State of the mission – one year later

Fellow San Diegan Jason Evans wrote a thought-provoking piece the other day on missional discernement. It’s good stuff, as usual, from a talented leader. You should read it.

I do have some thoughts on what he wrote regarding being missional, but I’ll share those in more depth later. His post comes at an interesting time for me: today marks one year since announcing the close of our missional church plant, Ikon Community, and that has prompted me to conduct a little ‘missional discernment’ of my own:

What is the status of our ‘mission’ one year after closing our official ministry?

I’ve finally settled into a post-ministry career

Unlike a lot of planters, I didn’t seek to be bi-vocational. For better and for worse I decided to become an entirely non-professional minister. I was (and still remain) convinced that the future of professional ministry in the United States is grim at best, and problematic for trying to connect with post-Christian groups.

But for 2.5 years, and all during our church planting effort, I worked feverishly in vain to find a new career after 12 years in professional ministry. It was more than frustrating, it was humiliating.

Then, not long after closing Ikon, a new opportunity presented itself at my workplace. I’ve been in that new role for 7 months now and I’m hopeful about our family’s fiscal prospects for the first time in years.

Another funny irony is that I am now, essentially, a professional fundraiser – exactly the task I dreaded most while trying to plant a missional church. I went from struggling to raise $40,000 a year for the church plant, to being responsible for raising $9 million a year for a local nonprofit.

(As an aside, what I have learned about fundraising in the last 17 months has immensely impacted my perspective on how we could be funding missional work. There is a great deal missional leaders could learn from the nonprofit sector. Moreover: there is a gigantic window of opportunity to capture massive amounts of wealth as it is transferred from one generation to the next. And that window is rapidly closing; that transfer is happening right now. Churches in particular are doing a poor job of securing that wealth, and by all accounts the next two generations won’t have nearly as much disposable wealth to give.)

We’ve finally settled into our local community

For 2.5 years we really struggled to connect with people. But almost immediately after shutting down Ikon, local relationships began to open up to us in a remarkable way. In fact, in this past year, our family has somehow gained a larger and deeper network of friends than we’ve ever had in our entire lives – mostly with people in our neighborhood.

I recently had lunch with a local church planter and I mentioned this curious development. He asked, “Why do you think this happened immediately after closing your church plant?” I answered, “Because we don’t have an agenda for people anymore.”

And it’s true, we really don’t. At least, not a one-sided agenda for enlisting them into our own little fiefdom. I definitely have a personal interest: I want their friendship, and I want to give them mine. I deeply desire the fraternity and equality reciprocity brings to neighbors.

Almost none of them attend church – certainly none of them are committed to any kind of faith community – and, to be honest, I have no interest in converting them. The idea alone feels like a form of betrayal.

Also, I’ve been humbled by the quality of their community. By and large, Jenell and I agree that these people do friendship and community better than any church we’ve ever been in. I’ve come to realize it is a conceit of the church that we are the authority on ‘true community’, and it may very well be a particular conceit of the missional/emerging church. Just as with nonprofit fundraising, I think Christians have a great deal to learn from secular communities on this matter.

I am starting to gain an interest in Jesus again

In my conclusion to the missional postmortem, I said I needed to learn how to be a Christian without getting paid for it. Well, I still haven’t. My personal faith has been radically stripped. I could write whole books on what I don’t believe anymore, but would struggle to fill a fortune cookie with what I do.

Yet, recently I’m experiencing an interest in Jesus again. In fact, I work with people of all kinds of faiths, and I’m more convinced than ever that we could all learn a great deal about life and love from Christ, regardless of our creed.

Along those lines, our family has started sporadically attending a local Presbyterian church. The place is so uncool it makes me want to weep for joy. Like Lewis once said, a good liturgy should be like lacing up an old shoe; you hardly notice it’s there – which is exactly what I need right now.

So, what is the state of our ‘mission’?

Well, in some ways, I suspect, it’s better than ever. In other ways, not so much. I successfully transitioned out of the professional side of ministry, but dropped ministry along the way. We’ve connected with an unchurched community, but have no desire to get them ‘churched.’ I’m more committed to Jesus, but less committed to Christianity.

Actually, I really am more keenly aware than ever that different Christian groups mean subtly but significantly different things by the word ‘mission’. For now, suffice it to say that our ‘mission’ is simply to be decent people; that is, good partners, good parents, good friends and good neighbors.

As far as that goes, I think we’re doing alright.

Technorati Tags: Ikon Community, missional

Missional postmortem: Conclusions

It’s been 5 months. I’ve taken my time with this postmortem because it’s been tough to separate my emotions from my observations, but after stepping away from blogging (and from my faith) for Lent, the time has come to wrap this up.

For those who aren’t up to speed, here are the series installments:

• So when does the fruitfulness begin?
• Ikon timeline
• Intentionally unorthodox decisions that may have led to morbidity
• Complicating factors and personal reflections
• Some personal struggles, part 1
• Some personal struggles, part 2

These posts apparently struck a nerve. I’m grateful for the long list of people who wrote. Most of those correspondences were private, but a few were public and added significantly to the insights I was trying to capture:

• Jamie Arpin-Ricci: Surviving Missional
• David Fitch: Death of a Church Plant – Some Reflections and Hope for the Future of Missional Church Planting
• Everyday Mission (Mike Bishop): An Open Letter to Jason Coker

My sincere and humble thanks to all who have written.

Conclusions
Why did Ikon fail? Why after about a year of strong momentum did we experience a fairly rapid loss of energy and decline? There are, I think, a few essential reasons:

1. We didn’t have partners.
Over the 18 months we gathered we had at least three individuals or couples who expressed some level of interest in joining me and Jenell as leaders – but the timing just wasn’t right for any of them. Moreover, ultimately everyone lived too far apart to spend much time together and everyone (including us) was too busy working and raising kids to commit the time necessary to build the strong sense of community that might bring this about.

If I could do it again: I would hold off calling our gathering a “church plant” (or anything) until there was a small core of truly committed people – even if that took years. In fact, I think Ikon would still be meeting if I hadn’t impatiently raised the stakes by declaring we were going to become a “church.” Doing so prematurely increased the pressure on everyone, especially on myself and my wife.

2. We didn’t have an aesthetic element of worship
I’m a good teacher, and I can facilitate contemplative practices – but that’s not enough to enrich most people’s spiritual lives. The absence of this element in our gatherings took a toll on all of us.

If I could do it again: See #1. By prematurely calling our gig a church plant, I elicited an expectation for “worship” in people. It would have been better to wait until we had the gifts we needed to fill out a church mission. We should have just gathered, dialogued, laughed, played, broken bread, drank wine, and made some waves by serving in the community now and again…in short, we should have just had fun being a fringy group that didn’t have to be defined until enough people came along who had the gift mix and commitment to be more.

3. I ceased to be a disciple
Three years ago when I left my job as an Executive Pastor in a large church I set out to become a non-professional pastor – what I found out was I didn’t know how to be a non-professional Christian.

As a pastor, I loved spending all my time, energy, and thoughts on my faith. I loved going to my office every day of the week. I loved the pace, the studying, the constant contemplation of theology, the time for prayer, the counseling of distraught people, and, most of all, the preaching in front of attentive crowds. I loved doing this for a living. It was a great life.

But I’ve discovered that was a privileged life that shared little in common with the people I led.

I’ve found it is incredibly difficult to be that kind of Christian when you’re not getting paid for it. When I work 50 hours or so a week (at one or several jobs), and have a family to attend to, and constantly stress about not being able to pay the bills, it’s incredibly hard to spend time reading scripture, or being attentive to the work of God around me, or think in a disciplined way about theology, or be involved in a ministry… or even pray meaningfully.

So, I didn’t do much of any of that. After about a year of leading the group that way I simply ran out of steam. I’d lost my spiritual depth and that, coupled with the professional and financial difficulties I encountered, led to a pretty severe crisis of faith.

If I could do it again: I wouldn’t. Frankly, I don’t have any business leading any kind of discipleship group until I’ve learned to be a disciple myself (without getting paid for it).

What’s next?
I really don’t know. What’s interesting is that while I’ve had very little favor with the church effort, I have had tremendous favor in my professional life in the last 10 months since getting hired on by my current employer. Last week I was offered a promotion to a high level position in the organization, which I’ve accepted and that new job will be completely engrossing, so it’s hard to imagine being involved in any kind of ministry effort on the side. Maybe that is the direction God has for me.

So I’ll work and wait – and try to learn to be a Christian again.

Technorati Tags: Ikon, missional, Missional Postmortem, postmortem

From Seeker Sensitive to Seeker Generating

“Seeker-sensitive” churches made a big splash in the 1990′s, lead by Willow Creek, with a great concern and care for helping people find God. This was generally accomplished by creating a worship atmosphere that was relevant to contemporary culture in order to provide a seamless transition from the secular world to the sacred world. The motto, via Donald McGavran, was “Nobody should have to cross cultures in order to find God.” Thanks to Willow Creek, and its clones, people were able to come and see God in a way that added sacred meaning to their beloved secular forms of soft-rock music and the corporate-marketing culture of success. It was church the church of Madison Avenue. Of course, during the 1990′s many of the more traditionally-minded churches and leaders vilified this approach, seeing it as a kind of “watering down” of the gospel message.

What the traditional churches and leaders didn’t realize was that seeker sensitive churches were the logical extension of the very form of Christendom they had passed down. Both traditional and seeker-sensitive churches assume that Christ is at the center of cultural and that God is to be found within the gates of the central palace (so to speak) that is the walls of the church. Hence, people must come to church to find God.

But during the early years of postmodernism the markers of Christendom were being rejected – religious heritage, religious symbolism, and Judeo-Christian socio-political norms – which resulted in a cognitive dissonance between those who might still want to “find God” and the keepers of the message who were still primarily speaking through the liturgies, music, and symbols of a rejected culture. In other words, “church” in it’s older forms no longer made sense. The emerging Church leaders – that is, the baby-boomer children of the traditionalists – still essentially wanted what the traditionalists wanted: God at the center of culture (perhaps even more so), but they realized that emerging generations were rejecting those symbols and traditions (as were they). Therefore, they created churches that stripped these symbols away. Seekers of God, then, could go to church to “find God” in a friendly and accessible culture that utilized recognizable idioms like soft-rock inspired worship music, entertainment-based media, and corporate-styled cafes.

Missional churches reject the most fundamental assumption underlying all of this; that Christ is the center of human culture and power. Eddie Gibbs has referred to this turn as “seeker generating churches.”

We are no longer in the business of welcoming “seekers,” or even stimulating the latent “seeking” tendencies in the otherwise pluralistic population, Rather, we are the seekers. We are not the custodians of the Kingdom. Rather, the Kingdom is the reign of God produced by a missionary God who is “at work to this very day” in the world around us. Therefore, our task is to go out and seek to find where God is already “at work” in the community and the world around us and, wherever we find God at work, to join God in that work.

Our task is to be seekers of the Kingdom and to generate new seekers of the Kingdom among us.

Questions:

1. To what extent has our culture in North America already rejected Christ at the center of culture? To what extent is Christ still at the center?
2. What can we do to most effectively generate seekers of the Kingdom among us?
3. To what extend should we still be prepared to receive “seekers” in the Christendom sense?

Technorati Tags: Donald McGavran, missional, Seeker generating, Seeker Sensitive

The Parable of the Royal Invitations

(This parable was originally my contribution to the discussion of re-imagining Vineyard values over at Jason Clark’s blog, Deep Church. My task was to re-imagine the value, “Come as you are, but don’t stay as you are.” I’m re-posting it here just to add it to my own archives.)

Once there was a royal family who loved their people and ran their city as best they knew how.

They were generous, so they threw regular parties at their royal mansion in the center of town with all the best food, wine, art, and music. It was quite a spectacle. Because most people were fairly poor compared to the royals, everyone wanted to come to rub shoulders with the powerful elite and be influenced by them and, perhaps, gain a little power for themselves. Pretty soon, these parties were so popular that only certain people, from certain families, and dressed in certain fine clothes could gain entrance.

In time, however, the royal family fell on difficult days and lost some of their wealth. The local economy changed, and many of the “common” families made their own fortunes. Many still respected the royals for their heritage, but being royal wasn’t as prestigious as it once was, and truth be told, many resented them for their power. And so, fewer and fewer people wanted to come to their parties. There were other parties being thrown by newly-wealthy families and people seemed less interested in queuing up or wearing pretentious clothes.

Sensing they were losing their power, and desperate to revive their status, the King struck upon an idea: They sold all their fancy furniture and bought affordable Ikea tables and chairs just like the common folks and dressed in jeans and un-tucked Hawaiian shirts. Then they sent out party invitations to the whole city. The invitation read:

“Come as you are, but don’t stay as you are.”

The idea was that everyone would feel perfectly “at home” in the royal residence, and in so doing could, in a way, become like a royal family member too and be changed for the better by the influence of the royal family.

It worked beautifully.

Some still wanted to be like the royals, so wearing the same clothes and sitting on the same affordable furniture made it seem, for a time, like everyone actually was royal. Many people flooded back into the royal mansion and everything returned to normal.

Or so it seemed. In reality, the economic and political landscape was still steadily changing – and with it, the royals gradually lost all their political power until one day the family was overthrown and evicted from their mansion at the center of the city. To some, these seemed like the hardest times they had ever experienced.

At first the old King was determined to gain back their status because he thought that was the only way to continue taking good care of the city. “How can we do what’s best for them if we’re no longer in charge?” he asked. So he decided to keep throwing their once-famous parties right there in their ramshackle hut on the outskirts of town. He rallied all the sons and daughters and aunts and uncles to paint the plywood walls and sweep the dirt floors and they sent out invitations to the whole city, which still read: “Come as you are, but don’t stay as you are.” And they waited.

But nobody came.

For most folks, going to a party on the poor outskirts of town was plainly absurd. And what was all this about “Don’t stay as you are”? People thought it arrogant that the family still believed they had something to offer. Truth be told, they thought the royals were merely trying to win back their place of power and prestige.

Then one night the old King was struck by a realization. So he gathered the old party invitations, scrawled something inside them, and addressed one to each member of his family. The next day at breakfast he carefully handed out the invitations and said, “Our family has been called to care for this city – wealthy or poor, powerful or weak – and there has never been a better time to do so.” At that, everyone opened their envelope and saw that the old invitation, now given to each of them, had been changed:

“Go as you are, but don’t stay as you are.”

And with that each member of the royal family understood that the time for asking people to come had passed, and that it was they who would now be changed.

Technorati Tags: Deep Church, Jason Clark, missional, Parables, Vineyard Community of Churches

Communities of the Spirit: Untamed, Chapter 3

(During the month of April I’m blogging through Alan and Deb Hirsch’s latest book, Untamed. Previous posts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2)

Chapter 3: The Spirit’s Edge

This chapter came at an interesting time for me, because I’m thinking through some of the very issues they broach. Is it necessary to have a sense of direct contact with God? What is our normative form of relationship with God? For the Hirsch’s part of the response to these kinds of questions would be to re-affirm the necessity of a fully Trinitarian encounter with God. Hence, this chapter commends the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives as disciples:

“One of the foundational works of the Spirit is to usher us into the true knowledge and experience of God. Said differently: if there was no Holy Spirit, there would be no possibility of encounter with God, because it is the Spirit who mediates the knowledge of God and thereby leads us into truth and righteousness (John 16:5–11). And because the Spirit brings us into deeper awareness of, and conformity to, the one true God, he keeps us from becoming toxic.”

By “true knowledge” the authors don’t mean “secret knowledge.” Rather, they mean relational knowledge, or intimacy. For example, some people know things about my wife Jenell, but I really know my wife better than anyone – and that knowledge only comes from direct contact. The author’s point in this Chapter is the same: we cannot know God without contact with the Holy Spirit, for the Spirit is the point of contact in our relationship with God.

Moreover, we cannot have contact with the Holy Spirit without letting the Spirit be wild and unpredictable. It comes with the territory. To illustrate this, the Hirsch’s open this chapter with a story from Al’s early life as a Christian when some very Pentecostal new friends prayed for him to receive the Holy Spirit, complete with tongues, cursing of the devil, and shaking. All very strange stuff to someone not accustomed to such things. Indeed, Al wanted to run out the door.

But.

Something happened. Al made life-changing, perceptible contact with God through that encounter, and although he wouldn’t recommend the particular way that happened for everyone, he can’t deny the authenticity of his encounter with the Holy Spirit or it’s transformational effects on his life. That is what he does recommend to everyone. In fact, together Alan and Deb say it’s necessary.

And that leads me to a bit of an objection: Despite their characteristically strong emphasis on the Holy Spirit and direct contact with God, from my perspective it is precisely the excessively Pentecostal streams of Christianity that prove most “toxic.” I’m thinking here of the kind of Jesus-is-your vending-machine, there’s a devil-behind-every-door triumphalistic Pentecostalism that seeks to control both people and God. I can tell you from personal experience this kind of Christianity is quite rampant.

Granted, in this Chapter (and elsewhere in the book) the Hirsch’s warn against this form of Christianity as well, calling it “spiritual engineering.” In fact, one of the things the authors rightly point out is that both Pentecostalism and Cessasionist Fundamentalism are manifestations of the same desire for power and control (some would say they share a foundationalist heritage – one biased toward experience of God, the other toward the Bible). Still, I’m not sure they do enough to develop clear distinctions between classic Pentecostalism and the kind of Holy Spirit led, transformational pneumatology they seem to have in mind. My question is: How is it that your kind of focus on the Holy Spirit will lead to reliable Christlikeness when other kinds have not?

What they do say, very clearly, is that we need both the “light” and “heat” of the revealed word and divine experience, but we must learn to relinquish control to God, particularly as God pushes His mission forward through the wild, spontaneous, uncontrollable forays of the Holy Spirit. In this sense, their distinction seems to be twofold: an embrace of a peacemaking “radical middle” position that affirms the best of both, coupled with an emphasis on relinquishing control.

(As an aside, this “radical middle” approach has been at the core of Vineyard philosophy for over 30 years. For those who are interested I would recommend Empowered Evangelicals by Rich Nathan and Ken Wilson.)

While they don’t detail a distinctive pneumatology, they do outline some characteristics they believe would be present in any community of faith that was missionally engaged with the leading of the Holy Spirit:

• Serious creativity
• Risky mission
• Communitas (Community with intense common purpose)
• Lots of little Jesuses
• Love
• Learning community
• Miracles
• Spiritual maturity
• Discernment
• Unity around Jesus
• Ecstasy and intimacy
• Transformation and liberation

Each of these are briefly expounded upon in the book, but it’s clear the authors aren’t seeking an exhaustive list. Instead, they seem to be trying to sketch out a sense that authentically Spirit-led communities will have a depth and breadth about them that is often missing from current denominational sectarian streams.

Questions for Reflection:

1. What is your experience with the Holy Spirit?
2. Have you experienced versions of Christianity that seemed to seek control of others or of God?  How did you handle that?
3. What kinds of Christians have you encountered that most resembled Christ? What did those people have in common with one another?

Technorati Tags: Alan Hirsch, Christianity, Church, Deb Hirsch, mission, missional, Untamed

What Does The Gospel Really Look Like?

What does the gospel really look like in practice, on the ground, in the city, walking the streets, in the boardrooom and the legislative session, among the neighborhoods and schools of North America?

That was essentially the question asked by JR Woodward last year of 50 missional church practitioners, including myself. What would you write about the good news in your local paper if given the opportunity?

The 50 responses have now been collected and published in a wonderful little book called ViralHope: Good News From The Urbs to the Burbs and Everything In Between. It was humbling to contribute my small chapter to this book as many of the other men and women featured on the pages are people I have admired and emulated for years. Others I’m just discovering and getting to know. As Alan Hirsch writes in his endorsement of the book:

“ViralHope is a unique and enticing collection of postcards from a veritable who’s who of the missional church from across the Western world. It provides us with articulate and varied perspectives on how missionaries to the West are conceiving the good news in and for their various contexts. A worthy read.”

ViralHope would make a fantastic 50-day personal devotion, small group study reflection, or church-wide reading series. You can click here to get your own copy from Amazon.

Technorati Tags: Books, Christianity, Good News, Gospel, JR Woodward, missional, Missional Church, ViralHope

The Danger of Worship: Untamed, Chapter Two

(During the month of April I’m blogging through Alan and Deb Hirsch’s latest book, Untamed. Previous posts: Chapter 1)

Your sincerity is not enough. Everyone is sincere, but there is a real-live God, with real-live thoughts, values, and expectations that exclude other thoughts, values, and expectations as possibilities of goodness.

If the first chapter of Deb and Alan Hirsch’s latest book, Untamed, concerned the re-affirmation of a personally accessible God, then the second Chapter wants us to know that God is dangerous. Moreover, as history’s slew of cult leaders and televangelists attest, it is also dangerous to miss the truth about that God. Such false prophets are very sincere about their faith, as Martin Buber has noted:

“False prophets are not godless. Rather, they adore the god “success.” They themselves are in constant need of success and achieve it by promising it to the people. But they do honestly want success for the people. The craving for success governs their hearts and determines what rises from them. That is what Jeremiah called the “deceit of their own hearts.” They do not deceive; they are deceived, and can only breathe in the air of deceit.”

This means getting the “fundamentals” about God right, but before you make the mistake of hearing a re-hashing of fundamentalism here, you must understand what the Hirsch’ mean by this term; for them, the fundamentals refer to being like Christ:

“We easily lose focus on what is essential. We miss the fact that discipleship has to do with becoming like Jesus, living the Shema, and not forgetting that the “more important matters of the law,” namely love, mercy, forgiveness, justice (Matt. 23:23–24), are nonnegotiables in the equation.”

This is in sharp contrast to the fundamentals of fundamentalism, which are unquestionable, universally certain  doctrinal propositions of truth that must be consciously affirmed. For the Hirsch’s this is too abstract, and this places them squarely in postmodern territory (though, not lost in its wilderness). Indeed, it’s likely that many sectors of Christendom will dismiss the these ideas as legalistic because some of the focus is being shifted to include what we do (what they call, “living the Shema”), as well as what we believe (i.e. “believing in Jesus”).

The authors indirectly reject fundamentalist conceptions of legalism as a false dichotomy, instead seeing legalism as too much emphasis on doctrinal purity. They affirm that, “The reality is that what we believe about God does have consequences. History is full of people who have wreaked enormous damage and even killed for what they believe in.”Our theology dictates our conception of what it means to be good and right, and how it will look to build a just society.

For the authors, this is where the Shema – the core Jewish prayer, taken from Deut 6 – comes in. For the Hirsch’s, Jesus’ placement of the Shema (or what Scot McNight calls “The Jesus Creed“) in Mark 12:29-31 as the central explication of faith is his remarkable distillation of right theology and praxis in one simple statement, a statemnt which holds the two concepts of belief and action firmly together – making his “way” into a concrete, bodily faith:

“The follower of Jesus broadens his or her knowledge of God through living truth, not just believing in it. True knowledge of God must be expressed in practice or action—that’s why the Bible is one-third ethics. Obedience— body and soul—is part of the condition of God’s covenant (for example, Exod. 24:7; Jer. 11:3) as well as the momentous parting words of commission under which we live (Matt. 28:18–20). As C. S. Lewis says, “Obedience is the ‘holy courtesy’ required for entering into the divine relationship.”

This is how we truly come to know God: by faith, which means believing Jesus’ teachings to the extent that we put them into bodily practice and learn how, through trial and error, to become like him through the enabling grace of God given by the indwelling Holy Spirit. The teachings and actions of Christ, including the Shema, are not only the starting point for our theological conception of God, but also our guide for whether we’re getting it right or wrong.

Another distinctively postmodern aspect of this chapter is the Hirsch’s insistence that such a life simply cannot be lived individually. While we all can know God, no one individual can know God completely. Rather, because everyone is wired differently with a variety of temperaments, strengths, and weaknesses, we must pursue the knowing of God in community. That is the place of proper theology.

The rest of the Chapter explores some of the ways that people are derailed in their discipleship – with emphasis on the big three of sex, money, and power – but the core message remains the same: we recapitulate what we worship, therefore we must endeavor to know God as God really is. For the authors, this means that the first order of Christianity is a full-orbed, holistic worship (not just singing), which they call “dangerous” because it has the capacity to put us in contact with an untamed God who transforms us beyond our meager lusts.

Some Questions For Reflection:

1. Do you agree that we imitate that which we worship? Can you think of examples from non-religious life?
2. What is your concept of worship? What are the most effective ways you engage in worship?
3. What are you thought on the proposition that we can only know God in community?

Technorati Tags: Alan Hirsch, Christianity, Deb Hirsch, discipleship, God, missional, Postmodernism, Scot McNight, The Shema, Untamed, worship

Are Mega-Churches The Healthiest Churches in America?

I have a friend – “Pastor A” – who is phenomenally gifted as a minister. He’s a skilled musician and speaker, funny, sincere, and “naturally supernatural.” He could grow a mega-church if he unleashed his gifts, but instead, he’s engaged in a form of missional ministry that involves intentionally dialing back the up-front nature of his gifts in favor of a more egalitarian approach to leadership and discipleship, which, in our American setting, means his latest church plant is growing more slowly and will probably never be very big.

Recently he had a conversation with “Pastor B,” a friend of his and another phenomenally gifted minister whose church is rather large (over 5000 I believe) and engages in some exceptionally good ministry to the community. It would be a mistake to dismiss this church as just another pragmatic, attractional sellout. They preach the word in an expository way, work hard to disciple people, and serve the community in highly innovative ways.  However, they do intentionally appeal to the “mall mentality” of Americans (his words, not mine). In that sense it is  very much an “attractional” church.

Presumably, they were talking about the missional vs attractional debate, or perhaps Pastor A’s intentionally small, slow growth approach, when Pastor B simply turned to him and said, “You have to understand, mega-churches are the healthiest churches in America.”

Is that true?

It seems to be that this is the point on which much of the debate hangs. What does it mean to be a good church, a healthy church?

In my own recent conversation with a prominent leader in my association whose church is larger and decidedly attractional we were discussing my own choice to adopt a more missional/incarnational approach. I wanted to be sure that would be welcome in our association. He assured me it would be, but added, “It is interesting, however, that it’s the mega-churches who are baptizing the most people.”

I just let it go, because more than anything his simple statement communicate a world of difference between us, and I knew we weren’t going to resolve it.

Still, it gets back to the basic questions: What does it mean to be a healthy church and what kinds of churches in America (if any) best reflect health?

Technorati Tags: Christianity, Mega-Churches, missional

Should Missional Church Leaders Be Paid? (Prelude)

Next week I’ll be writing a few blog posts on the subject of vocation and leadership in the missional church. A number of others have posted on this subject recently – including JR Rozko, Todd Heistand and David Fitch – and as a missional church leader myself, I have my own personal struggles. I’ll be mashing all that raw material together starting on Tuesday.

But first, I want to hear from you. What are your thoughts on this subject? What questions should we be asking? Do you think being missional necessitates being non-professional? What problems do you foresee? If you’re a church-planter/leader, what are your struggles with vocation? If you’re part of a church – any kind of church – what are your thoughts on professional leadership?

Technorati Tags: Church, Leadership, Ministry, missional, Vocation

Vineyard Churches at the Crossroads

Yesterday, we all seemed to agree the Vineyard is alive and well, but in a period of stabilization that has resulted in some decline. We also agree this has been a healthy and necessary period of “house cleaning,” regrouping, and redefining in the wake of some damaging fringe elements (i.e. extreme pentecostalism) and the loss our charismatic founding leader.

This weekend I’m participating in a small round table discussion with a few other Vineyard leaders who are experimenting with a variety of alternative approaches to ecclesiology. Most of these folks have been shaped in some way by the sojourn that was the Emerging Church (though most probably wouldn’t identify with the EC). This gathering won’t be prescriptive. We’re hoping to learn from each other. I’d like to have a parallel discussion here on the blog for those who are interested.

First, one observation about why I think the Vineyard is both well positioned to reach our cultures and simultaneously at a variety of crossroads.

While the Vineyard is solidly orthodox, unlike other traditions it doesn’t have an entrenched theological heritage. Wesley was an Anglican; various Reformed traditions trace allegiance to Luther or Calvin; Baptists, I would argue, are so deeply entangled with the American exceptionalism of the era in which they were birthed that their entrenched dogma is a libertarian brand of Christ-driven patriotism (thoughts Caleb?). Even Calvary Chapel – though less so – is fairly strictly governed by the strong theological dogmas of its own charismatic founder (who is still alive, though reportedly ill). And so on.

But the Vineyard’s only strong theological heritage is the recent trajectory of “Kingdom theology” famously developed by George Ladd (via C.H. Dodd), and later expounded upon by a diverse group of theologians including Beasley-Murray (Baptist), Gordon Fee (Pentecostal), N.T. Wright (Anglican), and Scot McNight (Anabaptist) just to name a diverse few – and teased-out by highly influential thinkers like Dallas Willard and J.P. Moreland (both in the Vineyard). There is now a near consensus among the aforementioned traditions that Kingdom theology is true.

Consequently, both because of the absence of a firmly entrenched dogmatic heritage and a commitment to a theological foundation that is fairly ecumenical, there’s a tremendous amount of freedom for Vineyard churches to explore what it means to be the people of God, embodying a foretaste of the Kingdom in our local contexts while valuing and cooperating with a variety of other Christian traditions. This is one of the reasons I’m convinced the Vineyard – as Jason Smith put it yesterday – is well positioned for a “post” culture (post-Christendom, post-evangelical, post-denominational, etc.).

Having said that, I think there are a number of crossroads facing Vineyard leaders as we depart the decade of the the “Emerging sojourn.” Those include:

Missional vs. Attractional
The Emerging conversation has very much given way to the Missional conversation, and now every church in the West wants to be seen as missional. Some see this as a polarity, but others see it as a continuum. In my observation, those who define missional as “outwardly-focused” see this as a both/and continuum, whereas those who define missional as “following God into a foreign culture” see this crossroad as an either/or polarity. I’ll tip my hand and say I see this as a polarity, and think it’s more accurate to refer to this choice as “Missional vs Christendom,” where the former is necessarily marginalized, subversive, and decentralized and the latter is necessarily empowered, enthroned, and centralized.

Institutional vs Organic
How is the structure of church best expressed in your area and culture? How are you handling the pitfalls inherent in hierarchy and professionalism? Are you committed to professional leadership or are you leaning ideologically toward some kind of bi-vocational or volunteer status as a leader? A related crossroads is liturgical vs. non-liturgical (I know, everyone has a liturgy… but you know what I mean), especially in light of Todd Hunters recent comment that he see’s a “revival of religion” coming.

Pentecostal vs. Reformed vs. Anglican vs. Anabaptist
Obviously this is a huge oversimplification, but these represent some of the dominant streams of theological thinking within the Vineyard, and Kingdom theology can happily coexist with each. You could include Catholic and Orthodox as well, but I think those are more sources for perspective and inspiration than genuine options for Vineyard folks. In some ways this is the first crossroads, since a pre-disposition here will heavily determine your ecclesiology.

So, what roads you are traveling and why? Do you feel the broader Vineyard leadership, either at the national or local level, is pushing in any particular direction on these? What other crossroads do you see?

I’ll be sharing your responses with the other Vineyard folks I’m hanging with this weekend.

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