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A tale of two worshippy experiences

I was lucky enough to visit not one but two new faith communities in the Twin Cities this weekend, Jacob’s Well and Humblewalk Lutheran Church. Both communities worship in new ways, attempting to be welcoming places for people not drawn to traditional ELCA congregations. Both communities are also very different.

Jacob’s Well meets Sunday mornings in two locations, both schools. I arrived a few minutes before the 10:30 service start and was greeted by many flags and signs in the parking lot. Inside the school people gathered in the hallway drinking coffee and chatted. Parents took their kids to classrooms staffed by happy-looking adults (there were lots of kids around) and a table with fruit sat to one side.

The worship space was a school auditorium decorated very nicely for worship. Several candles were lit, water was flowing in a makeshift font, two large screens sat above each corner of the stage and the four-person band was up front. The service included several praise songs, a few videos (mostly made in-house), and a few prayers but the main part — about 45 minutes — was a discussion between a pastor and a guest about the question, “What if…love really did win?” Congregation members could text questions to a number on a screen if they wanted to ask something of the speakers, and it was all done in a loose, natural, conversational style. Both speakers were women.

At the end, an offering was taken. I’m guessing a little over 100 people were in attendance. There was no communion.

Later in the day I attended Humblewalk Lutheran Church in a smal high-ceilinged converted office space in St. Paul. This service was very low-tech compared to Jacob’s Well. Since the group was a different size than Jacob’s Well — 20 or so — I was greeted personally several times throughout the evening. After a little mingling, we sat in chairs facing a decorated table. Songs were led by a single acoustic guitar and folk singer type, and ranged from more traditional hymns to contemporary praise and worship. The congregation sang very well. Several kids walked around during the service, and parents corralled them or let them wander as they felt called.

I don’t remember Jacob’s Well having any liturgy — any words I was to speak — but the flow of Humblewalk’s service is found in the newest worship book and congregation members were supposed to respond at several point. In fact, before the prayer of confession we were asked to consider and even share out loud anything particular we wished to confess.

Everything at Humblewalk was very laid-back and informal. At one point Pastor Jodi flubbed a bit of the liturgy. The congregation just smiled and she tried again. We celebrated communion — I was served by a ten year-old.

A notable different in the services (from this mission developer’s point of view, at least) is that Jacob’s Well included no scripture reading. While a portion from 1 John was on a handout on our chairs, it was never read or referenced from the stage. Humblewalk, however, included two readings from John 20 and a responsive reading of Psalm 16. I suppose other differences include the fact that Pastor Jodi at Humblewalk wore a clergy collar (though informally) while Pastor Dawn at Jacob’s Well wore a T-shirt and jeans jacket.

I’ve found this great post by Andrew Jones helpful in the past few weeks in framing the many different types of churches. In Jones’ rubric, Jacob’s Well, though connected to a mother ELCA congregation, felt most like #2 GenX, Postmodern, and “Emergent” while Humblewalk was clearly more of a #4 House churches, simple churches, organic churches (with a clear liturgy).

In broad terms, I expect Humblewalk would be less attractive for someone who is totally new to faith and formal worship, as it assumed a certain comfortability with liturgy (even though it was done in a very relaxed way, almost like church camp). On the other hand, Jacob’s Well didn’t really expect me to do a thing — nobody shook my hand or welcomed me by name so I could consider faith questions below-the-radar. Also, Jacob’s Well lack of scripture readings presumably wouldn’t scare off those who are questioning or intimidated by the Bible.

But I’m a pastor, a professional church leader, so my views surely are shaped with a bias. Have you attended a new worship community recently? Do you long for a different kind of faith gathering? Which of Andrew Jones’ ten church types appeals most to you?

update: I should have said this in the original post — Thanks, very much, to all the leadership of Humblewalk and Jacob’s Well. I blog on them mostly as a way to think out-loud, and I’m really grateful for your ministry and wish you the best.

image by TACLUDA


 

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Beyond boxes: imagining how to move well

Also posted at Gathering Voices a blog for TheThoughtfulChristian.com

Oh, moving. Cardboard boxes. Back strains. Getting the furniture arranged just right. In a few short weeks, I’ll be doing it again. In the past five years I’ve lived in four different places (Decatur, Ga; Ayr, Scotland; Grand Forks, N.D., and now Moorhead, Minn. — and that’s not even counting time at the manse in Hallock, Minn.). As a young adult, I’m not particularly unusual. Statistics show slightly different numbers, but on average young adults move around every three years or so.

Screen shot 2011-04-26 at 11.33.09 PMThat’s a lot of boxes, and back strains, and arranging furniture. But it also makes me think: how does one move well? I mean, beyond the fancy ways to load boxes on the truck and managing to hang pictures on the wall within the first month of arriving in a new place. How does one move well in terms of integrating into a new community, getting to know one’s neighbors, and working for justice in a new place?

I don’t know. But I’ve been thinking about moving, dreaming about moving even. And here’s a little list I’ve concocted. I’m not saying I’d have the gumption to carryout all the list. But, as I consider how to move well, here’s a few ideas beyond the boxes.

Top ten things to do after moving to a new place:

  1. bake your new neighbors cookies and have a conversation when you deliver them
  2. attend worship at the closest church to your new place, whatever the denomination
  3. go to the nearest coffee shop, find a regular customer, and buy that person a cup of coffee and/or go to the nearest bar and do the same
  4. host an ice cream social at your new place, deliver invitations to all your neighbors
  5. spend an entire Saturday in your front yard (or apartment courtyard) — do yard work (without headphones), read a book, play with a puppy, whatever you do be visible and available for conversation
  6. attend a school board meeting and/or city council meeting
  7. seek out your local elected representatives and schedule an appointment to simply meet them and get to know one another
  8. subscribe to the local newspaper and read it, every day, for at least a month
  9. get a library card, use it once a month, and spend a day at the library
  10. within the first six months, volunteer with three different local non-profits

In Christianity, caring for one’s neighbor is at the heart of the faith. But I’m the first to admit that caring for folks at the local homeless shelter is much more comfortable for me than actually befriending the neighbors next door with the obnoxious yard signs, or smiling at cheapskate who steals the local coffee shop’s wireless Internet connection without even buying coffee or leaving his car. While I’m all for a broad interpretation of what Jesus meant when he said “love your neighbor as yourself,” I think his words most definitely must apply to one’s literal neighbors too.

Our culture makes it very easy to treat one’s house as one’s castle, to not venture beyond one’s garage unless in the car with the windows tightly rolled up. What if we were to measure moving well not by boxes and back aches and furniture, but by neighbors loved?

image by CBIdesign

Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com

 

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Muddling through: how to lead a new faith community

Leading a church that isn’t a “church,” doesn’t meet regularly, and has a loose version of itself is all rather tricky. It’s also a lot of fun. I’m four weeks into my position at Mission Developer with The Project F-M, and I’m discovering new joys and challenges each day. I won’t overshare or bore you with mundane details (like the three hours it took me to put together that damn office chair), but I am developing a series of working theories about the Project and young adult ministry in Fargo-Moorhead.

All these hypotheses are very preliminary, but the little time I’ve had to tackle the Project’s next steps so far has led me to think on these things. So, in the spirit of openness, I invite you to think on these things as well. And, of course, please let’s think together in the comments.

Hypothesis One: Some new faith communities have natural starts; others have more chaotic births.
As I’ve spoken with other people who have started new missional/emergent/whatever communities, many stories are of communities that have developed quite naturally. “I almost came onto such-and-such a community by accident. Friends kept telling me to lead an informal prayer service, so when I had the time, I did, and it just took off from there.”

Or, mission developers were called with very specific tasks in mind: start a bible study, transition into a church, buy a building, go from there. Neither of these starts are simple or without many challenges along the way, but there’s a natural flow, a building of interest and energy and a clear movement from A to B.

On the other hand, other starts are more chaotic. Values and vision and energy don’t mesh as easily, and larger challenges keep cropping up. Talking through these challenges can be really helpful for all, but if they’re not addressed head-on they fester and positive growth is difficult.

Hypothesis two: paraphrasing from a conversation partner, “Most 20/30 somethings I know (myself included) would never want to ‘go to church,’ but they all are happy, even eager, to discuss faith and spirituality.”
Another side of this statement has to do with our traditional notion of what church is, and the young adult stereotype that church is boring, out-of-touch, and irrelevant. Without arguing that point one way or another, I’m totally willing to grant that the impulse to talk about faith, and to be in an accepting community of faith-seekers, is stronger (and more powerful) than an invitation to “go to church.”

Hypothesis three: smaller might be better.
Words like “community,” “friendship,” and “relationships” keep coming up in my discussions. Fargo-Moorhead boasts some very large Lutheran congregations — some totally great ones. Their size is usually a huge asset, but I find myself considering the benefits of small groups and small gatherings for now. As much as I can, I’m trying not to jump to a working image of gatherings that measure success by their size.

Hypothesis four: The elephant in the Project F-M room is how to speak of Jesus Christ without being off-putting, how to claim a distinct Christian identity without coming across as too in-your-face or close-minded.
I’ve read many places that Gen X and Y is said to belong to a community first before they believe (whereas, in the past, people first believed a certain theological framework and then sought to belong to a church that espoused a similar belief). The question becomes, though, how to move from belonging to believing with a group of people who are of a questioning/seeking faith to being with.

image here

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Good Friday and Earth Day

Today, for the first time ever, Earth Day falls on Good Friday. So, you can stop by Starbucks or Caribou Coffee with your travel mug and get a free cup of coffee on the way to Good Friday services. What a country!

I wondered, however, if any Christians were working on the connection between the two celebrations, and here’s a quick smattering of what I’ve found.

  • a glorious article by my former profs, Stan Saunders and Bill Brown entitled, “Good Friday and Earth Day: A Providential Convergence” Earth Covenant Ministry version here | AJC version here
  • John Murdock asks the question on Patheos, “Is Good Friday Good for the Earth?
  • and a friend is organizing a “Good Friday Seed Bomb” event at her church today with dirt, seeds, and the promise of new life
  • and Jennifer Frayer-Griggs reminds her Facebook friends of this exerpt from Wendell Berry’s novel Jayber Crow

All my life I had heard preachers quoting John 3:16: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” They would preach on the second part of the verse, to show the easiness of being saved (”Only believe”). Where I hung now was the first part. If God loved the world even before the event at Bethlehem, that meant He loved it as it was, with all its faults. That would be Hell itself, in part. He would be like a father with a wayward child, whom He can’t help and can’t forget. But it would be even worse than that, for He would also know the wayward child and the course of its waywardness and its suffering. That His love contains all the world does not show that the world does not matter, or that He and we do not suffer it unto death; it shows that the world is Hell only in part. But His love can contain it only by compassion and mercy, which, if not Hell entirely, would be at least a crucifixion…

What answer can human intelligence make to God’s love for the world? What answer, for that matter, can it make to our own love for the world? If a person loved the world–really loved it and forgave its wrongs and so might have his own wrongs forgiven” what would be next?…

If God loves the world, might that not be proved in my own love for it? I prayed to know in my heart His love for the world, and this was my most prideful, foolish, and dangerous prayer. It was my step into the abyss. As soon as I prayed it, I knew that I would die. I knew the old wrong and the death that lay in the world. Just as a good man would not coerce the love of his wife, God does not coerce the love of His human creatures, not for Himself or for the world or for one another. To allow that love to exist fully and freely, He must allow it not to exist at all. His love is suffering. It is our freedom and His sorrow. To love the world as much even as I could love it would be suffering also, for I would fail. And yet all the good I know is in this, that a man might so love this world that it would break his heart.”

One of Megan’s Facebook friends wrote off-handedly this morning in her status about the insignificance of Earth Day as compared to Good Friday. I get it. Good Friday came first. But, on second thought, Earth Day can really only take its full meaning with God’s love in Jesus in mind. Blessings for a Good Earth Day and Holy Friday to all.

image by brianloc

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Taxing the uninformed

Also posted at Gathering Voices a blog for TheThoughtfulChristian.com

The Obamas and Bidens released their tax returns this week. If you were wondering, President Obama made $1.7 million, well down from last year (I guess e-book sales really are hurting authors these days). The Bidens’ income was $379,000, though their charitable giving of 1.4% of their income is pretty poor if you ask me (including, by the way, $1000 to Westminster Presbyterian Church). In any case, the President and Vice President’s tax returns are now public.

In Norway, all tax returns are published online. All of them — not just those of public officials. I grew up the son of a pastor whose annual salary was posted on the bulletin board in the main hallway of the church. When I was hired as a pastor in Hallock, my salary was approved by the congregation and the presbytery. Openness. Accountability. Transparency.

Down the drainThough some public positions require one’s salary to be posted for all to see, the general practice in the US is to be very tight-lipped about one’s salary. It’s fine to complain generally about paying too many taxes, but one doesn’t get too specific. In fact, even as a pastor whose salary is pretty darn public, I can’t recall ever having had a conversation with a friend about how much money we make.

With my peers it’s ok to complain about student loans. I’ve playfully fought over who should pay many a bar tab, but talking specifics of salary, charitable donations, retirement savings and that sort of thing. Well, we just wouldn’t do that.

I wish it were different.

I wish we had more open and honest conversations about money, giving, spending, and debt.

I wish we were like those in some spiritual communities who meet annually to hold each other accountable, spending included.

I wish we all posted our salaries on a public bulletin board, or online.

And I wish, when we did that, we might come to understand salvation comes from God not money.

I know it’s not particularly helpful to simply complain and wish for pie-in-the-sky happenings, but I find it difficult to do more when it comes to US conversations about money. Take this CNN poll that recently found Americans so far off in their estimations of US government expenditures that, upon reading the results, you either have to laugh or crawl up in a ball crying.

According to the poll, on average Americans think we spend 10% of the budget on foriegn aid — the actual number is close to 1%. They think we spend 5% on public broacasting while the real percentage is a tenth of 1%. They also mistakenly assume we spend many more times the actual dollar on low income housing and food programs.

So what is a thoughtful Christian to do? Well, first of all, one could check out the cool Federal Tax Receipt program at the White House website. Put in how much you paid in taxes this year and out pops the proportion of what went where. Pretty spiffy, really.

After posting the tax recepit calculator to my Facebook page this week, a pastor friend commented wondering if congregations should make similar recepts for stewardship campaign season. I thought that was a brilliant ideal. I’ll add it to my list of wishes. How much to buy three?

image by brainloc

Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com

 

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Review of Sherry Turkle’s “Alone Together”

[Article first published as Book Review: Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other by Sherry Turkle Sherry Turkle's "Alone Together" on Blogcritics.]

I have several speaking engagements on faith and technology lined up in the coming months, so I figured I should probably learn something about faith and technology sometime soon. With that in mind, I picked up Sherry Turkle’s Alone Together, and boy am I glad I did.

Turkle is making the rounds these days. Here she is on All Things Considered, Talk of the Nation, and Krista Tippett On Being, She’s popular because a) she must have an awesome publicist and b) she says reflective informed things about how Americans use technology.

I underlined and dog-eared the heck out of my copy of Alone Together, so there’s dozens of quotes I’d like to share. However, the basic premise is this. Churchill said, “We shape our buildings and then they shape us.” Turkle says, “We make our technologies, and they, in turn, shape us.” A psychologist who teaches at MIT, Turkle has the studied robotics, computers, and handheld technologies for years. Her basement, she says, is like a graveyard for toy robots — Furbys, Tamagotchi, My Real Babies, etc. She conducts dozens of qualitative studies on technology’s effects on folks, particularly young people. She writes well too, plainly but persuasively.

The book is in two parts. The first, “The Robotic Moment: In Solitude, New Intimacies” explores how robots — toys, mostly, but also companions and, increasingly, medical devices — affect the way we live. In these chapters, she asks interesting questions about times when robotic pets replace real pets and robotic nurses replace real carers. She had conducted interviews in which kids say things like, “I wish I could build a robot to save me from my brothers…I want a robot to be my friend…I want to tell my secrets.” Another preferred a robot dog AIBO because it could do things the boy’s dog couldn’t do like not get sick and die.

I hadn’t considered robots much before reading Alone Together, but now I’m fascinated. Especially, the robots developed to comfort residents of nursing homes make me wonder about the importance of human nurture — if humans develop a robot that comfort elderly folks, can that be seen as an extension of our care or the renunciation of it?

The second part of the book is about the effects of networked lives on our culture, and especially on our children. I was most struck by stories of teenagers who longed for their parents to get off their phones and be more present with them — at the dinner table, at school pick up, at sports events, even watching TV. Turkle says she went into the project expecting to find parents complaining about their kids’ addiction to technology, but she actually found kids complaining about their parents more often.

Here are just a few quotes from Turkle’s research to whet your appetite:

  • “If Facebook were deleted, I’d be deleted…All my memories would probably go along with it…If Facebook were undone, I might actually freak out…That is where I am. It’s part of your life. It’s a second you.”
  • “Second Life gives me a better relationship that I have in real life. This is where I feel most myself. Jade accepts who I am. My relationship with Jade makes it possible for me to stay in my marriage, with my family.
  • A teenager who says he has to respond to texts in ten minutes max, “I will tell you how it is at this school. If something comes in our our phone and it’s a text, you feel you have to respond…Few people can look down at their phone and then walk away from it. Few people do that….Texting is pressure. I don’t always feel like communicating. Who says that we always have to be ready to communicate?”

My basic approach to technology these days is this: I love it, but we can’t pretend it’s anything other than value neutral. It is affecting our society in enormous ways, and while many of them are grand, many of them are also serious and potentially problematic. Increasingly, such questions present significant ethical dilemmas that people of faith must speak to carefully. Alone Together is a mighty fine layperson’s introduction to where we are as a technological and social media society. Sherry Turkle understands that “children must grow up in their own generation,” that technology is here to stay. But Turkle also knows that technology isn’t our savior either.

 

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Slow coffee, slow Internet, slow everything

Originally posted at the Gathering Voices blog

A recent story on NPR’s All Things Considered explored a curious new craze: the slow internet movement. In hipster enclaves like the coffeehouse Drip in Washington, D.C., counter-cultural types are claiming a more calming and intentional way of enjoying the Internet by using slow 28.8K connect speeds. Drip brews each cup of coffee individually (slowly), and they sell time on their slow dial-up computers for $1 per hour. Their motto: “Slow coffee, slow internet, slow everything.” Related to Alice Waters’ “slow food movement,” these folks say they want to experience the Internet in the same way they experience a slow intentional well-paced meal. One scientist even says that slow Internet speeds affect people’s brainwaves in ways similar to meditation. That’s what the NPR story reported, at least, on April 1.

I bought it hook, line, and sinker. April Fools’ on me.

I wanted the story to be true. Even as I caught the “mistake” introduction to the scientist who teaches at the “University of Southern Minnesota Duluth campus” (which doesn’t exist and never would since Duluth is up north), I longed for his claims about enjoying the Internet slowly to be true. Personally, I can’t stand slow Internet connection speeds. But, I hoped some folks had found a way to rise above my eagerness.

There’s a number of ways to read this April Fools’ trickery. Sure, some people will complain about a legit news show making fake news, even for one day a year. Others will take the Internet point — our quest for faster and faster Internet to save us time just makes us busier and busier. As Sherry Turkle has written, as we seek connectedness via technology we also risk losing the joys of actual embodied togetherness (I’ll review Turkle’s book “Together Alone” soon). But, here’s another take: the NPR story brought out the benefits of counter-cultural movements.

Even though I enjoy my smartphone, I totally respect people who eschew smartphones – even cell phones at all. Even though my music is in iTunes, I love an old-fashioned record collection. Even though I find solace in traditional hymns, I appreciate a brand new praise song that helps someone else connect to God in ways I don’t often experience.

For me, the NPR story was exciting because it suggested that some people are pushing-back on our need for speedy Internet, but also our need for constant contact and connection. Our society needs that type of person who, often from the edges of the culture, calls into question what others value so much.

In fact, the NPR story reminds me of the tradition of “Holy Fools,” jesters and oddballs who, through their pranks and silliness, reveal a larger truth that’s difficult to address through everyday interactions. These fools for Christ, through disruptive behavior, through mockery and vulgarity, get at the true uncomfortable nature of the gospel and the oddity to which we are called. Thank you, NPR, for reminding me of my Christian duty to respond to the foolishness of the cross.

image by Leslie Wong

Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com


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