Sunday Lunch

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?

Church Fail (Nanny State)

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

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

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.

Everything Changes

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

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

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?

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 “Saul” Experience

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.