Archives for category: ministry

This Song Sounds Familiar…

September 1, 2007 //

In his recent post — “Multiethnic churches saying and doing different things” — DJ Chuang writes about the difficulties the church still faces when it comes to race. DJ notes that while it is a positive step for 9 Marks Ministries to take on the problem of racism in their latest issue, they do not engage these issues in a way that might actually provoke transformation:

I found most of their articles to barely scratch the surface of the embedded problem of race within the American church. While upholding the imperative to think theologically about all things, and perhaps due to the limited space of addressing such a complex and multi-layered problem, all the energy gets spent on theological abstractions and doctrinal priorities with little consideration for strategic moves to make long overdue systemic and structural changes.

Right theology, doctrine and belief are important. Sincerity is not enough; as the old cliche goes, there are plenty of people who are sincerely wrong. However, I am increasingly frustrated with the kind of emphasis on orthodoxy that is completely disconnected from the transformation of our lives. This kind of orthodoxy is almost paralyzing — any discussion of orthopraxis is immediately dismissed as “emergent” heresy or caving into the culture. In these circles, people can be overbearing, obnoxious cavemen (and it usually is men in these cases) who insult, belittle and demean others and yet still be held in high esteem if they promote their particular theological agenda with zeal.

The church fails when we evade the topic of race and reconciliation under the guise of upholding right theology. If our beliefs are so deeply held, shouldn’t we see radically different communities of faith rising up? Even if we overemphasize the personal nature of salvation, wouldn’t a result of having more Christ-like individuals be more Christ-like church communities? As DJ asks in this incisive but crucial question:

And, why is it that just thinking rightly about theology, the Gospel, and the cross, and supposedly living out of that faith, has not resulted in Reformed churches being any more ethnically-diverse than non-Reformed churches.

In the reviews of Growing Healthy Asian American Churches over at 9 Marks, the reviewers repeat the mantra of “doctrine, orthodoxy, doctrine” as their main critique. One reviewer writes, “Since doctrine must birth action, people must first know who God is and what he desires of them before adequately addressing the how-tos of church.” Even if we grant that this sequential nature of spiritual growth is true (which, as David Park points out below, is not necessarily the case), we still find ourselves in the same dilemma — where doctrine is emphasized as an end in itself, and never actually gives birth to action.

Further, I am disappointed with the criticisms both reviewers have of the theology and ecclesiology in GHAAC. Instead of criticizing the authors’ theology or ecclesiology as “weak” it would be more accurate — and honest — for the reviewers to simply say that they disagree with the authors’ perspective. The theology/ecclesiology described in the book is only “weak” if one considers one’s own perspective on these issues as normative for all believers and all churches. It seems that part of the point of having a book written by multiple authors is to gain a broad spectrum of insights; as such, it is not a legitimate critique to expect a book like this to articulate one clearly defined theology or ecclesiology.

Growing into the people God has called us to become, in and through Christ, is not always a neat, linear process — although such a concept squares nicely with a Western perspective, reality can often be a much messier prospect. David Park sums up this idea nicely in a comment on DJ’s site:

I don’t disregard the notion that discipleship comes with submitting ourselves to the transformative process of the Holy Spirit. However, I find that this “hierarchy of spiritual needs” to be retarding the activity the body of Christ is called to do. That’s like saying I shouldn’t raise children until I learn to be a good husband when the fact of the matter is, that the raising of children can positively impact my ability to be a good husband. Besides, when is ever a good time to have children? We don’t control these passions. I believe God calls us to those things that are on his heart and we should not say, you are skipping steps 5-17 before getting to 18, lest we become Pharisaical in the way we view of God. Love does not have to follow a certain order.

Perhaps, ironically, Western evangelicalism doesn’t personalize our faith enough. We emphasize personal salvation and sanctification, but prescribe a sort of one-size-fits-all approach. However, life is messy. No matter how badly we want to systematize, categorize, guarantee or prescribe a set pattern for growth, it will not necessarily look the same for each of us. There are certain common elements to be sure (e.g., prayer, Bible reading, fasting, etc.) but I think this kind of “my way or the highway” type of thinking doesn’t add much to the conversation.

On a personal note, I was really frustrated by Jeremy Yong’s accusation that GHAAC was “misleading” in many ways. In particular, Yong criticizes Soong-Chan Rah’s call for the church to acknowledge and confront systemic racism and injustice. Here is Yong’s quote:

Another misleading example comes from Soong-Chan Ra’s chapter on mercy and justice. He calls the church to confront “systemic injustice.” Then he names several examples like “the enslavement of Africans, the genocide of the Native Americans and the internment of Japanese Americans during World War 2” (197). Then, three lines down on the page, he speaks of the “racist attitudes” of LifeWay Christian Resources (of the Southern Baptist Convention) and their 2004 Vacation Bible School curriculum “Rickshaw Rally: Far Out, Far East.”

Huh? How can he mention the enslavement of Africans and LifeWay Christian Resources in the very same breath? Call LifeWay what you want, but is not comparing chattel slavery with the blunders of LifeWay an injustice itself?

I cannot speak for Soong-Chan, but I find it hard to believe that he is equating the Rickshaw Rally debacle with chattel slavery. However, Yong misses the larger point: LifeWay was not only guilty of creating a reprehensible, racist VBS program — their stubborn refusal to apologize or make amends reveals a deeply ingrained racism. In his misguided attempt at garnering sympathy for LifeWay by claiming injustice on their behalf, Yong does the entire church — not only Asian American followers of Christ — a massive disservice. We cannot continue to sweep these issues under the rug. It saddens me that these reviewers have no problem naming what they perceive to be the theological shortcomings of the authors, but cannot acknowledge the blatant sinfulness of LifeWay’s actions. Obviously, the Rickshaw Rally curriculum was not equivalent to slavery — but both find their roots in the same attitude.

I am not trying to dwell in the past. It takes courage to name and confront systemic racism in the church, but perhaps it takes even more to work towards understanding, reconciliation and love. As many have said, we cannot move forward if the needle keeps getting stuck in the same groove over and over again. A final word from DJ:

So let’s get to the fresh thinking about racism already, rather than concluding with the same song to get more theological and get more thinking about the racism problem. And let’s really dig deeper and recognize how culture shapes theology, and the lens by which theological constructs were put together may need re-examination and itself re-considered in a more multicultural context.

Categories asian american, church, ministry, race, reconciliation

This Beautiful Mess

August 28, 2007 //

The headline of the September 3, 2007 issue of Time magazine made me hold my breath for a moment: “The Secret Life of Mother Teresa.” In this day & age, scandal among leading figures of faith is nothing new — but Mother Teresa?

Well, as it turns out, her “secret” is that she suffered a crisis of faith. I suppose in a culture where Mother Teresa is more of a cultural archetype than an actual human being, the fact that she struggled — mightily, at times — in her faith would be a shocking “secret” worthy of an expose. I would never wish a dark night of the soul upon anyone. The pain, the emptiness, the grief — these things can almost tear a person apart. But I find myself oddly reassured that Mother Teresa was a real human being, with very real questions, doubts and struggles. It gives me hope that, by the grace of God, I can become the person God intends for me to be. As Eugene Cho writes in his post about this article:

While I have joy in my convictions as a believer of God and follower of Christ, I am not afraid to call Mystery and Doubt my friends and acquaintances. They have accompanied my journey for some time…and have actually strengthened my walk with Christ.

It is almost human nature to love the idea of a person more than the physical human being in front of us. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that is a large part of why many relationships fail — we develop this idealized version of our beloved that can only lead to disappointment and failure. I love this quote from Bonhoeffer’s Life Together:

Those who love their dream of a Christian community more than the Christian community itself become destroyers of that Christian community, even though their personal intentions may be ever so honest, earnest and sacrificial.

Even though I’ve been serving in a first-generation immigrant church context for awhile now, I still struggle with understanding the Asian idea of saving face. At times, it feels like we are willfully misleading people in order to maintain the dream of the community, as opposed to entering the messy reality of one another’s lives. It’s safer and simpler to keep each other at arm’s length. But what costs so little yields a similarly cheap result.

I have really struggled over the last couple of weeks because of the circumstances of a family we know. The husband and wife have been contemplating divorce — difficult in any circumstance, but made even stickier in a first-generation immigrant setting. On top of that, the husband works for their church as a member of the first-generation staff. Unfortunately, their resolution seems to be sending off the husband to another country for “mission” work. This ridicules not only the sanctity of marriage, but also the calling to cross into another culture and serve in the name of Christ. The frightening thing is that I’m sure many of us could repeat almost verbatim the same story from our own church experience — it’s not love that covers over a multitude of sins, but a holy facade.

What would happen in the Asian American church if we acknowledged, and entered into, the mess of one another’s lives? We might have to fight our inner Homer Simpson shouting “Too much infor-mation!” and deal with the awkwardness of actually getting to know each other, but isn’t it worth it? The mess could become beautiful if we lived in it together. If you need a little inspiration, or a soundtrack to your messy spirituality, listen to this track, I Live In The Mess You Are, by Zookeeper (Chris Simpson of post-rock powerhouse Mineral and shoegaze wonders The Gloria Record).

Tags first generation

Categories asian american, books, church, controversy, faith, frustration, hope, ministry

Are Preaching And Worship Mutually Exclusive?

August 1, 2007 //

Well, that might be overstating the case a bit, but I have been kicking this around this question for awhile: Why do we preach? I ask this not only as someone whose vocation includes preaching every week, but as someone who wants to encounter God in the community of believers during our weekly gatherings. I know, I know — we preach for the glory of God, sola Scriptura, etc. — but where does preaching really fit into all of this?

I have experienced a wide range of feelings towards preaching. When I entered seminary, I was so excited to preach — while part of me probably just wanted to be that guy up front, I felt genuinely honored to deliver God’s Word week in and week out. However, as many preachers have undoubtedly experienced themselves, it didn’t take long for cynicism to kick in — Why should I put in all the time and effort when no one (myself included) seems to remember what I preached last week? Does any of this sermonizing actually change a person? Should it really take an hour to make just a couple of points? Should the vast majority of our gatherings be spent with one person up in front doing all the talking while everyone else sits passively? Very few things generate within me more ill-will than a sermon that drags on endlessly, teasing you with the possibility of closure but shutting that door with the death knoll, “And now for my second point.”

My wife, daughter and I had dinner with Marko and his family the other week and the conversation turned to church, worship and preaching. My wife made a comment that has stuck with me since then: As the church, we are called to be a worshiping community but, unfortunately, there often isn’t a whole lot of worship going on in our churches. We talked about not needing the preacher to create a set of three nicely manageable takeaways or to fill in all the blanks with a pithy “thought for the day.”

I have made a sincere effort over the last couple of years to shorten my sermons which, ironically, takes more preparation. While my tone might suggest otherwise, I am not inherently opposed to long sermons, nor do I feel like I must be entertained by them. A pastor back in Jersey for whom I have much respect preaches really long and boring sermons every single week — but their community is alive. I can feel it when I preach too long, though — even I get sick of hearing me talk at that point.

Lisa Takeuchi Cullen recently wrote a piece for Time where she confesses she wishes for a return to the Latin Mass — not so much out of nostalgia but, in her words, “I want to hear Mass sung in a language I don’t understand because too often I don’t like what I hear in English.” The fact that she grew up in a church where she did not understand the language (traditional Japanese, in her story) was not a hindrance to her faith. Just the opposite, rather, as it gave her ample time to think:

Not understanding all the words spoken during the endless sermons, I had little choice but to spend the time in thought about myself, my family, my God. There’s something to be said for that, isn’t there? Mass became for me an hour-long meditation in the community of the faithful, reaffirming ancient beliefs in familiar if inscrutable chant. I’m not so sure that isn’t what the Apostles intended.

While I disagree with some of what she wrote, Cullen makes an important observation: Often, we encounter God not through someone else’s words about Him, but through our own pursuit of and reflection upon God. We have heard the stories of people who, after several years, trade the seeker-friendly megachurch environments at which they became followers of Christ for high church, liturgy and mystery.

Some churches carve out sacred space through more singing, others through contemplative exercises. Regardless of the methodology, the common themes of worship seem to be participation and interaction — both of which can be glaringly absent during a sermon. So, I’m left with the question — How can my preaching help others to love God and people more?

I’m just starting through Preaching Re-Imagined, and I resonate with a lot of what Doug Pagitt has to say about preaching. Hopefully, I will be able to share some of my thoughts about this book soon. Until then, here is a great passage from the introduction:

I am a pastor who seeks to live in a community of people who are living out the hopes and aspirations of God in the world. Like many of you I play a particular role in my community. As the pastor I’m often referred to as “the preacher.” And frankly, this is a role I no longer relish. There was a time when I did. There was a time when I felt my ability to deliver sermons was a high calling that I sought to refine but didn’t need to redefine.

Those days are gone. Now I find myself regularly redefining my role and the role of preaching. I find myself wanting to live life with the people of my community where I can preach — along with the other preachers of our community — but not allow that to become an act of speech making. Instead I want it to be a living interaction of the story of God and the story of our community being connected by our truth telling, our vulnerability, and our open minds, ears, and eyes — all brought together by the active work of the Spirit of God as we “Let the message of Christ dwell among us richly as we teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in our hearts” (Colossians 3:16).

Categories asian american, books, church, ministry, preaching

That’s Some Plan B

July 13, 2007 //

My wife and I were meeting up with one of our college students the other day. We’re just getting to know all of them, and it has been next-to impossible to get them all together at once. So, we’ve been meeting them individually. Much of what this student shared from her life reflects the experience of many Asian American college students — she had roommate problems her first year, she’s looking for an internship, her family life is, unfortunately, quite broken.

But one thing she shared stood out to me. In the midst of sharing about her family, she mentioned that her older brother was thinking of going to seminary. Oh really? we asked. Yes, she replied. He hasn’t had much luck finding a job with his current degree (I think it was environmental science), so he thought he might have better luck with seminary.

Ugh.

It’s so easy to misinterpret or misunderstand the call to vocational church ministry. At one extreme, we over-spiritualize “the call.” Some people love the seat of power, and they think becoming a pastor will give them some kind of authority over people. Jesus had a couple of choice words for these folks. My wife and I used to work with a pastoral intern who loved sitting right next to the senior pastor at church functions, and who hid out in his office area on the church-wide cleanup day. I don’t like the fact that I just spent the last hour and a half cleaning the bathrooms and mopping the hallways here at church but, hey, it’s part of the deal in this case. Not because I’m particularly humble or holy — just realistic. We’re a very small church, and if I don’t do it, no one will. And, in my OCDness, I cannot stand for it.

I am a huge believer in the priesthood of all believers. Although being a church pastor is a unique position, I don’t believe it is inherently more holy or spiritual than working in an office or waiting on tables (in fact, it has a lot more in common with these vocations than some might think). We are all called to ministry — but our specific vocation will vary from person to person.

At the other extreme, some people look down on pastors — as if we ended up where we are today because nothing else worked out. Just today, I was having lunch with a church family when one of them asked me if I had been to college. I was genuinely taken aback. I am a graduate of the top-ranked undergraduate business school for over ten years running (not to mention the same university as John Legend).

Youth ministry is more than glorified babysitting; I work hard to provide spiritual care, formation and direction for our students. I invest in their lives. I keep up with the latest professional journals. I am constantly trying to innovate, edit, repent and be creative, honest, and genuine in my ministry. I have a Masters degree from a rigorous theological seminary program; as such, I try to engage students and their families from a theological, and developmental, perspective.

This is probably a little bit presumptuous on my part, but being in ministry is a little bit like being an artist. How many people have walked up to a Jackson Pollack and said, “My four-year old kid could do that.” Heck, even Olivia tried it out home once. In a similar way, I cannot tell you how many people have come up to me and basically said, “I could do that.” My brother-in-law constantly tinkers with the idea of going to seminary (although he is already a medical doctor) because he is a good public speaker and likes the idea of getting up there to preach. In both art and ministry, it is a lot harder than it looks. In fact, the best preachers I have known make it look easy because of the preparation they have put into it. Not to mention the fact that preaching is actually a very small part of what “ministry” actually is.

If this has all put you into a bad mood, I apologize. Watch this. You’ll feel better.

Categories asian american, boo!, church, ministry, sigh, youth ministry

Some Thoughts on “Organic Community”

June 27, 2007 //

Having enjoyed and been challenged by The Search to Belong, I have been looking forward to reading Organic Community by Joseph Myers for awhile. While I was a little bit sore at DFW for not having free wi-fi access (do people really spend ten dollars to get online for an hour?), I was glad to have a couple of hours to finish up this book.

One of my favorite chapters is about coordination and the difference between cooperation and collaboration. I have been a part of many top-down, master-planned, vision-casted church communities where falling in line is spun as “cooperating.” I love this idea of people actually working together and contributing in meaningful ways in church communities. Recently, I have been asked to take on several additional ministry responsibilities, including developing a college ministry and preaching in our afternoon EM service from time to time. I have been doing my best to print, copy and fold the bulletins for our EM worship services — a task previously performed by a couple of EM members — to free them for the more important ministry of relationship building. Eventually, when we need to print more than forty or fifty Sunday bulletins, we might need volunteers to come in and take care of it. For now, though, I really want to see our people invested in the things that really count — not just plugging them into our church’s perceived “needs” (folding bulletins, parking lot attendants, etc.). Having a big vision for the church is great but, if we’re not careful, it can lead us to love the idea of church more than the reality of where we actually live.

Myers gives a couple of interesting analogies about forging a new way forward in building communities:

We can be as intentional with community as we are with going to sleep. It is almost impossible to make yourself go to sleep. In fact, the more intentional you are, the less likely it is that you will fall asleep.

A more helpful way forward is to create an environment in which there is a good chance you will fall asleep… The same is true for community. We can have some control over the environments in which community usually emerges, but we have little or no control over community actually emerging. We can intend for the process of community to begin, but we cannot create community intentionally.

Think about the last party you hosted at your home. Did you offer a guarantee to your guests that they would have a good time? That they would make new friends? Of course not. But I’m sure you did try to create an environment that would help your guests feel comfortable and relaxed…

You would put food on the table, imagining perhaps that people would linger there… You probably played some ambient music in the background, soften enough that people wouldn’t have to compete with it, but loud enough that it might alleviate awkward pauses in conversation. You might have grouped chairs together in such a way to facilitate conversation. And so on.

Once I get beyond my tendency to jump right to the best-practices/takeaways (“Yes! At church we will now group our chairs in a certain way and play perfectly balanced ambient music in the background. And then we’ll grow our numbers. Thanks, Joe Myers!”) I am both challenged and relieved. Challenged, because I think most pastors have a certain amount of stubborn confidence in their leadership that is necessary at times (forging ahead in obedience to God’s will when it is difficult for others to see it) but can often lead to unnecessary conflict and hinder the leadership of others. But mostly I an encouraged, because this frees me from being solely responsible for the growth and health of our community (not that I ever had any control over these things).

I don’t know if I have ever really felt connected in a small group setting. I have had wonderful friends with whom I have grown, laughed, cried and prayed — but, somehow, when we formalize the relationship into an “official” small group it feels sterile and cold. Myers writes a little bit about this in his chapter on partnership and the difference between accountability and what he called edit-ability. The focus of many small groups is pretty bleak. As Myers writes,

There is such an underlying expectation of failure phrased in a language of absolutes and either/ors. If you truthfully answer any of these questions (e.g., “What one sin plagued your walk with God this week? Is your thought life pure? At any time did you compromise your integrity?”) with a less-than-perfect response, what happens?

We definitely need help in living for Christ, but all too often we interpret “iron sharpening iron” as, “You’ll be sharpened when I get all up in your grill and bust you for your long list of sin and failure.” This might work for some people, but the vast majority of people I have known cannot be coerced or shamed into loving God more deeply.

We can build a more positive ethos in our communities if we see accountability as a kind of author/editor relationship — thus, “edit-ability.” Here is the way Myers puts it,

This is how a good author-editor relationship works: The author submits a rough draft. The editor makes suggestions, even disagrees at times with the author. The author considers the editor’s suggestions, and will often make adjustments. The author and editor continue to go back and forth until the project is complete. The entire process is one of give-and-take collaboration.

The title of the book, “Organic Community,” calls to mind images of farming — not the pesticide-laden, hormone-added mass production kind, but the slow-food, small-scale local farmer. It is time to move away from the pastor as CEO concept (although this is still necessary for some large-scale operations), where one person stands before the entire group and hands down “the vision” to the masses. It might be a little too nostalgic, but I think there is some merit to the idea of pastor as farmer. We must cultivate the land; we must work with the conditions we are given (not as we would have them, or as our weather plug-in tells us); we must be willing to get our hands dirty as we attempt to steward new life; we must be aware of the overall balance of the farm — not pushing so hard that the fields become fallow, but not underutilizing our resources either.

We just received our first installment of our CSA membership. Though I missed the momentous occasion of picking up the produce, my wife called me to tell me all about it. The produce was fresh and tasty — and extremely natural. Upon shucking one of the ears of corn, my wife and daughter discovered some kind of corn bug in there. But instead of being grossed out, my wife was kind of happy to find the little critter in there because it showed that the food was not being bombarded with pesticides but was grown with care, naturally. When we lead an organic community, we might not get the slick production of excellence to which we’re accustomed but we just might find the friendships we’re looking for, corn bugs and all.

Categories books, church, community, emerging church, ministry, reviews