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.

Contextualize the Message, Part 3

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.

Not Your Grandpa’s Church

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

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.

Business as Usual

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.