A Monday Smattering
- Google+, I have no use for you. Though you offer a few benefits over Facebook, the downside — that nobody really uses Google+ — far outweighs the slick interface and social circles.
- Begrudgingly, I am becoming a NFL fan — or a Minnesota Vikings fan, to be precise. Growing up in Tallahassee, the home of the Florida State Seminoles, I had no need for pro football. Few of my friends even had a favorite team. So it’s only appropriate that my Viking fandom has slowly begun as Christian Ponder, a FSU alum, starts as Minnesota’s quarterback.
- Speaking of Minnesota, the fact that Carhartt is now hip cracks me up. Farmers don’t need a fancy “Work in Progress” brand name to know it’s quality product.
- On another regional note, I recently bought a snowblower. Did I say, “sometimes I miss Florida”?
- Review to come later, but I am very much enjoying Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas.
Occupy Wall Street & Christian Theology, a Conversation
Last night at Theology Pub we hosted a conversation consider the Occupy Wall Street movement and Christian theology. In truth, when I scheduled the topic, I was a bit nervous about how it would go. After all, the Christian church these days sometimes feels more like a corporate conglomerate than a fringe movement taking to the streets. The conversation, however, went beautifully and I left contemplating the many cross-over notions of Christianity and the #Occupy movement (OWS).
In last week’s news roundup on NPR, NY Times columnist David Brooks said, “I think the Tea Party is like, 11 percent of the country. My estimate is that Occupy Wall Street is 2 or 3 percent of the country in what they actually want to do.” I’m not sure what Brooks thinks “they actually want to do,” but last night a fairly mixed group of young adults — Christians, atheists, seekers, seminarians, pastors — was definitely more than appreciative of the movement. Here’s why.
First, we considered how OWS might connect to Jesus’ notion of the “kingdom of God.” (See Brian McLaren’s piece here.) Conversation hinged on what a new version of the world might look like, one in which there is less income inequality, everyone has a voice, and diminished injustice. We considered, also, how the Kingdom of God is something that is not only coming in the future, but something that we can glimpse here and now. Perhaps OWS can remind and inspire Christians to live out that kingdom mentality.
Second, since the OWS folks seem to be living out certain intentional practices such as offering hospitality, food, prayer, tearing down of golden calves, and so on, we wondered with Elizabeth Drescher how OWS might be seen as a spiritual practice. Folks were less open to this notion, as they didn’t see religious identity as a determinative aspect to most folks’ participation in the protests. Certainly there are exceptions (such as the Protest Chaplains), but I was personally intrigued how folks seemed to be willing to make a distinction like, “People do this not because they’re Christian, but because they’re fed up with injustice.” I don’t like that distinction one bit, but it seemed to drive several persons’ thinking and went over without much debate.
Third, the move of OWS to “kill the Buddhas of power and hierarchy in our society,” as Nathan Schneider considers here, was quite compelling to folks. Our young adults needed almost no time to point out different idols of wealth, power, prestige, celebrity, nationality, even unquestioned democracy that needed to be called to account. (Of course, it’s always easier to point out the false idols of others than it is to claim your own hangups.)
Finally, we ended with a brief consideration of how sin (both personal and societal) might be way to put Christian language to the brokenness OWS folks are protesting.
At the end of the night, my uneasiness about the OWS topic has subsided, only to be replaced by another troublesome reality. Our conversation went so well, tapping into much of Christian theology and the Bible, that I mourned the fact such polite, wide-ranging, political conversation would be difficult to host in many mainline churches. But then again, according to the young adults gathered last night, it’s not Christians who push this justice stuff anyway.
image by Rob Sheridan
Social Media Blackout: This Time It’s Personal
I’m quitting social media. For a few days next week, that is. I think I might make it an annual occasion just like Harrisburg University. Readers might remember last year at this time when Harrisburg University of Science and Technology 
imposed a week-long ban on social media use on campus. Well, they’re at it again.
This week the university is blocking access over its network to Facebook, MySpace (who cares?), Twitter, and LinkedIn, as well as all instant messaging services. The administration can’t get at smart phones, I suppose, they’re not God after all.
Dr. Eric Darr, Executive Vice President and Provost of the University says,
It is not intended to be a punishment nor is it intended to be an indictment of social media. In fact, access to all social media sites was still possible over mobile wireless devices, proximate public networks or home-based networks. The hope is to make habits and effects of social media use more visible and understandable, particularly in the classroom, through temporary abstinence.
I love it! Plus, they talk about the ban in panels (and surely dorm rooms), so perhaps the students really can reflect.
I’ve decided to institute my own ban next week. I’m taking a few days of stay-cation plus three days visiting St. Johns Abbey and staying in the guesthouse. I’m pretty pumped for quietness, prayers, walking the trails, viewing the St. John’s Bible, and decidedly not Facebooking, Google+ing, or tweeting.
Harrisburg University conducted surveys and focus groups to reflect on the social media blackout last year. Some students reported better concentration in classrooms, more time spent on homework, and a better understanding of the value of face-to-face conversations. 33% reported feeling less stress during the blackout week.
Did I mention I’m looking forward to next week?
Never Kill A Question
A Thoughtful Christian.com Post
The young adult emergent ministry I lead takes a different sort of approach to event planning than the approach of most congregations. From our inception, the bias of our leadership was not to jump to planning activities and events because, well, there’s plenty of churches in Fargo-Moorhead that lack young adults. “Why guess what young adults might want and guess wrong again?” our ministry’s board members figured.
So instead, using a community organizing approach, the ministry is committed to meeting with young adults and asking them what their values, needs, questions, and hopes are. Then, only when we know real live 20-30 somethings who aren’t currently connected to a faith community, we plan events.
Out of these conversations with young adults has come a consistent refrain: they want places where young adults can ask real questions about faith, forums that are open, supportive, open-minded, and don’t immediately jump to the “official” answer as if that solves all.
Out of these yearnings, we’ve developed Theology Pub, a bi-weekly discussion at a bar. In a society where sex, politics, and religion are still difficult to talk about (not just snicker about, but really disect) in diverse public settings, at Theology Pub we make a space for open discussions of faith and religion. With the help of a small group, I come up with the topic for the night and publicize it beforehand. I bring to the evening a discussion sheetfor everyone with some quotations on the topic, as well as some questions, and then whoever shows up goes to it. It’s heavenly to see.
I consistently get two comments from young adults about the events, one explicit and one implicit.
Explicitly, they really like the diversity of opinions of the folks who show up. This week, for example, we had several devout Roman Catholics, an Atheist, several Unitarian Universalists, a few Lutherans (including pastors), a Pentecostal, and several whose faith resisted any labels. The diversity of the group assures that there will be plenty of questions and disagreement. And we love it.
Implicitly, in my conversations with folks before and after Theology Pub, I find that they assume (and I’m going to say “rightly so” in most cases) that the institutional church down the block is not a place where they can go to find a forum to ask their questions. Few churches provide open spaces for theological dialogue. Events like Sunday School tend to be about teaching a specific lesson to a group of insiders rather than providing a space for outsiders to consider what they might believe.
Of course, this brings up the important question I ask myself daily: how do I balance providing an open space for questioning with teaching what the Lutheran Church (ELCA) believes?
I continue to wrestle with this one, in more ways than I can account for in a blog post. But I keep coming back to the point that having opportunities for faith-filled conversation, for places to ask tough questions, is a vital ministry in and of itself. Surely there’s room for more, but starting with the questions isn’t a bad place to start. After all, it’s where we meet many young adults.
A pastor friend passed along this powerful poem last week that beautifully describes our approach. May it bless you as it did me.
Never kill a question;
it is a fragile thing.
A good question deserves to live.
One doesn’t so much answer it as converse with it,
Or, better yet, one lives with it.
Great questions are the permanent
and blessed guests of the mind.
But the greatest questions of all are those which build bridges to the heart,
addressing the whole person.
No answer should be designed to kill the question.
When one is too dogmatic or too sure,
one shows disrespect for truth and the question that points toward it.
Beyond my answer there is always more,
more light waiting to break in,
and waves of inexhaustible meaning
ready to break against wisdom’s widening shore.
Wherever there is a question, LET IT LIVE!
-a poem by Gerhard Frost found in his book, “Bless My Growing”
image by Mauro Sakamoto
Extra, Extra, Read All About It
The Fargo newspaper, the Fargo Forum, featured The Project F-M‘s ministry Theology Pub in today’s paper. The headline reads, “Holy happy hour: Project F-M reaches out to young adults to discuss spiritual issues” and boy is it a joy to see well-written local religion coverage. John Lamb’s reporting was thorough, thoughtful, inquisitive, and fair. Also, he made the initial contact for the article which I appreciated rather than us trying to sell ourselves.
I’ll respect the Forum’s advertisers and send you there for the whole article, but here’s the start.
MOORHEAD – The next generation of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America could be taking shape in an unlikely spot – the dark basement of a Moorhead bar.
The wood walls may make the Hunt Club – the lower level of Usher’s House – dim, but the conversation at Theology Pub is bright.
Twice a month, participants gather there to discuss issues of spirituality and faith over a drink and some snacks.
The meetings – the next of which is 7 p.m. Monday – are part of Project F-M, a new sort of ministry funded by the Eastern North Dakota and Northwestern Minnesota synods of the ELCA.
The goal of Project F-M is not to convert people to Christianity as much as it is to engage those who don’t go to church but have a sense of faith or are curious about spirituality in a discussion.
Expanding my worship culture
Strangely, in my current stage as mission developer of The Project F-M I don’t have regular Sunday morning commitments. So, in recent weeks I’ve taken Sunday mornings to visit several new church plants in the Fargo-Moorhead area. I’ll be perfectly honest: as vibrant as some of them are, I need a break from visiting such congregations. Fargo-Moorhead has several self-sustaining new churches with very young populations, but they are not my cup of tea. I say this in the spirit of open reflection, not wishing to denigrate at all. It’s just true: my personal worship culture is very different from that of the congregations I’ve visited recently.
I use that phrase, “worship culture” very intentionally. The 
way I think about it, each of us has a sort of way in which we find worship most, well, worshipful. For some folks worshipful worship takes high liturgy, for others it’s raising one’s hands in praise, others prefer silent meditation. Personal worship cultures can change over time of course, or adapt to different settings. But the point is that not all people find the same sort of worship service worshipful — duh, but it’s worth pointing out. And that’s great. That’s the beauty of the body of Christ.
With that careful prelude, let me now reflect on the three services I recently attended. Each of these was at a congregation in Fargo-Moorhead launched within the last 10 years. The average age of all three congregations was well under 40, and two were probably under 30. All took a much more conservative approach to Christianity compared to my personal views and that of the denominations with which I’m affiliated. This conservative approach was most clearly reflected in their very different way of approaching scripture. (In fact, at every service the pastor in some way or another distinguished their congregation from “non Bible believing” churches — as I took it, that seemed to include the ELCA and PC(USA).)
Now to specifics which I’ll bullet. They include both “wow, that’s spiffy” reflections and “boy, that’s as shame” points too.
- at each congregation someone made a point of shaking my hand and introducing themselves before I sat down. Love it!
- all three had coffee available beforehand that you then took into worship with you. (But, answer me this: why does everyone in the Midwest insist on making such crappy weak coffee?)
- none of the services were limited by time: no rushed sermons, no songs cut, worship lasted at least one hour and fifteen to an hour and a half, and that was cool
- there was an enormous emphasis one one’s personal relationship with Jesus, whether we were saved ourselves, and the import of bringing others to Christ’s salvation
- the songs (all led by praise bands) were 90% about adoration, praise, and devotion (most contemporary Christian genre but a few old hymns thrown in too)
- the sermons were 30-45 mins long, thematic, and mentioned many New Testament passages but only one Old Testament reference (Psalms)
- obvious, but should be noted: scripture lessons were not based on the Revised Common Lectionary (in fact, there were no scripture readings per se, just sermons), none of what ones thinks of as liturgy, no creeds, no confession/forgiveness sequence
- Communion was held at one service in a laid-back understated way
- No candles in sight. Lots of talk of Satan.
- people were dressed in casual clothes, worship leaders included
- all the worship locations were rented spaces in public buildings; each had a screen up front and rows of movable chairs
Suffice it to say: some aspects of these worship cultures were lovely, some were unfamiliar to me but positive, and some aspects were just painful (mostly theological statements that I consider blatantly wrong). But, I am very glad to have worshiped in these communities, in these new ways, and gotten a glimpse of some of the worship cultures in Fargo-Moorhead. Next week, who knows where I’ll go…there’s always worship at St. Mattress with the gospel of Sunday Times.
image by Carter Perrier
Connect Online
One of my more conservative friends posted this picture on his Facebook page recently, shared under the headline, “It’s funny, because it’s true.”
I get it. Ironic, right? Maybe so. Yes, the captions make a point, but it’s not one I find compelling. In fact, it illustrates just how important the protests are, and how challenging it is to live in corporate America.
Some folks might argue, I suppose, that if you use buy something from a certain corporation (a MacBook, say), then by that purchase you declare your support for the company. In a market economy, you speak with money. The reasoning goes: if you don’t want to support Apple, don’t buy a MacBook. Simple enough.
I can appreciate the directness of this approach. I wish life were as simple as that. But, it’s not.
If it were, I couldn’t ever complain to a company after I bought their product…but I do.
If it were, I couldn’t lobby my representatives after I voted them into office….but I do.
If it were, I couldn’t both go to church, financially support its ministry, and at the same time work for change within the church…but I do.
In an NPR report by Margot Adler, Occupy Wall Street protester Jason Ahmadi acknowledged this tension. He said, “McDonalds that’s where we use the bathroom. Verizon, that’s how we, you know, give you our live stream that we’re broadcasting.”
And that, my friends, is the lovely, beautiful, challenging, tension of our times. It’s the gray. That’s how I can proudly pay taxes, and advocate the government spend them differently. That’s how I can buy Patagonia long pants, and email them suggesting they make an “extra long” variety as well. That’s how I can say, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.”
In short, that’s how I live: simultaneously sinner and saint.
So the image above, rather than demonstrating the silliness of the protests, actually illustrates, for me, their great importance. Long live the tension, those who shed light on it, and all who struggle with the questions of our day.