Yesterday I attended the first of six “Discovering our church” classes at the congregation I’ve decided to join here in Nashville.
During the informative session, led by the the connections pastor, we learned about the history of the congregation, how to reach the elders, upcoming small group opportunities, and many other items of interest to new and prospective members.
Despite all this informativeness, I was surprised by what wasn’t included. About halfway through the hour, a woman in the third row raised her hand and asked what the church believed about music in worship (this is a non-instrumental church of Christ), the role of women in leadership, and affiliation with other churches. As the leader responded to these questions the subject quickly broadened into a discussion of the churches of Christ, how they are different from other denominations, and who makes the decisions about these issues.
Although the leader did an adequate job of pointing to Scripture as the final authority, and although one of the elders competently shared the church stance on the specific questions as well as the broader philosophy of elder leadership, I was amazed at their amazement that these questions came up (and, incidentally, dominated the rest of the class).
In this age of denominational conflict and theological questioning, people want to know more than classroom locations and meeting times—they want to know “what kind of church is this?” with honesty and a minimum of rhetoric. Restoration Movement churches have unique and refreshing answers to these questions (and a great resource in Standard’s brochure of the same name) and it’s too bad my new church missed its first opportunity to share those answers with an obviously-interested audience.
I emailed the pastor today and shared a link to the brochure as well as encouragement for her thoughtful facilitation of our first session. Yep, she’s a woman—this local body and its group of elders have prayerfully concluded women can hold some leadership positions. This autonomy is a wonderful part of our heritage—I hope the church begins communicating it more effectively.
The Christian churches have never been big on observing Lent, or the church calendar in general, so I grew up with little to contribute in discussions with friends about what we planned to go without during the Lenten season. I was in college before I saw someone actually walking through Ash Wednesday with ashes on their forehead, or made the connection to the bacchanalia of Mardi Gras the night before.
Although I still attend a church that focuses little attention on these holy days (except Easter, and the almighty Christmas—that one seems to be remembered each year), I have started to be aware of them. The cycles of Advent, Epiphany, Lent, and Pentecost lend a comforting spiritual rhythm to the year; even more importantly, they have the potential to refocus us on Christ in between the “big” holidays.
Still, I’d never considered actually giving something up for Lent. Remembering the cross, yes. Trying to be more reflective and contemplative in the weeks leading up to Easter, sure, okay.
But actually forgoing a regular treat as if it in any way approached Jesus’ sacrifice for us? Thinking my abstinence from candy or coffee even mattered to him? Truth be told, I always found it a little silly and self-important.
So I’m as astonished as anyone that this year I plan to observe Lent by giving up TV and movies.
A few days ago the notion popped into my head as I watched a Seinfeld rerun with one eye and lamented my unread list of “edifying” books with the other. Irony is fun.
Coincidentally or not, the same day I came across a website of prayers and reflections for each day of Lent (click here) that also piqued my interest. An idea was born: no TV, no DVDs, not even a sitcom on iTunes from Ash Wednesday through Easter Sunday. My one concession would be the Oscars (assuming they air) on February 24th—a reasonable compromise, I think, given that the historical calendar doesn’t include Sundays when calculating the 40+ days of Lent.
(And lest you think this doesn’t count because of the writers’ strike, let me remind you that new episodes of LOST begin next week and will continue throughout February and March. So scoff not.)
This little “sacrifice” isn’t about equaling Jesus’ sacrifice, of course. As for whether my 46 days without TV “matter” to God, a myriad of Bible passages teach us anything can be done (or not done) to God’s glory if the heart is right. Putting a check in the offering plate or reading my 3.2 Bible chapters each day can be meaningless routine or intentional obedience. Likewise, the self-imposed deprivation of Lent can be the legalistic restriction so many “Christians-only” see it as, or it can be a quiet act of worship.
I’m going for the latter with Lent this year. And really looking forward to catching up on LOST after Easter.
In addition to sharing the latest news from our ministries, brainstorming topics and authors for future issues, and generally having a great time being together, the Christian Standard contributing editors also participated in a significant discussion of social justice during their meeting earlier this week.
The hours-long, far-ranging conversation was sparked by a presentation from Doug Priest, Executive Director of Christian Missionary Fellowship and a new member of the team. He pointed out that, demographically speaking, the “average Christian” lives south of the equator. The people in this area are marginalized and powerless, and the churches are poor.
“Since theology arises out of the human context of its adherents,” Doug shared, “and since that context is now the majority world, Christian theology will increasingly focus on the issues of wealth and poverty, injustice and oppression, over-population, pluralism, and the environment as well as evangelism and church planting.”
Our team discussed the evolving evangelical response to such problems: at first, churches focused on social action or evangelism. Slowly they moved to a position of evangelism primary and social action secondary. Today, churches are growing toward a more holistic understanding with evangelism in a place of ultimacy—ultimately, evangelism must happen but involvement in many areas and engagement with a variety of issues can be the entrance point.
Because I’ve sometimes wondered what my afternoon building houses with Habitat for Humanity or my semester tutoring fourth-graders has to do with advancing the kingdom of God, I appreciate this perspective. And because I routinely become irritated with those who equate care for our planet and its poor as being “liberal,” I especially appreciated Doug’s comment that “concerns for peace, environmental action, human rights, liberation, material welfare, health, hunger, HIV/AIDS and host of other problems fall within the scope of mission, if indeed mission is concerned with the bringing of the abundant life for which Jesus came.”
What do you think—are you threatened by Christianity’s center shifting to the southern hemisphere? Are “externally focused” church programs and community service initiatives a way to ultimately share the Gospel and reach unbelievers, or are they nice things without real “results?” What’s the scorecard for ministry effectiveness? And what is the church called to do, here and overseas, for those living in poverty, walking through rivers of sewage, and selling their bodies for food?
On the edge
Each year, the Edge Foundation, a nonprofit organization created to “promote inquiry into and discussion of intellectual, philosophical, artistic and literary issues” poses a thought-provoking question in its World Question Center.
The questions, which the BBC describes as “the crack cocaine of the thinking world,” really do prompt serious reflection and, at times, even soul-searching. They would be ideal conversation starters around the dinner table, at the beginning of a small group, or during a long roadtrip.
If you want to read all the questions and answers, you can find them here, but good luck; hundreds of contributors write essays short and long (mostly long) in response to each annual question.
Instead, I’m interested in your answers, so with the previous three paragraphs having given appropriate credit to the original, I’ll occasionally copy one of the questions here and invite your response. Here’s the first one, from this year’s edition: What have you changed your mind about? Why?
A poem for Epiphany
Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot
‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
And all this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
golden age
I enjoyed Christmas in Cincinnati for many reasons this year: Geoff and Lisa drove in from New York, my mom cooked amazing meals, and Frankie the puppy only peed on the carpet two times. All in all, a successful holiday.
But one of my favorite parts of the week was visiting my friend Mildred. This 91-year-old lady, along with her daughter and son-in-law and grandchildren, has become a dear friend who often shares our Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas Eve dinner. This year a bout with bronchitis and a brief hospital stay left her too worn out to celebrate in our home, so I traveled to hers.
I planned to stay for just an hour or so and leave before she felt too tired. Instead she served me cookies and punch, shared her life story (at my request), and brushed away my offer to let her rest after 90 minutes. “I’m fine,” she said. “Stay put.”
I’ll be the first to admit older people sometimes drive me crazy, for all the stereotypical reasons. But like all prejudices, “ageism” dissolves when it encounters an individual. In our three hours of talking and laughing, I found Mildred engaging, funny, and full of quiet strength. As she described her childhood, her years working as the head cook for a hospital, her bout with measles, her ruptured eardrums as a result, and her two husbands and their deaths, I did not consider her age—just her insight.
The Elder Wisdom Circle, an online community of senior adults who voluntarily answer letters and provide advice to 20 and 30-somethings, proves I’m not alone in craving this kind of guidance. The hard-won perspective of the EWC’s men and women shines through in their responses: “It is never too late to take another look at your choices,” writes one to a young man facing career changes. “Remember that nothing worth doing is easy.”
“You really cannot persuade someone who doesn’t want to be persuaded, and you also cannot change another person,” writes another to parents concerned about their daughter’s choice of a mate.
I love the idea of connecting the generations online, but I won’t be writing the Wisdom Circle—I have Mildred, and I’m already looking forward to our next visit. If he masters bladder control anytime soon, I may even bring Frankie.
Jennifer Taylor
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