There’s so much excitement going on in the Church right now. Too bad, just like in the media, that the stories that often get passed along have to do with the negatives–”society is degrading”; “homosexuals are taking over the church”; “we’ve got to save our children from this corrupt generation”. I live in Florida, which is a generous mix of cultures, politics, social stratospheres and the like. If you can think up some name for a church, we probably have it within a stone’s throw. What is easy to see is that there are many things that divide us, but as a Presbyterian, I’m always looking for ways that we are connected. Doing some community work to bring folks together has not been easy, especially when a few want to highlight the divides.
A Young Adult Ministry Proposal
We believe existing PC USA churches can have staying power and emerging ways of doing church will have staying power too. Below is a proposal, written by Young Adults, for Young Adults in the Presbytery of East Tennessee (PET). Conversations began and ideas began to form…we would love comments and reactions as well as hear what others are already trying to do.
Problem:The link below was taken off the PC USA website after doing a search for Young Adults. It puts words to what many of us have been experiencing and know from our local congregations in the Presbytery of East Tennessee (PET).
Study: most young adults drop out of Protestant churches
Solution: The hope is that this Gap Ministry proposal, detailed below, will be the Presbytery of East TN’s response to these trends for Young Adults in our churches.
Sacred Space: Why I’m Bi-Vocational
My sacred space is a cafe. It’s the cafe where I work three shifts a week, serving coffee, tea, smoothies, and baked goods to the variety of people who come through our doors. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s one of the local independent cafes in our part of Pittsburgh that attracts the graduate students, the internationals, the professors, and the eclectic and eccentric assortment of characters who inhabit Squirrel Hill. And it’s sacred space for me precisely because the people around me there aren’t all other Christians. In fact, most are unchurched or de-churched. And I love them. As one who experiences God when I’m engaged in mission, I see the Holy Spirit at work when I’m around people who are just starting to get to know Jesus. The cafe becomes sacred space for me every time I have a deep conversation with a coworker or listen to a regular customer share their life-story. The relationships I’ve been able to develop with co-workers and customers are sacred relationships. Some people talk to their barista they way one does to the proverbial bartender, and at times I feel like taking off my shoes because I know I’m on holy ground when someone opens up to me.
I’m a pastor, but I sometimes say the place where I do the most real ministry is the cafe. On the surface, I’m “bi-vocational” (working half-time for our church and part-time at the cafe), but I don’t really see any separation between my two jobs. There’s been some good conversation recently in the PC(USA) about tentmaking, or bi-vocational ministry, as a viable option for more and more pastors and congregations. The reason most often given seems to be financial: a church can’t afford a full-time pastor, so the pastor gets another job. I applaud other pastors who do this, but I think the conversation needs to get beyond the financial reasons for tentmaking. Here are the reasons why I chose to be bi-vocational: (1) Mission – As a new church development pastor, my “second” job gives me an entryway into the community. Every day I meet people who would normally never set foot inside a church. And wherever I’m meeting them is exactly where I’m called to be. (2) Leading by Example -Working a second job that’s not explicitly a “ministry” vocation also gives me an opportunity to teach and model for members of my church how we as disciples can find meaning in our “ordinary” jobs. Our churches are filled with people who are discontent with their work and who rarely think of their jobs as places where they can participate in the Kingdom of God. How much of that disconnect is the result of an over-professionalization of clergy? What would it look like to really reflect in our lives the truth that almost any job can be used to serve God?
Early this morning I met my co-pastor and another friend for coffee in my sacred space. This afternoon I’ll return and work for four hours, looking forward to whatever conversations God brings my way. In between I’ll do a little “church work”, but in reality there’s no separation between the two – each job complements and enriches the other. Whether on church time or cafe time, I work and pray, and I look for Christ’s presence in the breaking of bread and the pouring of coffee.
Rebuilding the Presbyterian Establishment: A Comment
I finally got around to a careful read through of Beau Weston’s essay Rebuilding the Presbyterian Establishment which has received quite a bit of criticism from Presbymergent folks with whom I regularly interact. I started posting a couple of quick blog posts here and here, but they turned into a far bigger critical analysis. I post this here with the hope that it will 1) help the various conversations, and 2) save others some time in their analyses as I quite frankly do not perceive this discussion to be of the greatest importance to the life of the church in this hour of our life together. My reasoning for this judgment is, I think, clear enough in this document. Freely distribute to other discussion groups and presbyteries in the church as is useful and helpful.
Peace.
On Rebuilding the Presbyterian Establishment: A Comment – Andrew Tatusko
A Poetic-Practice Proposal for Presbymergent
At Presbymergent’s recent gathering of the Coordinating Group (Feb. 17—19, 2009) someone mentioned the book, Outliers; the Story of Success, by Malcolm Gladwell. On my plane ride home (to Spokane, Washington), I spied the title in the Louisville airport, bought the text and began reading. As you may know, the gist of the best-seller is that “success” has been misconstrued. In fact, the journey toward a successful career or an acclaimed accomplishment has less to do with innate ability than we may have imagined. And so, I take heart. Connections, synergetic connections, among the participants of Presbymergent abound, and that, more than anything else, may be the key to our potential success in serving God.
And yet, allow me to offer this caveat. In chapter seven of Outliers, Gladwell chronicles the failed communication between Avianca Flight 052 and the traffic control tower of Kennedy airport. That excerpt too may be instructive for Presbymergent. Here’s the gist of what took place in January of 1990: the captain and first officer knew that their 707 was running low on fuel. However, instead of transmitting the dire nature of their circumstance, the Columbian pilots deferred to those brash-speaking controllers on the ground. Rather than emphatically demanding to land the plane immediately, their nonchalant description of the emergency—evidently pilots often say that they’re running low on fuel—led to a catastrophic crash into the estate of John McEnroe. “Thank you very much” were the last words of the first officer as Flight 052 maintained its dutiful holding pattern.
Now, here is the parallel that I would like to make with Presbymergent and the Presbyterian Church (USA): Between those who Twitter and those who do not, communication breaks down. Between those who regularly blog and those who do not, there is an intimidation factor that must be considered carefully as we move forward. Without disavowing or disabusing people of their technology, I propose that we begin to practice a disciplined poetic style of interacting with one another. I don’t mean that we discipline ourselves to speak in rhyme or even iambic pentameter, but that we carry on conversations based upon our contextual experience. That is, let’s begin to say things and to hear things that break through the thickening skin of the Emergent Village subculture. Let’s renounce the incessant tendency we may have to quote the ecclesial expert and let’s truly traffic in the lingo of the vulnerable and broken theo-babblers that we are.
One of the most compelling conversations that we had in Louisville took place at a pub on Thursday evening. I was tired and ready to go home, but a woman from Judd’s church simply asked us to tell why we’re so passionate about serving God. Each person then shared a vivid story of some loss, some trauma or some life-emergency, that precipitated and preceded the call of the Spirit. My sense is that we need Presbymergent to function like Theology On Tap, and that everyone should have the chance to contribute a poetic and authentic verse. If one verse is left out, or is conveniently ignored, or is not honored, Presbymergent will not become the dialogue we had hoped it could be.
An Open Letter to My Congregation
The following is a letter that I sent to my “existing” PC(USA) congregation this week. My church—like many within the PC(USA) is filled with people who often do not share the same politics or social worldview. Because it so often succumbs to the whims of a culture that tries to divide and create dichotomies the Existing Church has struggled when it comes to understanding how to deal with deep divisions. I believe the Emerging Church represents a Third Way. Hopefully this letter helped to demonstrate that.
Grace and Peace to You All,
Election 2008 has finally come to an end. For those of us who have been suffering from election fatigue these past few weeks, it’s a welcome relief, to tell you the truth.
But now, after months and months of being made aware of all the ways Americans seem to be divided, we will begin to hear (and quite rightly) that we must come together. In president-elect Obama’s victory speech last night he spoke directly to this when he quoted Abraham Lincoln, who also presided over a divided nation. “We are not enemies but friends,” Lincoln said after the Civil War, “though passion may have strained…it must not break our bonds of affection.” These are fine words. We can’t escape the sense of history in that they were spoken by an African-American who has been elected President of the United States in Lincoln’s home state, and in Chicago, the very city where Lincoln won the nomination for President. They are fine words, and historic. But the road to unity is going to be difficult, and there are many among us who are anxious and fearful of what lies ahead.
As the Church, the Body of Christ, we need to lead the way in the healing that must begin after such a long and contentious political season. How can we do this? We can first recognize that as the Church we are called to “unity in diversity,” through the power of the Spirit of Christ in us and all around us. The Body of Christ is diverse. There are people in our own church—the First Presbyterian Church of Eustis—who probably voted for different candidates. There are members and friends of our congregation who gather together each Sunday for worship, sing together in the choir and serve side by side in mission and ministry, who may not agree at all when it comes to politics. I know that today I am the pastor of a church where some of my flock are rejoicing over the victory of president-elect Barack Obama, and some are not.
Twitter of Faith
Legend has it that one afternoon on November 22nd, Presbymergent founder and about-to-be-ordained-minister Adam Walker Cleaveland was trying to come up with a statement of faith for his Ordination service. So he did the usual thing any 20-something uber geek would do…he asked his twitter friends how long a statement of faith should be?
After many responses of the usual sort (one page, two page, red page, blue page) fellow presby-geek (and World of Warcraft guru) Shawn Coons tweeted back : “instead of a statement of faith, how about a twitter of faith? Anyone else up to the challenge?” And so it began…
Here’s the challenge:
- If you’re not on twitter yet, click here to see what it’s all about and why you should be.
- If you’re on twitter (or just joined), log in and tweet your personal statement of faith…in 140 characters or less.
- Add the hashtag #TOF somewhere in your tweet. That will actually make it 136 characters, but it also makes it easy for us to find and compile all of these statements.
- Encourage your friends to take the “Twitter of Faith” challenge, too – imagine how cool it would be if this meme spreads, proclaiming the gospel across the internets (well, at least across twitter).
UPDATE: Adam, Mark, Chad, Wendy, Cobus, Matthew, Makeesha, Geoff, Adele, Drew, Cameron, Dan, Greg, John, Ryan, Angela, John, Greg, Molly, Matt, Dave Zimmerman from InterVarsity Press, and our distinguished moderator, Bruce Reyes-Chow, have all posted this to their blogs. If you blog it, let us know in the comments so we can link to it here, and feel free to use the above image (designed by Adam) for your post.
UPDATE: There’s now a facebook page and corresponding event, too. Even if you’re not on Twitter, you can click here to scroll through the many TOFs that have been filling up the web in the past few hours.
Pure Kingdom – Finding and Emergent Eschatology
I was born with glaucoma, an eye disease that can result in blindness that typically only afflicts the elderly. I read once that only 1 in 100,000 infants have the propensity to be born with glaucoma. Pretty slim odds, to be sure. Still, I was born with it. When the genes and chromosomes of my parents joined forces the resulting union contained a blight, and that blight nearly left me blind.
The surgery to save my sight was very new in 1969, and only two doctors in the United States were doing it. Funny. It’s outpatient surgery now, but then it was pretty serious and fairly experimental. After all was said and done, I ended up legally blind in one eye—which is better than how things could have turned out, but not ideal. Though I am legally blind in my right eye, I can still see things like shadows, colors and shapes that I can sometimes identify. It’s a whole lot better than nothing, I suppose. Because of its blindness, my right eye tends to wander a bit, and wants to peer in all directions. When I was young, the eye doctors told my parents it had to do with the muscles around my eye, and how they weren’t going to develop properly. Consequently, I grew up dealing with a slightly crossed eye, a malady that resulted in some teasing, a few wonderful nick-names (Cross-Eyed Freak, is my fave) and more than one ruined school picture.
The Offering: An Emergent Theology Tale
I have had more than my fair share of days when I have questioned my call to be a pastor. I read somewhere how a young man, who was thinking about becoming a pastor, asked his mentor—a pastor of many years—”When did you feel the call to go into ministry?” The older man didn’t bat an eyelash and replied, “This morning.”
I completely get that. There are days when I feel like I need to hear the call every five minutes just to assure me that I am doing what I am supposed to do with my life. Even when people tell me things that should reassure me, I struggle to believe that God would actually want to use someone like me for such an important task. I once heard that the great reformer, Martin Luther, used to feel as though the earth was going to open up and swallow him whole each time he rose to say the Mass. That comforts me a bit, really. If Martin Luther felt himself to be unworthy of his call, then at least I am in good company. Martin Luther also swore like a sailor and loved beer, which is also pretty comforting.
For the past few years I have felt a longing in me that has been difficult to define and impossible to quench. You see, God, in God’s infinite wisdom and mercy, has seen fit for me to serve in the Presbyterian Church (USA)–a Christian denomination that has been (like most mainline Protestant denominations) in decline for decades. My more conservative colleagues from not-mainline denominations gleefully point this out at every available opportunity—God love ‘em. Once I had a fellow pastor from a conservative, evangelical church inform me over lunch that in his opinion the real moment when the PC(USA) fell into ruin was when it began ordaining women.
“That’s where it all started,” he told me in sage-like fashion. “And now look what’s happening… you’re ordaining them.” I asked what he meant by “them” and he replied, “You know…homosexuals.”
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Existing/Emerging Leadership: The Saga Continues
A few months ago I wrote short essay that was published on this site entitled “Living In Two Worlds: Existing/Emerging Leadership.” Somehow the essay got into the hands of Eilleen Lindner, an author and Presbyterian minister who offered a presentation at an Ecumenical & Interfaith Network gathering in 2007. She read from my essay (among others) as part of a presentation that she did on “Post Denominational Identities and Emerging Ecclesiologies.” Her title was better, I must admit. I also have to admit that it was kind of nice to be noticed. Mind you, there are no literary agents pounding down my door to offer me a book deal (Seriously…Anyone know a literary agent? Anyone?), but the realization that someone responded to what I wrote and actually discussed it was gratifying.
That little essay was born out of the struggle that I was going through at the time as I began to identify more with Emergent or Missional theology and ecclesiology and sought to lead the church to which I was called accordingly. At the time, the church I was serving could be defined as containing both “emerging” and “existing” traits. On Sunday mornings the existing aspect of my church met for worship, and on Sunday evenings there was an emergent worship gathering/community that regularly met in the same space. These communities could not have been any different, but they both formed and informed one another in interesting and exciting ways. It was good to reflect on my struggle as an emerging leader in an existing church, though. Because of that time of reflection I came to understand that in many ways I was embodying the very struggle in which my church had become engaged. My efforts to put my feelings into words was a part of that struggle—an effort to write a story that was far from complete. But there was something unsatisfying in that effort, to be honest. It felt like I (and to some extent my church as well) had come to the end of a chapter, but didn’t know how to finish the last sentence in a way that felt good and right. We had both come a long way, but not far enough.
In the end, neither one of us could put a period at the end of that sentence. [Read more...]
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