I had gotten to know Mike in the ministerial training program that we had helped to start. Like the Gilliams, Mike and Candace had a definite call upon their lives and had demonstrated their abilities and their love for people. Now we were six.
Having these four people in the boat with us made the terror of it all minimally tolerable. Their yeses gave us impetus. But now we had to prepare to tell the church family about our plans, and see if anyone else would consider going with us.
O, wait! What was the plan?

At the End of the Day

2009-03-31T22:22:00.007-05:00

I don’t know what you do when you have a major decision to make, but I do some pretty dramatic stuff if the choice is particularly difficult. When everything is on the line, I don’t want to be casual about it. Deciding whether or not to start a church was arguably the most important decision of my life up to this point. So it was time for some drama.
I learned while studying and teaching the Old Testament that the “fleecing” that God allowed Gideon to do was not appropriate for me. You know the: Okay, God, if you want me to do this then let this other thing happen kind-of-thing. So, for example if I were to say, “God, if you want me to start a church, then let someone who doesn’t know we’re even considering it come and tell me we’re supposed to do it.” Or maybe, “If we’re supposed to do this, then let someone give an anonymous donation of several million dollars for the cause.” See, that would be inappropriate for me to ask for. So that was out.
The next thing I do—short of lightning or an audible voice—is to make a “pro / con” list. That’s where you draw a line down the center of a yellow legal pad and write “pro” on the left side and “con” on the right side. Okay, yeah, let’s do that. So I listed all the reasons for (pro) starting a church versus all the reasons not to (con). This turned out to be a rather futile exercise, because I was leaving a job for which I had years of education and experience. I had a great salary and benefits and a certain reputation in a rather controlled sampling of my peers. Plus security, retirement, and stability are not something to ignore at my age. And all of these things were on my “con” side. I would be leaving these things behind.
However, on the “pro” side were things like adventure, creativity, and challenge. None of those give me any hope of retirement before the age of 80. So that approach was a bust.
Now what?
I do believe in wise counsel. I’m certainly aware that I’m not the first guy to come up against a hard decision. So I sought the input of several whose opinion I value. One of those stood out. In fact, his words to us became the theme song of our step of faith.
Jeff Lucas is an internationally known speaker and author. Although England is his land of origin, America has also fallen in love with him. He now shares almost equal time between the two. And Carbondale has been a frequent stop for him over the last several years.
While we were in the throws of decision-making, Jeff paid us a visit. He gave us some really good input and insight into new ways of doing and thinking about church. But the best advice we received in the weeks during our dilemma were these. Jeff said, “Here’s the only question you have to answer: At the end of the day, has God called you to do this?”
That may seem so simple—kind of a “duh!” But those straightforward words became our answer. When we looked at it from that perspective, we knew the answer.
“Yes.”

Not Your Grandpa’s Church

2009-03-24T00:14:00.003-05:00

Start a church? Really? Had I ever thought about it? Well, not out loud, but certainly I had dreamed. Maybe a better word is fantasized. However, over the years I had developed quite a stack of concerns about the modern church. Those concerns were magnified in the years I spent teaching ministerial candidates in the study center sponsored by the church. Then layer on top of that all the questions spawned by the tornado and then the subversive stuff Earl had given to me to read.
I knew one thing for sure: Tulsa didn’t need another church. There’s already one on almost every street corner, and another one pops up about every other week or so. They are as numerous and prolific as roaches.
That, despite the fact that the church in Oklahoma and across America hasn’t been growing for dozens of years. We’ve just been passing around the same people among us. Why would I want to build a church out of somebody else’s rejects? People who are disgruntled in one place will still be disgruntled when they show up at your place.
While we’re talking about shuffling people, Tulsa is the biggest of culprits. One preacher has a new revelation and builds up a big following. But then he can’t keep it in his pants, so another “man of the hour” comes along until he gets a wandering eye or an old skeleton knocks on his office door.
And church in Tulsa is big business—big names, big buildings, and big money. The smorgasbord of programs, groups, and activities makes the local churches without a doubt the largest providers of consumer services in the state. Church has become a pay-as-you-go, consumer-driven enterprise where money changes hands in exchange for “services rendered.” And those consumers (called members) have expectations.
And those expectations begin with: church is supposed to be the place where the God-stuff gets done. Where our children and youth are supposed to get discipled so we, their parents, don’t have to do it. Us too, for that matter. Disciple me so I don’t have to do that myself either.
Oh and, we need a place to discover and exercise our “gifts.” Especially the ones that the “world” can’t seem to appreciate. We need a place where we can be suckled and be healed and find meaning and purpose. And if we don’t feel we’re getting our money’s worth, we can move on claiming we weren’t being fed.
After I pondered all of this—all things I had experienced or witnessed—I concluded that if I was nuts enough to go through with it, there would have to be a major paradigm shift. Not just in the thinking but in our whole approach to “doing church.” If we decided to do it, it would not be; it could not be my grandpa’s church.

Everything Changes

2009-03-17T02:11:00.005-05:00

Everything started to unravel the day Darryl told us he was taking a hike. He had been asked to return home to the church (First Assembly of God) in which he grew up in Bartlesville, Oklahoma. He had already seen from his experience with Phil and me that you can “go home.” It was explained to him that this was an opportunity to eventually become the pastor, because the senior pastor there was getting ready to retire. That’s a whole other story that I’ll let Darryl tell.
However, Darryl’s leaving meant the death of the “Dream Team.” It was a great nine year run. But, as they say, “All good things must come to an end.” For me, it was the end of a very good thing.
With all the stuff Earl Creps had put into my head, with Darryl’s departure, with major staff modifications, and my own growing discontent with the “status quo,” it was inevitable that things would come to a head. To Phil’s credit, he recognized it for what it was.
A staff disagreement over changes that were being made, some not for the better and I had a melt down. This could have gone a lot of different ways, but Phil saw what was happening. He called me in one day, and we sat down and talked like we had so many other times. When “stuff” happens, like it always will, it really helps to have a mutual respect and a sincere love for one another.
We talked about the church. We talked about the stuff we were reading. We talked about the changes and the clashes.
He said to me, “You know, I’ve been doing things this way for a long time, almost 30 years. And I don’t think I’m ready to change everything. Because that is what it would take.” He said, “But I’ve heard you say so many times, ‘If I ever pastored a church… I’d do this or that.’” He told me, “Plus, you know how much I love this church and all of its people, many of whom would have to be dragged through this kind of change.” And then he added, “But what if you did it? What if you started something new based on the stuff we’ve been reading? What if you planted a new church and we helped you?”
I was stunned. Was he serious?
What’s really interesting about all of this is that before I ever came back to Carbondale, Phil and I started talking about planting a church some day. In the late 80’s, inner-city churches were the cool thing to consider. So we had talked about that. In fact, the youth pastor before Darryl had left to plant an inner-city church in Oklahoma City. But, up until then, I had never thought about it being me. And I don’t think either of us could have anticipated that it would be this kind of church.
I left his office that day with my head spinning. I had said, “Are you serious?”
He said, “Yes, very serious. Go talk to Vicki, pray about it, and then let’s get back together and talk some more.”
So I said I would.
Almost immediately the wheels started turning. I wasn’t sure where it all was coming from. I started talking about the culture of a church and its core values over programs and doctrine. This was long before I read about it. I started thinking about the failure of preaching to achieve any appreciable change in behavior. And I started asking what a church would look like and feel like that would embrace all who walked through its doors.
From before the beginning, the seeds were planted that would become Agora. But there were still several steps to be taken and more questions to be asked before we discussed anything as drastic as a launch date.

Associate Pastor of Music

2009-03-11T00:33:00.004-05:00

I told you earlier that when the tornado hit, we did a lot of soul searching and rethinking as a church and particularly as a staff. We had time to think about what we were going to do when we got our newly reconstructed building with twice the space as before. We evaluated our strengths and looked honestly at the potential that was there.
Finally we decided that one of our strengths was our great staff relations and the talent that was contained therein. Phil, Darryl, and I were at times the three musketeers, the three tenors, or the three stooges, depending upon with whom you talked. We evaluated our strengths individually and collectively and looked at the giftings of the congregation as a whole. As a result we decided to do some restructuring.
We decided to change our titles to reflect a more unified and balanced pastoral approach. Darryl and I would both be associate pastors. And we decided to play to our individual strengths. Mine was music. And the giftings of the church as a whole included an incredible amount of musical talent. So I became the Associate Pastor of Music, and I took over the entire music program.
Darryl was the Associate Pastor of Students. And we let Phil keep his title as Senior Pastor.
Eventually we added Mike Atkinson to play the straight man. Not that he wasn’t really quick, really smart, and really funny. He was. And is. It’s just that we needed someone who could handle the business side. The three choleric sanguines needed a melancholy to balance us out. He became the Associate Pastor of Administration.
I really didn’t ponder it for very long, but I did wonder if I had been demoted. I decided quickly that it didn’t really matter. I was having a blast. I enjoyed the new challenge of a stellar music ministry. So I just put my head down and broke into a full sprint.
We had so much talent. In fact, while we were still at VBI, the orchestra would rehearse on Sunday afternoons. I had nearly 30 instrumentalists. One day the music guy from Victory came by to sit in on our rehearsal. We were a church of 500 people with an all volunteer orchestra of nearly 30 by then. While he had a handful of musicians in a church of 10,000. He was flabbergasted.
I could have been satisfied to stay there for a long time to come. But then came that Earl Creps guy and another tornado. Not a wind of destruction this time, but a wind of change.

Assistant Pastor

2009-03-09T23:02:00.004-05:00

When I came to work at Carbondale in 1992, I was hired to be the Assistant Pastor. It was a transitional role for me. I had been involved in Church Music Ministry since I was very young—participant, volunteer, part-time, and finally full-time. So I had been a Minister of Music, but I had been feeling like I should be more involved with people and less involved in producing a product. (One church had actually called me the Minister of Fine Arts. But I was a choir director and a worship leader just like I had been everywhere else.)
As the assistant pastor, I got to be involved in every aspect of the church’s work. From administration to children, from Christian education to nursery, from calendars to communication, I got a taste of it all. And, because I was called alongside to help the pastor, and because my input was valued, I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to offer my knowledge, perspective, and experience to every major decision. I mean, I had already been in full-time ministry for what, seven years. And I had been watching people who were pastors since I was old enough to remember. What else was there to know?
Of course, Phil had already been on staff in this one place for 16 years and the pastor for 7. (What did he know?) So it was inevitable that Phil and I would eventually disagree about some things. Honestly, I don’t remember very many of those. However, I do remember one time when we did disagree.
It wasn’t earth-shaking. We both had strong opinions. Of course, ultimately it wasn’t my decision to make. But we disagreed. So, after the decision was made and carried out, I actually put in writing my objections to it. Seriously? Yes, I did. Nevertheless, I made it clear that although these were my feelings on the subject, I would back him and his decision. I assured him that no one would ever know that we had disagreed. Well, until now.
Now, you don’t know what it was all about, and I’m certainly not going to tell you. But, I think each of us believes he was right, all these years later. I mean, I believed that there were eternal ramifications to the decision. Not the least of which was probably Phil’s secret eye-rolling, “O, brother! What have I gotten myself into with this guy?”
Truth be told, Phil was always gracious toward my zeal. He never made me feel like an idiot. Frankly, I didn’t need his help to do that.

Who Gave You the Keys?

2009-03-01T03:32:00.005-06:00

At the risk of overstating this, I have to say that coming home in 1992 to work in the church in which I grew up was the coolest. I could not have been more stoked. And working side by side with my cousin, friend, and “brother” Phil was almost too good to be true.
That’s not to say that it was without challenges. We had our work cut out for us when we got there. But we survived the transition. And then, in little more than a year, we even survived another transition—our first staff change. That modification in personnel necessitated our becoming interim youth pastors, which we had done before.
However, the guy Phil hired to step into that position could not have fit in any better with us. Even though he was 15 years younger, Darryl Wooton was and still is the man. In no time, we were known as one of the best teams in our region. The church flourished, and people wanted to hear from us the secret of our success. They asked for our advice on pastor and staff relations. We didn’t have much to tell them except, “We really love each other, and we love working together.” Apparently, that’s not all that common. But our years together will always be remembered as some of the most fun I have ever had in ministry.
We were having a blast. In fact, we joked about the inmates taking over the asylum. Phil remarked once that it was such a dream, and we were still such “kids” on the inside that we were expecting at any moment one of the elders to storm into our “staff meeting” over Chinese food at “Golden Palace” and say, “What do you boys think you’re doing? Who gave you the keys to this place? Give those back. We’re going to need some adults to take over here.”
But that never happened. They let us be in charge. And that could have continued until I retired as far as I was concerned. I think I could have been content to stay there for a long time.
But then the tornado hit.

The “Peacemakers”

2009-02-13T10:32:00.003-06:00

I have only attended two Easter Sunrise Services in my life. The first was at Carbondale Assembly of God on Easter Sunday (duh…), April 6th, 1969. The second was at the infamous church I worked at in Georgia. I find it interesting that neither one of them ever did it more than once. Once was so enough.
However, on that auspicious day in 1969, there was a lot of time in between the sunrise service and Sunday School. So, several of us younger folks were wasting time in the “fellowship hall.” Someone had found a youth choir book, so Phil sat down at the piano while the rest of us stood looking over his shoulder. Before long, we were making some pretty good sounds. All of us read music well enough to read the parts, and soon we decided we might have something. Here are the names of the five youth who formed a new ensemble that morning, in alphabetical order: Paula Hale, Roger Sharp, Phil Taylor, Jeff Taylor, and Zelinda Warnock.
We performed a few times. Once even outside of our church, but I don’t remember where that was. People were impressed, primarily because we were so young. I was 13 and the youngest. But Roger was the oldest at only 16.
Ultimately, the three of us guys got together and had a serious conversation about the future. Because we were so young and also because we had some pretty big dreams, we decided that involving young ladies in our big plans might eventually end in disaster or at least drama. (Sorry, girls. In case you never heard the truth, this is it.) So the mixed quintet became an all male trio.
My dad had been a part of a group called the “Peacemakers” for a very short period of time. They already had business cards and stationery with my home address and phone number on them. So “Peacemakers” was as good a name as any. Better than most. Plus, now we had stationery. And cards.
These three guys—Roger, Phil, and Jeff—could never have imagined what they were forming. This was an alliance, a partnership, and a friendship that would last a lifetime. And the music we would make would take us all over the world. April 6th, 2009 will be our 40th anniversary as a group. We are still performing together after all these years. In fact, we just traveled to Russia where we performed in several major cities in beautiful old “opera houses.”
Over the years, we all traveled different paths. There were even periods of years when we didn’t perform at all. But our paths have continued to cross because of the one constant in all of it—our home: Carbondale. Where we grew up, where we met, and where we continue to connect.
So, you will have a hard time imagining what a thrill it was to be asked to come home to work in the church of my childhood.

No Place Like Home

2009-02-11T10:58:00.002-06:00

Before I get into 1992, let’s go back to the beginning—my beginning—in 1955. (I know. It was like 3 years before the car was invented.) Like the starting phrase of a bad novel, it was a dark and stormy night, literally. And it looked like I wasn’t going to “pop out” anytime soon. So they sent dad home and kept mom. These were the days when dads had to sit in the waiting room anyway, so they thought he ought to sleep in his own bed instead of loitering in the lobby all night.
Dad was a little nervous, I think, so instead of giving the hospital his phone number—just in case—he gave them his boss’ number. So sure enough, in the middle of the night they called Hildred Tucker’s home and said, “Your wife is about to have a baby.” Hildred informed them that his wife Mary was lying in bed asleep next to him. Well, it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened. Hildred gave them dad’s number, and dad rushed up to St. John.
That night, the newest, youngest member of Mom’s OB/GYN staff was on call. Dr. Cohen delivered me early that next morning. (As a side note, that same Dr. Cohen, as the senior member of the same group, was on call almost 28 years later and also delivered our first daughter Whitney.)
By 1959, my family had moved to West Tulsa and we started attending a little church at the corner of West 48th and South 30th West Avenue. I grew up at Carbondale Assembly of God. In fact, I don’t remember anything prior to Carbondale.
In October of 1967, the congregation moved to its current location on West 51st street. I barely remember that. But in the previous summer of 1967, my favorite cousin Phil had moved from Muskogee, Oklahoma to Tulsa. That I remember well.
We were born seven months apart in 1955—he in May and I in December. But we loved one another like brothers from the time we were little. In fact, before they moved to Tulsa, anytime one of us would visit the other we would cry when it was time to go home.
“Why do we have to live so far apart? It’s not fair.”
So, it was a glorious day, the day they rolled into West Tulsa to live. And, while they were building a house in Berryhill, they rented a house a little over a mile from ours. That summer, we would walk to and from each other’s houses, because we could. It was 1967. (Cars couldn’t go more than 10 miles an hour that far back, I don’t think.)
One day, we were walking up 51st street on the way to our house and passed the home of an older boy from the church. He was out mowing his lawn. Roger Sharp was three years older than us. I was getting ready to go into the 6th grade. Which means he was getting ready to start the 9th. I was so nervous. I didn’t even know if he would know who I was. In fact, I still don’t know if he did. But I was determined to introduce my cousin to him and vice versa. I probably wanted them both to think I was cool.
Roger stopped his riding lawnmower, acted like he knew who I was—even if he didn’t—and couldn’t have been kinder to me and to Phil, the new kid.
From that summer to this day, Phil and I have been almost inseparable. People who have known us for many years think of us together. Many of those people believe we are brothers, when, in fact, we are closer than that. But in less than two years we would add another one to the band of brothers. That kid on the mower would form a fraternity with us that would take us all over the world together.

Three Pastors

2009-02-02T00:40:00.003-06:00

Following my “Saul” experience in Georgia, the next three pastors I worked for were good men. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it was to work for honorable men who felt a tremendous sense of responsibility not only to their congregation and to their calling but also to those whom they had called along side to help. I learned so much from each of them: patience, loyalty, compassion, and diplomacy… and patience.
Having been in corporate work for several years, I was coming from a much more black and white and “secular” perspective in my approach to people and to situations. I was much more the “Barney Fife” nip-it-in-the-bud kind of guy. But, these men taught me that this seldom works in your favor with people.
There’s a standing joke among preachers that doesn’t often get spoken aloud. The joke is: Pastoring would be a great job if it wasn’t for the people. Of course the irony is that pastoring is, of course, a people job. So, it is also a job of learning for a lifetime.
I remember reading a short phrase in the original Life’s Little Instruction Book, and when I read it, it was a revelation. I suddenly understood what these three men had been trying to teach me. Here it is.
“Never cut what can be untied.”
For some of you reading this, it will be inconsequential. But when I read it, an immediate bright halogen headlight turned on. I suddenly understood that my natural inclination was to cut, slice, rip, nip, and hack—leaving behind an unusable piece of yarn. But in the actions of these men I saw, time and time again that prayerfully left alone, most things work out “on their own,” without someone having to be the bad guy. Or perhaps, given enough time, God works things together for his purposes, so long as I don’t try to force it and screw it up.
Once I learned this principle, it didn’t mean that I didn’t get impatient. Actually, it often drove me crazy. But it has paid off, and it has gotten easier over the years.
Of the three men I worked for after we left Georgia, the best one was family. In March of 1992, I returned home.

The “Saul” Experience

2009-01-28T13:32:00.005-06:00

The Israelite king David was anointed king long before the existing king Saul had died. So, to say there was some real tension between them would be a great understatement. You can read their story beginning at about 1 Samuel 16 and ending with Saul’s death in chapter 31.
Though Saul continued to try to kill David, David refused to kill Saul. And David let Saul know that he had had more than one opportunity to kill him but didn’t. In fact, 2 Samuel 1 tells the story of David’s grief over the loss of Saul. David only needed to know one thing: Saul was anointed by God and therefore once God had laid his hand on him, only God himself should take action against him. David’s own words on the subject can be found in 1 Samuel 26 especially verses 9 through 11.
I tell all of this in order to help the reader understand where some of us who have had a “Saul” experience are coming from.
Now, I have never had a pastor or anyone else trying to kill me and neither has any of my friends in ministry (except one). However, I do know what it is like to be subservient to someone who so obviously did not have my best interest in mind. Working for a pastor is like working for anyone else. We are all different. We all have strengths and weaknesses. We all have gifts and talents, but we also have a human side. And the human stuff is bone deep.
In Georgia I worked for a gifted man who was in way over his head. He had never pastored a multi-staffed church. He had never been surrounded by a board of deacons who were so adept at business and organization. And he had never had to head an explosive church.
On top of all that, we were almost forced into a building program within his first two years of service—a building program that would more than double the facilities. Anyone will tell you that a building program can overwhelm the most seasoned pastors. Frankly, I think he felt claustrophobic in the straight-jacket of administration.
He would stay away from the office for weeks—sometimes months—at a time. But that didn’t work for the deacon businessmen to whom he answered. So every now and then he would show up to micro-manage every aspect and department of the church. But that would only last for a short time. And during the long stretches in between, the rest of us on staff would have to fend for ourselves, make our own decisions, do the best we could, and lean upon one another. Eventually, we learned that many of his inadequacies were being blamed on us.
So, I had a choice to make. If I wanted to properly defend myself and preserve my job, I could have mounted a convincing campaign to have the guy fired based on so many things—things like incompetence, deception, and gross negligence. But I knew the experience of David and what the scriptures had to say about touching God’s anointed, no matter how unscrupulous he had been. Ultimately, I decided it was time to go rather than rat him out or continue to tacitly condone his behavior.
We left Georgia, returned to Oklahoma, took a $22,000 a year cut, and walked away. Not long after that, the pastor left the church and left the pastoral ministry. I was praying that this would be my one and only “Saul” experience. It was. This bad relationship was followed by several very good ones. I learned much from the next three pastors I worked for. They turned out to be very different from the first.

First Churches

2009-01-27T13:44:00.005-06:00

Every person who lives as long as I have has a long list of experiences that contribute to the totality of his knowledge and understanding. For people who spend years in the profession of ministry, those experiences are usually associated with churches and pastors for whom they have worked.
Now, I don’t have the resources or the inclination to do a survey of any real significance or sample size like George Barna. But, considering the anecdotal evidence I have collected from the people I know, often the most difficult experience in anyone’s ministry is their first church.
I don’t know if it’s some kind of ongoing weeding-out process that God does or if all my friends and I are special, but so many guys I know had their worst experience of their whole ministries at their first church.
My experience was not the exception.
The first church in which I worked full time was a place in Atlanta, Georgia. I will not name any names in order to protect both the innocent and the guilty. But it was the best and the worst—great people, beautiful city, priceless opportunity, huge budget, and incompetent administration.
First of all, in Atlanta, church is big business. The competition is ruthless; the churches are huge; and the pastors and even some of the parishioners are bigger than life. Names in that city include: Dr. Charles Stanley, Bishop Earl Paulk, Andy Stanley, Dr. Paul L. Walker, Mylon LeFevre, New Song, Babbie Mason, and many others.
Amazingly, the little church I went to work for decided to throw its hat in the ring. We decided to try and compete with the big boys.
I was hired as a music minister. But I joined a huge staff considering the size of the congregation—Pastor, Christian Education Director, Youth Pastor, Music Minister, and Minister of Recreation (yeah, I know) plus several fulltime and part-time support staff. This was for about 250 people. But the way they pulled this off was the fact that the church and its members were very wealthy. Some were household names that you would recognize. But I said I wouldn’t.
When we came in, it was a dying church. My first choir rehearsal was with 14 people.
Now, beginning there and continuing for many years, I found that it really helps to follow someone who is incompetent. It makes you look good. That goes for pastors too. The new, young pastor who came in and hired me was an amazing “pulpiteer.” In other words, he had a command of the language and a knowledge of the scriptures that mesmerized people. Unfortunately, his organizational skills and his one-on-one people skills sucked.
Due to the fact that the pastor and I followed people who were lacking, plus factor in our youth and exuberance, add the wealth and pride of the congregation, a children’s minister and a business administrator, and the place exploded. Little did I know that this would be my “Saul” experience.

Three Churches

2009-01-04T02:57:00.004-06:00

During the time when we were all reading the subversive materials that Earl Creps (Motto: “With a name like Creps, it’s got to be good.”) recommended to us, we talked at intervals about what we were reading. Finally one day, Pastor Phil said, “You know, I’ve done things this way for almost thirty years. I can’t see me changing everything at this stage of the game. Besides, I love this church and its people. This is home. It’s where I grew up. I just can’t bear the thought of what such a change would do to so many of them.”
I had to agree that it would take a huge paradigm shift and a painful and bloody battle to turn such a big ship at full speed. However, we did think it would be nice to see some different churches and how they operated. Maybe we could tweak things a bit. So, I was given a short sabbatical in the month of June 2004 in order to visit some churches that we thought might be able to teach us something.
I called a couple of friends who are well traveled, told them what we were doing, and asked them where they would recommend that I go. Besides a couple of places locally, we decided to go to three churches: New Life Church in Colorado Springs, Fellowship Church, and Prestonwood Baptist, both in the metro Dallas area. Thus, on two different weekends in June of 2004, my family and I made the trips to Colorado and to Texas to observe and evaluate what we saw and heard.
Now, keep in mind, I was still the associate pastor over music. So, I was primarily going to check out the music programs as well as going to assess the overall church experience. We had very little idea of what to expect. But, each one of the experiences blew our minds.
New Life Church was a well oiled machine. It was big and still growing. They were building their current sanctuary while we were there. The music was great; the preaching was above average. But the two things that impressed me the most were the small group concept and the large umbrella concept under which each of its different congregations operated.
New Life was, at one time, several different congregations meeting at different times with different pastors. Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Saturday nights, and each of the age group churches (youth, young adults, kids) were given equal standing. And, it seemed, that little care was taken to see that they overlapped each other. Whether or not it was that way behind the scenes, was not clear.
Prestonwood Baptist in Plano, Texas was huge! The sanctuary seated thousands. The choir loft alone seated 350 people. That’s twice the size of the average church. Its gargantuan size alone made it worth seeing. But, here again, I saw the multiplicity of ideas at work.
During the Saturday evening service we attended, under the same roof, but far enough away from the main sanctuary and parking lot, there was a wedding taking place in their “small” 400 seat chapel. Other than our curiosity and our roaming after the service, we would never have known that something so significant was going on in another part of this giant edifice.
Finally, we saw Fellowship Church (just seven miles from Prestonwood) in Grapevine, Texas. (Yes, just across the highway from the huge outlet mall.) Its pastor, Ed Young, is something of a celebrity. He writes books and gets asked to speak all over the place. Not many people start a church and within 10 years have 14,000 people. I have no idea how big it is now.
What I saw there that I took home with me was the relevant teaching and the visual message that the whole experience was. It was the first time I had ever been in a church where the two main speakers sat in big leather chairs and had a conversation in front of the whole crowd. Blew my mind.
When I went back to work after three or four weeks, I had a report prepared, but I wasn’t sure who to give it to. I knew we were never going to go there. So what was I supposed to do with all of this mind-blowing information?

“What Do I Do Now?”

2008-12-31T01:15:00.004-06:00

“May I speak with Earl Creps, please?”
“Yes, may I tell him who is calling?”
“Yes, Jeff Taylor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Taylor. Will you hold please?”
“Surely.” (I know. Weird, but that’s what I always say.)
(Pause.)
“This is Earl.”
“Earl, my name is Jeff Taylor. You don’t know me from Adam, but I heard you speak a while back in Branson at the Oklahoma Minister’s Retreat.”
“Yes, Jeff.”
“Earl, I want you to know that I’m totally screwed up now, and I want to know what I’m supposed to do about it.” (Long, silent pause.) Once I realized that he probably thought I was a crank, I hastily added, “And, hey! I mean that in the best possible way. I just need to know what I ought to read or what you would recommend that I do now.”
I could swear that I heard him lightly exhale.
Obviously relieved, he said, “Well I can recommend to you several books and a couple of websites that you might check out…”
We chatted some more. I don’t remember the rest of the conversation. But I do remember the books he recommended, some names he gave me, and at least one of the websites. Since I was new to almost all of this, he led me to resources I could put my hands on that would help explain some of those words and phrases he used in his teaching: Postmodern, post-Christian, emerging church, and others.
From the beginning, I was like a thirsty man desperate for a drink. I couldn’t get enough.
Some who are following the story have asked about the response of others that day. Looking back, I am still astonished by the lack of response to Earl’s message. It was obvious that everyone there realized the truth in what he was saying. However, I was a ticking time bomb, and Earl lit my fuse. No doubt I was waiting for something that would explain the restlessness in my heart since the tornado. So, without realizing it, I was prepared like no one else in the room that day for what he shared.
The staff I was working with at the time was also affected by it. We talked at length. We even read some of the books and talked about how we might integrate the information into our church. I’ll let you in on the progression of that conversation a little bit further on.
I wish I could tell you that the tectonic plates shifted and we immediately made plans to put this new information to work for us and for Tulsa. But we were too steeped in our Modern model, and there were more events to come, some good, some really bad, before a new model would emerge.

Three Chairs

2008-12-28T23:16:00.005-06:00

As a church staff member, we were privileged to be sent to several functions every year that were intended to be valuable to the church’s ministry as well as beneficial to the individual minister. One such function was called “Minister’s Retreat.” It was designed to be a casual time of teaching and fellowship with other ministers.
In 2003, Minister’s Retreat was held in Branson, Missouri. And the special speaker was a man named Earl Creps. I had heard him before in another capacity, so I knew that he was a great communicator. But this time I had no idea what was in store. We had survived a tornado. Would I survive the personal earthquake I was about to experience?
Earl spoke about three chairs. Now there was some other really good stuff, a scripture, a series of alliterative words, and an encouragement to “live and let live.” But the three chairs will always be with me.
In each chair he seated a volunteer: a sixty-something, a forty-something, and a twenty-something—all pastors. Since this was a casual affair and in order to further clarify the illustration, he gave the older man in the first chair a tie, the middle chair man a polo shirt, and the young guy a ball cap. He said that these three pastors corresponded to the three different styles of churches.
The church represented by the man in the tie, he called the traditional church. Maybe not in the same way you might think. Although he said it was usually skewed older—builders primarily—and had its inheritance from the past. He compared this church to the television program “Gunsmoke.” He said that most everything for them was black and white. He also compared them to the church in Jerusalem—the founding church. And, that they believed they would always be the only way to do things. But then they had children.
The church represented by the man in the polo shirt, he called the contemporary church—primarily boomers. He said that 60% of the churches out there fall into this category. He compared it to the television program “Frasier” and to the church at Antioch. He said that these churches were based on models created pragmatically by peers. So whereas the traditional church looked to the past, the contemporary church looks to each other. It is characterized by scripted Sunday morning productions and values similar to the traditional without the wherewithal to live it out.
Finally, Earl came to the third chair. I had no idea where he was going. He began talking about the children of boomers. (I have three of those.) He used terms like emerging church, experimental church, postmodern, and post-Christian. He talked about a generation of the tattooed and the pierced. He said that it was a church characterized by the passion, energy, zeal, and idealism of its people. He compared them to the television show “Seinfeld” and its vacuous existentialism. He also compared it to the church in Spain referred to by Paul in Romans (Romans 15:28) and pointed out that we have no record that Paul ever made it there. But, Earl said that this was the indigenous church of the 21st century.
I had never heard of it.
Listening back to a later version of this talk, I am amazed at how mild and non-threatening the message was. The podcast on Earl’s website was recorded several years after I heard him speak, so he may have tempered it based upon his audience. But when I heard it, it rocked my world.
I went home from Branson and lost sleep and more hair. I didn’t know what to do with the information I had been given, but I knew who would know.
I called Earl.

Don’t Try This at Home

2008-12-28T02:01:00.003-06:00

To say that this was only the beginning is a huge understatement. I found that once you start to ask questions, it’s really hard to stop. There were so many moments after the rebuild when I just couldn’t understand the whys. Why do we do what we do? Why do churches and their people expect what they expect and therefore demand what they demand? Let me hasten to say, this wasn’t about scurrilous people or evil intentions. It was about the system that we all inherited.
I mean, where did we get the idea that we needed a professional to do our preaching, praying, teaching, singing, caring, giving, helping, hoping, connecting and communicating with God? The scripture says very distinctly that there is only one mediator between us and God (1Timothy 2:5). In fact, we believed and taught the concept of the priesthood of every believer (1 Peter 2:9, Revelation 5:10). But what we did spoke so loudly that no one could hear what we were saying.
Like bad parents, we said one thing and did another. We were like, “Look, it’s easier if I just do it myself. You just sit there and watch me.” Or like a television program full of life-threatening stunts, “Don’t try this at home. We’re trained professionals.” Why are we surprised when that’s exactly what happens?
For about four years the church hosted and I headed a ministerial training program required by our denomination for credentialing. It was quite extensive—four years of work, more than thirty different classes. And although I tried to secure enough teachers for each trimester, I often got the privilege of teaching one or more classes each time. One of my favorites, one that became a bit of a diversion, was the subject of church history. I was fascinated with it.
Here’s the kicker. Once I had been through the destruction of a tornado and the questions that went with it, my understanding of church history became skewed to the point of confusion. But I wasn’t confused about the history. I was confused about what we had chosen to do with the knowledge we had.
In my own tradition, I couldn’t see the New Testament pattern for pulpits, platforms, thrones, and reserved parking places which you can find in virtually every church. In other traditions, I couldn’t comprehend the spiritual significance of rituals, robes, confessionals, and funny hats. It seemed to me that Jesus had provided a replacement for all of that—himself.
Then one day, as if I needed “fuel on my fire,” I met up with a guy I had heard speak before. His name is Earl Creps. This man changed my life forever.

Business as Usual

2008-12-23T00:59:00.003-06:00

We had a ton to be excited about. We had survived the tornado. Our square footage was twice what it had been before the destruction. And in spite of what the “experts” had told us, we were debt free. Plus we had grown from a church of about 450-500 to more than 800 and were still growing. It was heady stuff.
People would ask us, “What is the secret to your success?”
All we could say was, “Okay, you start with a tornado…”
We didn’t have a clue.
Most of you probably don’t know this, but when “preachers” get together—and when they don’t—they talk to and about each other. Sometimes they like to act like they’re happy for your success. (They may be.) But they also ask goofy questions like, “How many you runnin’, Doc?” It’s a question about church attendance, which translated means: “Tell me you’re not doing better than I am!” Followed by the moniker “Doc” which translated means, “You and I both know you don’t have a real doctorate, but in case you earned one when I wasn’t looking I’m sure it’s not the kind that helps people.”
Anyway, when you’ve had explosive growth, humility is important. Especially when you don’t have a clue what caused it. The news of our success was about as welcome to the preacher party as a hooker.
But success is a blessing and a curse. Here’s what we found out. It takes a bunch of effort to meet the expectations of 800 people. And it takes a lot of staff. And it takes a bundle of “ministries” and programs. And, it doesn’t take long to become totally exhausted.
Here’s a little something I’ve discovered. I’ve discovered that when I’m exhausted, I have a tendency to begin to contemplate the cause of my exhaustion. Something like this:
“What in the world am I doing?”
What I was doing was what was expected of me, or so I thought. Was I trying to compete with other churches our size? Was I trying to grow the church through my own effort? Nobody had asked me to do it. I just didn’t know any other way. It seemed it was just “business as usual” in the modern church.
But it wasn’t long before I began to question “business as usual.”
All of the church growth materials we had read instructed us to create vision and mission statements, something we had never done. Now I understand why that is necessary. When you hit the wall, it really helps to know why you’re killing yourself. In other words, when you know your purpose, it puts everything into perspective. I can survive almost anything if my purpose is important enough.
It was not.
In fact, I don’t think I knew what my purpose was. We never got around to writing down, let alone publishing our vision. So, whatever mission I had made up in my own head was not worth this. This wasn’t “mission impossible.” It was mission imperceptible. The best I could figure, our reason for being, my reason for working 6 and 7 days a week was to perpetuate the machine.
That was not enough.

Long Range Plans

2008-12-21T16:17:00.004-06:00

Part of the process of deciding to rebuild and committing to stay on the same property was drawing up plans that would maximize the potential of those 10+ acres upon which Carbondale sits. Given the land we had, what is the largest size to which we could grow there? As the ideas were developed, our architect sketched out a three-phase plan.
The first phase was for the short term. This would answer the question: What will get us operating on that property again in the shortest amount of time? The second phase was a medium range plan that would get us up to the larger, more expanded size that we felt we needed as soon as we could afford it. And the third phase was the long range plan. It was the plan to construct as much building footprint, with the required adjoining parking, plus whatever infrastructure necessary in order to maximize the property.
The long range plan would include a new “sanctuary.” And that would determine just how big we could get without buying more property. Early on, it was discovered that we could likely build between a 1,200 and a 1,500 seat sanctuary and the accompanying meeting rooms, office space, and parking on that land.
Plus, we got the privilege of building a retention pond for about $85,000. This was made a requirement by the city and was officially called a “privately funded public improvement” or PFPI. In other words, we got to pay for fixing the city’s problem with drainage in our neighborhood. You can drive by and see that lovely monstrosity today. It was built before almost anything else.
This may be more than you need to know, unless you plan to build anything within the Tulsa city limits. Then it’s good stuff to hear. But here’s some more advice to go along with the above. We learned that you can fight City Hall. But you will lose.
Eventually we decided to opt for phases one and two, immediately. What’s an extra two million dollars among friends? But the third phase, the long range plan is still in the works even today.
Once the rebuild was finished and we had moved back onto the property, the details of the third phase started to take shape. We continued to meet with the architects, Paul Meyer and Gary Armbruster of Meyer Architects in Oklahoma City.
One night in the middle of all of this “long range” planning, I could not sleep. I tried everything. I tossed and turned—more like: flopped like a fish. I gave up, more than once, got up and read thinking that would make me sleepy. When that didn’t work, I tried reading the “begats” of the Old Testament. Even that didn’t work. I tried praying, begging God to kill me, tell me what he wanted, or let me sleep.
I finally decided that God was trying to get my attention.
“C’mon, God!” I pleaded. “All my friends get these elaborate dreams with deep meaning and obvious application to their current circumstances. Why can’t you do that for me? At least I would get to sleep!”
But no, not for me. Beside the fact that all my dreams are stupid, I finally surmised this was supposed to be some kind of direct encounter. I’m a little dense at times. At last, I gave in.
“Okay, God. What is it you want to tell me?”
Now, you would think that would be all the capitulation that God would need. And that he would just spit it out. I mean, believe me, I was all ears. But no. We were only half way through the night. And this was going to take all night.
I began my humble contrition by kneeling in the den by the couch upon which I had been sitting to read. No need to bother Vicki any more than I already had. She had mostly slept through my flopping anyway. I stopped begging and just shut up. Although, every now and then my brain would involuntarily scream, “What?!” In the deafening silence, I was trying to find a comfortable position from which I could hear the voice of God. In the process, I tried every position in the Yoga book and a few others I made up. Finally I ended up on my knees with my back arched over and the top of my head on the floor like a contortionist Muslim praying toward Mecca hell.
I wish I could tell you that I emerged from that horrible night with a lovely, illuminating, and Divine Word. I wish I could tell you that after that night everything changed. But none of that happened. However, while waiting to hear something really important, I couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid “long range plan.”
Specifically, the phrase that kept coming back to me was, “What will the church look like in 10 to 20 years?” So, I kept straining like a constipated man to come up with an answer to that question. And the only answer I could come up with was formulated out of the context in which we were already operating.
“Perhaps we ought to build something more like a theatre instead of a church sanctuary,” I thought. This was in keeping with our new emphasis on music and elaborate productions. So I envisioned a full production stage with fly-in scenery walls, multiple curtains, catwalks, and a sophisticated array of sound and lights. I even dreamed of an orchestra pit on hydraulics that would raise and lower into a basement rehearsal room. Some of those ideas actually got incorporated into the new sanctuary plans.
It never occurred to me back then that it was the question. The question was all I was supposed to take with me that night. I almost developed an aneurism trying to come up with an answer. But my answer was not the point. It would still be several more years before I would ask that question in a different context.
What will the church look like in 10 to 20 years?

No Real Change

2008-12-20T02:35:00.004-06:00

During our exile we did a lot of soul searching. We asked tons of questions. We visited other churches. We read books—on leadership and church growth. We were scouring the landscape of our Christian subculture for a new way to approach “doing church.”
I wish I could tell you that the tornado provided us with a complete paradigm shift. It didn’t. Look, we learned a lot. It was an incredible leap of faith to more than double the square footage of the previous facility. It took a real miracle to emerge 20 months later debt free. (The fundraising “experts” told us it was impossible.) In our wildest dreams we couldn’t have imagined growing in numbers while in the wilderness. But in the end, we opted for…let’s call it continuity.
It’s not like we didn’t make some changes; we did. We updated our “look.” We did away with pews and hymnals. But the changes we made—to our facility and to our focus—were more about doing what we were already doing, only better. That and, we made a determined effort to center on our strengths: especially excelling at hospitality, preaching, and music.
Finally, the toil and the perseverance paid off. We were going back. The first service in the new building was electric. There were people everywhere. It was so promising that we started a second Sunday morning service the next week. In a very short period of time we doubled in numbers.
So the legend and the legacy of the tornado were stated as “the best thing that had ever happened.” And Carbondale became the phoenix that arose from the ashes (or the piles of twisted metal as it were).
I don’t mean to sound cynical or to take away from the success that we had. But after a bunch of years of working in churches, and after what I had read and what we had experienced, it seemed to me that church growth was more about good marketing to and recycling of dissatisfied “saints.” In fact, we benefited greatly from the demise or decline of some other churches. That was good timing. I mean you hate to grow for that reason, but we didn’t turn them away.
I didn’t know another option, but my perspective would be forever marred by this. It was obvious that the Church—the universal, big “C” Church—was not really growing at all. At least not in Tulsa. And if Tulsa was any indication, not in America either. But our church—little “c” church—was. I became less and less okay with that. I didn’t know what to do about it, but the seeds of discontent, disillusionment, and deconstruction were already planted in my little brain.

Living in Exile

2008-12-19T08:52:00.005-06:00

The next 20 months were our 40 years of wandering in the desert. And yes, we were often wondering while we were wandering—wondering what was next. I attended more meetings during that time than in all my previous life put together. We had meetings with the insurance people. We had meetings with architects. We had meetings with city employees and local television news crews. We even had meetings to prepare for our next meeting.
One of the first things anyone wants to know after a disaster is: “Are we insured?” We were. However, we found out pretty quickly that we were grossly underinsured. Just to rebuild what was destroyed was going to cost far more than our total coverage. And getting a check cut for the full amount meant that we would have to prove how much our losses were. So, we all donned masks, grabbed a micro-cassette recorder, walked back into the deteriorating building, and began verbally inventorying everything in the place except the mold. Mold was growing exponentially while we were discussing the future.
After some more meetings, it became apparent that rebuilding only what was there before was unacceptable. Prior to the tornado we had already started having meetings on how to expand our footprint. We badly needed more space.
And, here’s another thing we learned in a meeting. Did you know that you have to get a permit to tear something down? Even if it’s already a pile of rubble? Even if it’s a giant petri dish threatening to overtake the world with mold spores? That seemed to me to be unusually cruel. Demolition couldn’t even start without cash and the approval of an overpaid city bureaucrat.
In the days ahead, we would meet as a staff and reevaluate everything. It was going to be a long time before we could rebuild and move back home. It was going to be a while before we even knew what we were going to build. So we had to figure out how to make the most of our exile. There would be no “business as usual.”
Immediately we felt like we were starting over. We were literally working from the ground up. So we asked hard questions beginning with, should we rebuild? We honestly asked that question, of God and to one another. Then, if we do rebuild, do we stay on the current property? What do you have to have to be a church? Do you even have to have a building? Do you have to do Sunday school? What is “Christian Education?”
The questions kept coming. Is it necessary to have separate meeting places for adults and youth and children and babies? (Babies, definitely babies.) And what if we don’t have those luxuries? If we can’t do everything we were doing, will everybody leave and go somewhere else? Were our “programs” holding the church together?
The tornado that destroyed the building created a storm in our souls that blew “normal” completely off of our map.

Coming Home

2008-12-18T14:01:00.004-06:00

By the time my plane landed in Tulsa on Wednesday evening, a temporary home for our church had already been established. Pastor Billy Joe Daugherty of Tulsa’s Victory Christian Center had shown up at Pastor Phil’s house early on Tuesday and offered the use of Victory Bible Institute (VBI) for the duration of our banishment. The insurance man and a builder or two were also there that morning. Everyone decided that it could be as many as 18 months before the destruction could be reversed. (It would take 20.) But, Pastor Daugherty didn’t flinch.
Vicki and the girls picked me up at the airport and drove us directly to VBI, our new, albeit temporary, locale. When we arrived, the regular Wednesday night service was already in progress. Of course there was nothing regular about it. Everyone—adults, youth, children, and babies—was gathered in the large auditorium. Pastor was in the middle of giving comforting words and a preliminary explanation of how we were going to proceed in the days to come. We had been abruptly evicted from our home. And as appreciative as we were to have a place to meet less than 48 hours after the storm, this was not home.
As Vicki, the girls, and I walked hand-in-hand into the meeting, the congregation stood and applauded. Having done nothing to deserve such a greeting, we understood the ovation as a show of support, not just for us, but also for the men who had remained behind to complete the job in the Dominican Republic. It was like that moment on Thanksgiving Day when your cousins that you haven’t seen in a while finally show up at Grandma’s house. We were all just glad to be together.
That night and in the first few days afterward, everyone put up a tough, positive, unified front. But inside all of us were scared. Our world had been shaken. And none of us had any idea how this would play out. Personally, I had no clue that this was only the beginning for me.
The next morning I had the opportunity to see what was left in the tornado’s wake. In spite of the descriptions I had heard, I could not possibly have imagined the devastation that remained where our building had once stood. It was horrifying. The second floor was without ceiling or walls. The nursery sported a new open air skylight, and the property was strewn with piles of twisted metal and broken glass. Only the sanctuary and the gymnasium survived.
In addition to the church building, thousands of dollars of damage had been done to our home which was on the same property. My family spent the first few nights after the tornado in a hotel room while repairs were begun. Even though the house had avoided a direct hit, there was significant work to be done. For example, pressure from the tornado’s proximity caused damage to my aluminum garage door that looked like a baby elephant had been trapped inside and had repeatedly crashed into it trying to get out. As a result, one of our cars was trapped in the garage while the other one received a $10,000 pounding from the storm.
The next few days we tried to salvage our personal possessions and whatever documents and equipment we would need in order to carry on. That may sound easy. It wasn’t. With only days to ponder our future, we had to prioritize what we got out of a rapidly deteriorating building. Then a disaster restoration company came in to rescue everything that was salvageable. But anything they took to inventory and store would not be available again until we rebuilt.
What a mess!

The Dominican Trip

2008-12-17T00:20:00.001-06:00

Go back a couple of days before the tornado. In fact, go back further than that. Go back a little over seven months. In late September, 1998, hurricane Georges hit the Caribbean, causing hundreds of deaths and billions of dollars worth of damage. Ten countries were adversely affected—more than any hurricane in over thirty years. For example, in the Dominican Republic, dozens of churches were destroyed along with the homes of hundreds of people. It was a mission to help them rebuild that small country that caused me to miss all of the excitement in Tulsa on that eventful evening in May of ’99.
Although I was the assistant pastor of my home church, I was just one of the guys on a work trip to help the Dominicans. Fourteen of us left that weekend—days before the tornado—to spend a week helping to reconstruct churches destroyed by hurricane Georges. It is ironic that while on that mission our own church’s building would be destroyed by an Oklahoma tornado. God or Mother Nature or Fate or somebody with a capital letter name has a rather odd sense of humor.
We put in one whole day of work on that Monday. Having split into different crews, some of us were mixing concrete, some were laying block walls, some were setting rebar to strengthen the walls against future storms, and some of us were simply gofers. I tried my hand at a little bit of everything. Every job was important and every one of them was really hard work. And it was hot. By the time the first day of work ended, we were all exhausted and ready for bed.
When I woke up the next morning, every muscle in my body was aching. I have worked many jobs over the years that required hard, physical labor. I just hadn’t done much lately. My lily-white hands were grateful for the cheap cotton gloves I had worn the day before. No doubt, they saved me from some ugly blisters. Despite the pain, I was ready for our second day. Little did I know what had happened back home in the middle of the night.
At midday on Tuesday, May 4th, I was on a water break talking to our mission leader Ric Shields when his phone rang. (Did I mention it was hot?) Thinking it was the probably the local missionary calling, I turned to go back to work. Seconds later, Ric called me back over. The call was from home, and he proceeded to tell me what had happened the night before to my family, to our home, and to our church building.
He informed me that the church had been badly damaged and that our home—a church-owned parsonage—had been damaged badly enough to displace my family. I would be heading home the next day; the arrangements had already been made. The rest of the team would stay behind to complete the mission. But, my family and the church needed me back in Tulsa. And although I finished the day, I was anxious—anxious about leaving everyone else behind, about the trip home, and about what I might find when I got there.

It Started with a Tornado

2008-12-16T12:18:00.002-06:00

Whitney was ticked. Her mom had cried wolf so many times before, she was certain that the storm would pass without a tornado. She had never even seen one. So why did she have to climb down these stairs some 20 feet below the church’s sanctuary for a stupid false alarm? She was certain that she was the only 15 year old in the city being subjected to this.

To prove her disgust she found a place to sit on some old ceiling tiles away from the others. How her mom had sucked the youth pastor and his family into her nightmare she didn’t know. But she wouldn’t have to wonder very long.

Whitney, along with her two sisters Emily and Natalie, had taken refuge underground with their mom Vicki Taylor—my wife and three daughters. Joining them were Darryl and Faith Wootton and their daughter Lindsay. It was Monday night, May the third, 1999, and a huge storm, which had already left death and devastation in its path, was roaring up the I-44 turnpike toward West Tulsa.

My wife Vicki had already heard the reports of destruction south of Oklahoma City. She had even seen video clips of the toothpicks that had once been the bedroom community of Moore. Halfway between Tulsa and Oklahoma City, the Tanger Outlet Mall in Stroud was also left in shambles. They were not taking any chances.

Mom’s phone rang.

“Hello!”
“Yeah, Susan, we’re in the basement of the church.”
“Okay, we’ll stay right here until we hear otherwise.”

The call had come from a family friend whose husband was the prominent local weatherman. Chief meteorologist Travis Meyer and his team at KTUL, the ABC affiliate, were tracking the storms. Without alarming them, Susan wanted to make sure they were safe. She knew what was coming. Her husband and his people just down the road at the top of Lookout Mountain were taking cover themselves.

To ease their own tension, the adults tried to make casual conversation. But the talking was interrupted by an ominous radio prediction. It was Travis.

“Take cover, now!”

Then, suddenly, Whitney’s frustration turned to fear. The lights went out and the door to the basement started to vibrate violently. It only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed like forever. It was as though the air was being sucked out of the room. And the darkness was absolute. Now she regretted being across the room from everyone else. She couldn’t remember ever knowing blackness this black.

2008-11-06T23:17:00.000-06:00

Post No. 1 is all about layout.