Archives for category: church

Have you seen this ad? It is one of the popular series of Apple commercials touting the advantages of Macs over PCs. You can even find some church-related parodies of this ad, which are sure to spark some kind of discussion (I’ll save my thoughts on this for another time). In any case, when we purchased the laptops we use for church a couple of months ago, they came preloaded with tons of nonsensical trial software. If the goal of these companies was to harass customers and obstruct productivity, then job well done!

Fortunately, a church member recently offered to give our computers a nice little tune-up last week. In addition to receiving a much smoother-running computer, I experienced another corollary benefit: being without a computer left me with time to catch up on some reading.

I was able to finish Serve God, Save the Planet by J. Matthew Sleeth and most of This Beautiful Mess by Rick McKinley. For now, I wanted to share my thoughts about The Search to Belong, by Joseph Myers.

This book came to me recommended by Marko and, after finishing it, I can see why. As the subtitle of this book suggests, Myers wants us to reconsider some of our preconceived notions about intimacy, community and small groups. I have struggled with the way we often approach small group ministry — both as a member of such groups and, later, as a pastor trying to build community. As a member, I have often felt guilty for not sharing enough with the group; that, somehow, I let down the other group members by not spilling my guts every time. As a leader, I have felt disappointed in the failure of our small group ministries to yield success (deep connection! church growth! powerful community!).

Myers offers a welcome alternative to understanding what it means to belong. He expands our understanding of belonging by connecting Edward Hall’s idea of proxemics — “the study of how physical space influences culture and communications” — to building community in our churches. Hall identifies four different spaces in which people interact: public, social, personal and intimate. Myers argues that instead of trying to push people along the intimacy spectrum, churches must recognize that all four spaces are valid, important and necessary for building genuine community. As he writes:

We tend to think of intimacy as the “Mecca” of relationship. But would all relationships be better if they were intimate? Think of all the relationships in your life, from bank teller to sister to coworker to spouse. Could we adequately sustain all these relationships if they were intimate?

All belonging is significant. Healthy community — the goal humankind has sought since the beginning — is achieved when we hold harmonious connections within all four spaces.

It might sound like heresy in the contemporary church to argue that small groups are not the only way to build community, but Myers builds a compelling case for this idea. He writes about one pastor who led a church with a respected and successful small group ministry who confessed, “My small groups don’t really work. They never have. To be honest, I don’t think they’re for everyone. In fact, I have never attended a small group nor wanted to attend one.” It’s hard for me to describe the relief I felt after reading that quote — I’m not alone!

But this work is not an attack on small group ministry. Rather, it is a calling for churches to create environments where people can connect in many different ways. Myers posits, “If we would concentrate upon facilitating the environment instead of the result (people experiencing community), we might see healthy, spontaneous community emerge.”

Towards the end of the book, in the chapter called “Searching for a Front Porch,” Myers argues that churches should create “median spaces” that act as a symbolic front porch for people. He quotes Scott Cook, who says the front porch is “the zone between the public and private, an area that could be shared between the sanctity of the home and the community outside.” Now, I must admit that I am leery of writers who wax nostalgic about The Andy Griffith Show, as that has never been a meaningful cultural touchstone for me and often signifies a desire for a homogeneous white society. However, this is an important discussion — the disappearance of front porches from the architecture of most newly constructed neighborhoods mirrors the increasing privatization and individualization of American culture. In the current climate, churches can act as a “third place” (a location that is neither work nor home that provides community).

Myers devotes his final chapter to a dialogue (ah, postmodernism) between himself and a church leader who wants to put these principles into practice. I often find myself wanting to skip ahead to the take-away or transferable but, for me, the more useful part of this book dealt with the conceptual framework of understanding community. One potential concern: People often have a tendency to self-select into groups where everyone looks the same — without thoughtful and skillful leadership, emphasizing spontaneous relationships could end up feeding our highly individualized preferences rather than building loving, sacrificial communities.

This is a worthwhile book, perhaps even for the first chapter (“The Myths of Belonging”) alone. The Search to Belong provides eye-opening and thought-provoking insights into the difficult task of building community.

Reconciliation Blues by Edward Gilbreath achieves something more powerful than mere “balance” in addressing issues of race and reconciliation within the American evangelical church. [ht to DJ for highlighting this book on his blog]  Gilbreath confronts the reality of racism in the American church (whether those in the majority culture choose to acknowledge it or not) with dignity and strength, while also offers a compelling vision for reconciliation — a rare feat in this polarized age of sound bites and pundits.

Gilbreath is interested in much more than simply “playing the race card” or doing a Geraldo-style undercover expose of how African American people get hassled at the mall (although this is still a shameful reality in our nation).  In the prologue, Gilbreath introduces macro ideas about racism, “For many people, ‘institutional racism’ is now the term invoked to describe the unnamable brand of discrimination we experience today… sociologist James Jones provided the most concise definition in his book Prejudice and Racism when he described it as ‘those established laws, customs, and practices which systematically reflect and produce racial inequities in American society.'”

Perhaps taking a cue from chic-onomics tomes such as Freakonomics and The World is Flat, Gilbreath peppers his big-picture take on race, faith and reconciliation with a variety of powerful anecdotes throughout the book.  I had to read this particular passage several times — I was at once outraged and stunned that such a thing actually happened in our nation’s recent past:

As Dolphus (Weary, national speaker and executive director of Mission Mississippi) left the library on April 4, 1968, a white student approached him and said, “Did you hear? Martin Luther King got shot.”

“I remember running to my room, flipping on the radio and listening to the news report,” he recalls. A rifle bullet had ripped into King’s neck as he stood on a motel balcony in Memphis, Tennessee.  The civil rights leader was rushed to a hospital in serious condition. “I was devastated,” Dolphus says.

As he sat on his bed holding back the tears, he could hear the voices down the hall: white students talking about King’s shooting. but Dolphus quickly realized that they were not just talking; they were laughing.

“I couldn’t understand what I was hearing,” he says. “These Christian kids were glad that Dr. King — my hero — had been shot. I wanted to run out there and confront them.” Instead, he steeled his nerves and lay prostrate on his bed. Finally, as the newscaster delivered the awful update — “Martin Luther King has died in a Memphis hospital” — Dolphus could hear the white voices down the hall let out a cheer.”

I can barely type out these words without feeling my heart both ache and begin to boil over.  But this is where the power of this book becomes clear.  If we are to move forward into genuine reconciliation, then we must honestly address the ugliness of both personal prejudice and systemic racism. Otherwise, we achieve little more than photo-ops and temporary guilt relief.

As an insider for many years in “white” evangelical Christian circles, Gilbreath has a unique ability to shed light on something many white Christians may have never considered.  Though they might not be perpetrators of hate crimes, many of these well-meaning people do not realize that the white, male, Western perspective on Christianity is not normative for all believers. In fact, that very worldview has often been the reason the church has shamefully lagged behind the world in terms of race.  About his life within the white evangelical world, Gilbreath writes:

But it has also meant living within a religious movement that takes for granted its cultural superiority. It has meant disregarding the occasional stray epithet or ingoring shortsighted comments that beg for a retort. You’ve heard them, perhaps said them: “I don’t even think of you as black,” or “Why do black people need to have their own beauty pageants and magazines and colleges? If whites did that, we’d be called racists.”

If, by chance, you found yourself saying “Yeah, why do they need all that stuff?” I highly recommend that you read this book, along with Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Daniel Tatum.

Gilbreath acknowledges the difficulty of moving toward reconciliation, sharing personal stories with candor. And yet his voice remains hopeful throughout the book — not a false cheer that turns a blind eye to racism and prejudice, but one that confronts its paralyzing effects with the Gospel of Christ for all nations.  He shares examples of real church communities who are working through these issues together, including both successes and failures. I am particularly thankful for Chapter Ten, “The ‘Other’ Others,” in which Gilbreath thoughtfully addresses issues that other racial/ethnic cultures face in the American church — including Native American, Latino and Asian Christians.  Even without this chapter, I would have heartily endorsed this book — its inclusion only deepens my respect for the author.

I hope this important book makes it into the hands (and hearts and minds) of many readers, especially those who might not ordinarily be inclined to take on issues of race and reconciliation.

Today’s Christian magazine, a publication of Christianity Today, just published this interview with Soong-Chan Rah entitled, “Speaking Up for Asian Americans.” [h/t to DJ for the heads-up on this interview]

In the interview, Soong-Chan gives a brief overview of the recent Youth Specialties/Skit Guys controversy and the LifeWay Rickshaw Rally debacle. More importantly, he is able to discuss some of the larger, underlying issues regarding race, faith and the church. For example:

Why do you think this type of incident happens in Christian circles?

We’ve simplified issues of race so much in the American church that we fail to see some elements, some larger issues of race. It’s not just individual prejudice, but larger racial injustice. Sometimes, these are issues we don’t talk about in the Christian community. American society is changing; there are more non-whites. Yet in leadership, those writing and reviewing Christian books still tend to come from the white community. It limits the point of view.

We assume if we’re Christians, we are all the same, equal. That’s not the way life operates.

Though many of us are probably going through a bit of “Skit Guys” burnout, I am glad to see that the larger issues at play here are still being discussed. It would be too easy to say we’re sorry, make nice and then pretend like nothing ever happened. Sort of like those “last night of the big retreat” testimony times where one sibling tearfully apologizes to the other for using a shovel to bash in the other’s nose and then, upon returning home, immediately reengages the same lifestyle patterns. Reconciliation is slower than we’d like, most costly than we might imagine and messier than we plan, but can we pursue anything else?

Because of DJ’s glowing review, I am hoping to pick up went out and picked up Reconciliation Blues by Edward Gilbreath in the near future today. I am encouraged to see, both in his book and on his blog, that Edward has raised in voice in support of the Asian American community. So often, we treat racial reconciliation as a zero-sum proposition — if one racial ethnic group advances, it must be at the expense of another. During my seminary days, there was a series of ugly racial incidents. Most involved African American students, but one was directed at an Asian American student. During the ensuing fallout, I remember feeling that the Asian American incident was lost in the shuffle. Looking back on it, I realize that this was due to the lack of participation of Asian American voices — not the strength of other voices. I don’t know if we were too wrapped up in balancing studies and ministry, or if we gave into apathy, but in the end we abdicated responsibility for justice and reconciliation to others. This could have been a powerful witness of solidarity with our African American sisters & brothers, as well as speaking out on behalf of our own community.

That’s why I am also challenged by Edward’s post linking to the aforementioned article. While it is a significant step for us no longer to play the role of the quiet, passive Asian American and to let our voice be heard, it is also vital for us to speak in solidarity with other members of the body of Christ. While some in the majority culture might be tempted to brush us off if they perceive our indignation to be self-serving (which is not right, but it happens), it is an extremely powerful witness for us to stand up for those who might not be members of our communities.

There are certain media personalities I avoid because they are too frustrating. I know, I know… That’s their deal, their bread-and-butter — their notoriety is directly proportional to their ability to raise listeners’ blood pressure which, in turn, is directly proportional to their ratings. So they insult, mock and humiliate others with their derision, sarcasm and general stomping about. They “speak for the people” and shoot from the hip — until they are confronted with someone who will not stand for their nonsense. Then, they perform a little two-step: first, issue a public non-apology (attention shock jocks, pundits and talking heads: it’s not that difficult to learn how to apologize) and, then, a quick retreat behind the first amendment.

Last week, Don Imus (to whom I will not link) went on the air and called the women’s basketball team from Rutgers University “nappy headed hos.” Initially, he tried to brush this off as a poorly conceived attempt at humor but started backpedaling once he realized his job might be on the line. Instead, he received a two-week suspension from his employers. Eventually, after losing corporate sponsorship and high-profile guests, he was fired from his job. Here a couple of interesting responses to this controversy I have seen over the last couple of days:

Certainly, issues of race have been on my heart and mind over the last several weeks. But this recent controversy brings to the forefront of my thoughts another idea with which I have been wrestling for quite some time as well — that is, the idea of church-sanctioned misogyny.

The church is often guilty of following the culture’s lead. Sometimes, the results are almost surreal (sigh. double-sigh.). But it is genuinely troubling when the church begins to imitate the values of the culture around us. I’m not talking about pushing hot-button topics like abortion or homosexuality. It is clear that the religious right has used these topics to manipulate Christians into voting in their larger agenda. What has been on my mind is more subtle than these issues, and I see it coming up again and again in discussions of the church — what it is to be a man.

Over the last couple of years there have been numerous television ads that have attempted to define what manhood is all about. Beer ad after beer ad tells us that a real man is a hard-drinkin’, woman-objectifyin’, lovable dolt (who never experiences the negative consequences of this lifestyle). This burger ad declares “I am man” — hungry and incorrigible. A soap company urges the male of species to take back the shower (Because it smelled nice? Was it too clean?). This would just be an interesting anomaly, perhaps a response from those who felt left behind by the metrosexual movement of a couple years back, were it not for the apparent eagerness of many churches to sign up for this same agenda.

Here is how the thinking seems to go these days:

  • Identify the problem: There are not enough men in the church today
  • Identify the reasons behind the problem: Church is wimpy. The church has been neutered. Church is for girls. There is not enough bare-knuckled ultimate fighting. Most men could probably beat up the pastor in the pulpit (This is an actual reason stated by a church leader. With a straight face.), so they cannot be a part of such a group. Church takes too long.
  • Address the problem: Proclaim that Jesus is basically a tattooed street fighter who wants to throw down with all the namby-pampy wimps out there (Again, an actual description of our Lord. Apparently, also with a straight face). Start a “Church for Men” (Being a marketing major in college, I would have advised them to choose a name that wouldn’t immediately register “Hairclub for Men” in most people’s minds. But that’s just me).

While I agree that it is important to bring more men into the church, I strongly disagree with this movement within the church. On a personal level, none of these chest-pounding scenarios is particularly attractive to me. So, while I think it is really funny that the Church for Men times the pastor’s sermon on a scoreboard, I do not believe that only men find long sermons boring. I’m pretty sure no one, man or woman, likes a long-winded sermon. Sure, I love SportsCenter (much to the confusion of my beleaguered wife, I will watch the same SC twice in a row — guys, you know what I’m talking about) and I can finish most of the Rock’s singalong catchphrases (although I’m not sure I should be so proud about that one), most of my reading is limited to Page Two over at ESPN.com and I cannot walk through a museum without saying “I don’t get it” at least seven or eight times — but I refuse to believe that this is what defines me as a man.

It is the worst-case example of cultural eisegesis for churches to project the white, American definition of manhood onto Scripture (or our Savior, for that matter). Many proponents of this view say we got into this whole mess in the first place by catering to the felt needs of women (as if there were something wrong with upholding and valuing the intrinsic dignity and worth God has placed upon women), which drove men out of the church — bored and in tears (well, not really crying, because there’s no crying in church). Their approach does exactly what they claim caused this massive failure, except this time it works in their favor (as if this were a zero-sum proposition). They are catering to the felt needs of men in order to bring them into the church. The essential message is, “Hey, manly men! Jesus doesn’t want to transform your heart or redeem your perspective. No, He loves your belligerent pride — and your cage fighting! Spouting off hateful rhetoric? Great! Degrading and insulting others – yeah! Intimidation and slander – now you’re getting it! Jesus wants you to be a decider!”

I am not speaking about people like John Eldredge, whose “wild at heart” movement has spoken to scores of men (including me). However, I take significant issue with those who equate biblical masculinity with our Western culture’s view of masculinity. It makes me sad to think that there are pastors and leaders who are basically telling the men of their churches that God wants them to be hard drinking tough guys, or that it is the fault of women that they don’t want to come to church.

There is no one in human history mightier than Jesus. We remembered that this Easter Sunday, that even the cords of death could not contain our risen Lord. But Scripture tells us that Jesus did not use His immeasurable power to subjugate or harass others. Jesus laid down His life. The truest measure of strength is our ability to give it away. Those who become resentful when asked to submit themselves to God or to others are not genuinely powerful. Any jerk can get upset and stomp around. It takes a truly powerful person to lay down personal rights, agendas and pride for the sake of Christ — it takes a real man, if you will.

My family attended the Saddleback Easter service after our own church services were done (which was a pretty incredible answer to prayer, as we were able to bring several family members who are not Christians) and, interestingly, Rick Warren touched on some of these ideas during his sermon (which certainly would not have cut it at the man’s church because it was really, really long!). He pointed out that the early Christians were not fighting champions, but martyrs. They gave their lives away, down to their final breath, for the Gospel. Warren identified a similar problem within the church (sometimes men are not good at/don’t want to sit around and talk about their “feelings”) but went much deeper in addressing these issues. His definition of being a man (roughly paraphrased): Finding, and answering, a challenge that forces me to become something greater than myself. This journey will take integrity, courage and a willingness to risk.

One of my favorite quotes from him that night (about which one of my non-Christian family members smiled and said, “Wow, he just says it like it is, doesn’t he?” after the service) was, “It’s easy to live for yourself. Any fool can do that. But it takes real courage to live for something greater than yourself.”

These are issues with which I wrestle not only as a pastor, but as a follower of Jesus everyday. Last week, a pretty ugly encounter in the parking lot of a local shopping plaza made that abundantly clear. I will spare you the details, but what started off as a relatively small disagreement quickly boiled over into a direct confrontation. I stood there in the parking lot facing some guy who was clearly in the wrong, had purposely provoked a response from me and then walked away — quite an unholy trinity ;) Needless to say, I was extremely upset. And, to make matters worse, this guy’s demeanor basically said to me, “What are you going to do about it, Asian guy?”

I was tempted to subscribe, momentarily, to the myth of redemptive violence so that I could work this guy over (thanks, Jack Bauer!). In the end, gladly, I did not resort to physical violence. But I did perpetuate the problem by confronting this person with hostility. Although I never threatened this person, it was readily apparent that I was extraordinarily upset. No sooner did I confront this person than did he begin backpedaling, revealing that his tough guy front to be little more than a mask to cover his inner fear and insecurity. I experienced no satisfaction from letting this person know that he could not push me around. Instead, I felt a sort of creeping rot within me. Appropriately, I spent quite a bit of time in repentance before God this past Good Friday.

I don’t want to be part of a church that encourages these ugly, sinful tendencies within me. I refuse to believe that the story is that small. I long for God to transform the deepest parts of my heart, soul and body. I refuse to let culture or my own misguided heart tell me what it means to be a man. I want to be defined by God, and to build communities defined by Him.

Serving in a Korean American church creates a strange sense of both being intimately connected and profoundly disconnected from the first-generation (1G) congregation. At times, I experience almost a sense of extended family when I spend time with the 1G congregants. For example, over the past several Sundays I have been playing tennis with a group of 1G families. Usually, we will end the evening by sharing a nice meal together (pho, even!). At the same time, in my ministry to second-generation (2G) students there is a deep sense of disconnection. The only time anyone seems to notice the youth ministry is if there is a major problem (or a cluster of heavy boxes to move). Other than vague notions of raising “good Christians,” there is no sense of purpose or mission when it comes to the spiritual formation of these 2G students.

In this third installment of this series of thoughts, I would like to continue to engage some of the thoughts Marko shared here at his blog. His third observation about Asian American youth ministry centers around the idea of integrating youth into the overall life and ministry of the church. As Marko notes, this isn’t really a choice for most AA youth ministries — whether we like it or not, we exist as the lopsided little 2G ear, attached to the larger 1G “Mickey” head.

Misnomers

Most of the churches I have served have at least attempted to organize some kind of ministry to families. Unfortunately, though they have had good intentions, these attempts ultimately failed. Perhaps the most frustrating of these programs were the ones we called “family” ministries but did not integrate a holistic sense of cross-generational ministry. For example, unless we count being in relatively close physical proximity as being a meaningful inter-generational ministry, it is wrong for many of the churches I have served to call their programs “family” retreats or “family” worship services. In my experience, at these retreats there are usually completely separate worship & activity programs set up for each group and at these worship services the 1G parents often refuse to sit with their 2G children.

I applaud the attempts of a couple of forward-thinking 1G senior pastors I have known who have tried to break through this kind of thinking. Unfortunately, they have encountered seemingly insurmountable walls when it comes to the actual practice of cross-generational ministry. For example, attempts at integrating both 1G and 2G language and culture into one worship service usually makes it very long, and not particularly meaningful for either group. It’s a little bit of this and a little bit of that, and in the end, no one is happy with the result.

After a couple of frustrating attempts (and numerous complaints), the natural tendency for churches is to stop trying. It’s easier to walk away than to work through the awkwardness.

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