Craig Van Gelder. The Ministry of the Missional Church: A Community Led by the Spirit. Baker Books, 2007.
I have become immersed in the new movement in contemporary, American theological reflection which may appropriately be named “missional theology”. Missional theology has become a very comprehensive genre of theological reflection which strives to understand the sweeping changes that are moving the church into a new era. Craig Van Gelder, professor of congregational mission at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, offers an important new book in missional theology. His overarching thesis is a vision of the Church as Spirit-led.
After an introduction in Chapter One, Van Gelder offers a nice Bible study on the work of the Spirit through both the Old and New Testaments in Chapter Two. In Chapter Three, Van Gelder considers a theme that is common in missional theology: the contextuality of the church. The church must be intentional today to understand where it is, its spiritual and theological location in the world. In response to the constantly changing context of the church, Van Gelder suggests that “the church is always both forming and reforming. This reinforces the logic that the church always needs to be both confessional (claiming and reclaiming its identity in relation to the historic Christian faith) and missional (engaging its context and continuously recontextualizing its ministry)” (Page 54).
In Chapter Four, Van Gelder focuses on the American church, in a perceptive analysis of our history, by tracking the movement of the church in American context from an established church to a corporate church to the missional church (Page 73). This understanding of American church history is very helpful, and precisely defines the change and trauma of our church today as we are in the midst of a transformation from a corporate church to a missional church.
It is Chapter Five which makes this book a valuable contribution to the Presbyterian Church today. In light of the discussions across our church motivated by the Peace, Unity and Purity report, there is now a new appreciation and a renewed interest in “spiritual discernment.” The call to communal spiritual discernment is one of the central propositions of the Peace, Unity and Purity report. Van Gelder also calls for a renewed commitment to spiritual discernment in the church and offers the theological, social and historical rationale for it. Van Gelder offers the idea of “hermeneutical turn” as a way to describe the situation we are in which includes a “diversity of interpretations of reality.” Van Gelder is exactly correct, and I have experienced this repeatedly, that “the challenge facing Christian leaders today is learning to engage diverse perceptions of reality.” I will quote here at length Van Gelder’s description of the hermeneutical turn because, I believe, it accurately describes the challenge before the church and the opportunity for becoming a truly missional church:
“In light of the hermeneutical turn that has developed over the past century, there is no going back to a world that can be framed in seemingly black-and-white categories. The diversity of interpretations of reality, which are manifest both in the multiperspectival character of biblical studies and the different methods used by the social sciences, makes this impossible. This means that part of the challenge facing Christian leaders today is learning to engage diverse perceptions of reality by drawing on a variety of methods that can inform discernment and decision-making process. Relying primarily on one method, whether it is in relation to biblical teaching or scientific explanation, is no longer viable, if it ever was. Diverse perspectives, rooted in different methods and the particulars of social location, bring a multiperspectival dynamic into any discussion. Rather than playing out these differences around power dynamics related to personalities, roles, or the vote of the majority, which is so often the case in congregations, a more redemptive approach is to engage such differences through a process of mutual discernment. This requires leadership. This requires time. This requires a mutual commitment among those who are around the table. And this requires being Spirit-led. Reflected in this approach is the important theoretical insight that we need to develop a practice of ‘communicative reason’ within diverse communities in order to come to shared conclusions” (Page 97).
I believe this beautifully names an important challenge of ministry today. Church leaders must be able to engage diverse perceptions of reality in ways that are Spirit-led and grace-filled. This engagement need not confrontational but must be conversational and discerning. This engagement must not be a power-play or an effort to promote my own agenda, but must be truly discerning, seeking to understand the will of God. I believe that pastors today who are able to create mature, open, mutual, Spirit-led patterns of spiritual discernment will help us move toward the kind of church to which God is calling us.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
Book Review: Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Book Review: Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Writings Selected with an Introduction by Robert Coles. Modern Spiritual Masters Series. Orbis Books, 2003.
This newly published collection of some of the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer gathers together pieces from most of his popular writings. But I was drawn to this volume, not for the Bonhoeffer texts most of which I have already read, but for the introduction by Robert Coles. Indeed, Coles, a professor of social ethics at Harvard, has written a brilliant introduction to Bonhoeffer. If you do not know the story of Bonhoeffer’s life and death, this introduction will quickly educate you. For those of us, probably most Presbyterian pastors, who are very familiar with Bonhoeffer’s legacy, Cole’s introduction is a brilliant theological interpretation and perceptive analysis.
I have always, like most people familiar with the Bonhoeffer story, appreciated and struggled with the profound depth of his calling. It was a calling that he clearly understood as coming directly from Christ. It was a calling that led, almost inevitably, to his imprisonment and death at the hands of the Gestapo, only days before Hitler’s own suicide. If we desire, and I believe we must, to consider the power of the calling of Christ in our own lives then we may ponder the calling of Christ in other people as testimony and witness. But we speak of being called by Christ to give up our lives as a metaphor, a manner of speaking. Bonhoeffer understand such a calling literally. Like others in that terrible era, Bonhoeffer had options. He could have saved himself, and ride out the war safely within America enjoying the opportunity to teach at Union Theological Seminary surrounded by other, brilliant German theologians who did just that. We must ask ourselves the deeply haunting question which emerges from the Bonhoeffer story: Why did he choose to leave the safety of America and return to Nazi Germany, when he fully understood the consequences which probably would result? Coles reflects on this question brilliantly and sees it as central to the Bonhoeffer legacy. It was for Bonhoeffer the fulfillment of the call of Christ. I quote at length from Robert Cole’s introduction:
“In this regard I remember well a conversation with Reinhold and Ursala Niebuhr in the summer of 1963 and their polite but candid wish to convey not only the concern so many at Union Seminary felt for Bonhoeffer, but an interesting and all too instructive variant of that concern. Why did he want so badly to go back to Germany? What did the “homesickness” of which frequently spoke “really” mean? Was he not, perhaps, “depressed”? Might not he have been helped by some “conversations” with a “professional” person? Wouldn’t it have been “wiser” for him to stay in America and help rouse a significantly isolationist nation to an awareness of what was at stake in Europe? By then Paul Tillich and Karl Barth had gone into exile; hadn’t Bonhoeffer already struggled harder against the Nazis that just about anyone throughout the German universities, throughout Christendom?” (Page 24).
“The heart of Bonhoeffer’s spiritual legacy to us is not be found in his words, his books, but in the way he spent his time on this earth, in his decision to live as if the Lord were a neighbor and friend, a constant source of courage and inspiration, a presence amid travail and joy alike, a reminder of love’s obligations and affirmations and also of death’s decisive meaning (how we die as a measure of how we have lived, of who we are). Bonhoeffer abandoned cleverness with language, brilliance at abstract formulations; he forsook denominational argument, oaths and pledges and avowals. In the end he reached out to all of us who crave, in hunger and in thirst, God’s grace. And, one believes, unwittingly, unself-consciously, he became its witness, its recipient. His spiritual gift to us, especially, is his life.” (page 41).
Thanks be to God for the words and witness, the life and death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
This newly published collection of some of the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer gathers together pieces from most of his popular writings. But I was drawn to this volume, not for the Bonhoeffer texts most of which I have already read, but for the introduction by Robert Coles. Indeed, Coles, a professor of social ethics at Harvard, has written a brilliant introduction to Bonhoeffer. If you do not know the story of Bonhoeffer’s life and death, this introduction will quickly educate you. For those of us, probably most Presbyterian pastors, who are very familiar with Bonhoeffer’s legacy, Cole’s introduction is a brilliant theological interpretation and perceptive analysis.
I have always, like most people familiar with the Bonhoeffer story, appreciated and struggled with the profound depth of his calling. It was a calling that he clearly understood as coming directly from Christ. It was a calling that led, almost inevitably, to his imprisonment and death at the hands of the Gestapo, only days before Hitler’s own suicide. If we desire, and I believe we must, to consider the power of the calling of Christ in our own lives then we may ponder the calling of Christ in other people as testimony and witness. But we speak of being called by Christ to give up our lives as a metaphor, a manner of speaking. Bonhoeffer understand such a calling literally. Like others in that terrible era, Bonhoeffer had options. He could have saved himself, and ride out the war safely within America enjoying the opportunity to teach at Union Theological Seminary surrounded by other, brilliant German theologians who did just that. We must ask ourselves the deeply haunting question which emerges from the Bonhoeffer story: Why did he choose to leave the safety of America and return to Nazi Germany, when he fully understood the consequences which probably would result? Coles reflects on this question brilliantly and sees it as central to the Bonhoeffer legacy. It was for Bonhoeffer the fulfillment of the call of Christ. I quote at length from Robert Cole’s introduction:
“In this regard I remember well a conversation with Reinhold and Ursala Niebuhr in the summer of 1963 and their polite but candid wish to convey not only the concern so many at Union Seminary felt for Bonhoeffer, but an interesting and all too instructive variant of that concern. Why did he want so badly to go back to Germany? What did the “homesickness” of which frequently spoke “really” mean? Was he not, perhaps, “depressed”? Might not he have been helped by some “conversations” with a “professional” person? Wouldn’t it have been “wiser” for him to stay in America and help rouse a significantly isolationist nation to an awareness of what was at stake in Europe? By then Paul Tillich and Karl Barth had gone into exile; hadn’t Bonhoeffer already struggled harder against the Nazis that just about anyone throughout the German universities, throughout Christendom?” (Page 24).
“The heart of Bonhoeffer’s spiritual legacy to us is not be found in his words, his books, but in the way he spent his time on this earth, in his decision to live as if the Lord were a neighbor and friend, a constant source of courage and inspiration, a presence amid travail and joy alike, a reminder of love’s obligations and affirmations and also of death’s decisive meaning (how we die as a measure of how we have lived, of who we are). Bonhoeffer abandoned cleverness with language, brilliance at abstract formulations; he forsook denominational argument, oaths and pledges and avowals. In the end he reached out to all of us who crave, in hunger and in thirst, God’s grace. And, one believes, unwittingly, unself-consciously, he became its witness, its recipient. His spiritual gift to us, especially, is his life.” (page 41).
Thanks be to God for the words and witness, the life and death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Back to School
The Presbyterian Church in American history has always expressed a strong commitment to public education. It is a rich discussion to consider the differing theological foundations of the Roman Catholic Church in America which has adamantly fought for and maintained a strong system of parochial schools and the Presbyterian Church which has always advocated and supported a strong system of public education and schools. Which system is better for the church? Which system is better for our society?
In the churches I have served as a pastor there have always been in the congregation teachers and school administrators who were very active, committed, leading church members. One of the great blessings for our family was the educational experience that our oldest son had in the town of Morris, Illinois where I served as the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church. Kyle started school while we lived in Morris, and his first grade teacher was Mrs. Joan Smith. Mrs. Smith is a very active member of First Presbyterian Church. Moreover, our church started an after school program on Wednesdays, named the After School Special. Mrs. Smith was one of the original, driving forces behind this program and taught its first grade class. So during his first grade, our son Kyle had Mrs. Smith as his first grade teacher and on Wednesdays came to the church and had Mrs. Smith as his After School Special teacher. Kyle learned how to read and how to do arithmetic with Mrs. Smith. He also learned about Jesus with Mrs. Smith. This has been a deep and lasting blessing for Kyle and our family.
I was invited to participate in Sunday School and worship at our First Presbyterian Church in Newville on the Sunday before school started this year. Here again I saw a marvelous expression of the deep connection between the Presbyterian Church and public education. First Newville has started a creative, little program which they call, “Blessing the Backpacks.” All the children are invited to bring their school backpacks to worship. And the congregation was packed full with families and young children with their new school clothes on and their school backpacks still clean and new. For the children’s sermon all these children were called forward with their backpacks; and Pastor Vern, in his message to them, encouraged them to remember that God is always with them especially when they go to school. In addition, there was recognition of all the professional educators in the congregation, and a special responsive litany asking God’s blessing at the start of another school year.
In your church, please ask God’s blessing upon our schools, students, teachers and school professionals. Presbyterians have always believed that through public education God is praised.
In the churches I have served as a pastor there have always been in the congregation teachers and school administrators who were very active, committed, leading church members. One of the great blessings for our family was the educational experience that our oldest son had in the town of Morris, Illinois where I served as the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church. Kyle started school while we lived in Morris, and his first grade teacher was Mrs. Joan Smith. Mrs. Smith is a very active member of First Presbyterian Church. Moreover, our church started an after school program on Wednesdays, named the After School Special. Mrs. Smith was one of the original, driving forces behind this program and taught its first grade class. So during his first grade, our son Kyle had Mrs. Smith as his first grade teacher and on Wednesdays came to the church and had Mrs. Smith as his After School Special teacher. Kyle learned how to read and how to do arithmetic with Mrs. Smith. He also learned about Jesus with Mrs. Smith. This has been a deep and lasting blessing for Kyle and our family.
I was invited to participate in Sunday School and worship at our First Presbyterian Church in Newville on the Sunday before school started this year. Here again I saw a marvelous expression of the deep connection between the Presbyterian Church and public education. First Newville has started a creative, little program which they call, “Blessing the Backpacks.” All the children are invited to bring their school backpacks to worship. And the congregation was packed full with families and young children with their new school clothes on and their school backpacks still clean and new. For the children’s sermon all these children were called forward with their backpacks; and Pastor Vern, in his message to them, encouraged them to remember that God is always with them especially when they go to school. In addition, there was recognition of all the professional educators in the congregation, and a special responsive litany asking God’s blessing at the start of another school year.
In your church, please ask God’s blessing upon our schools, students, teachers and school professionals. Presbyterians have always believed that through public education God is praised.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Are we the Church?
A headline in the Harrisburg Patriot-News on Thursday July 12 caught my attention: “Pope criticizes other churches.” The first paragraph of this Associated Press article stunned me: “Pope Benedict XVI reasserted the primacy of the Roman Catholic Church, approving a document released yesterday that says other Christian communities are either defective or not true churches and Catholicism provides the only true path to salvation.”
From experience I have learned never to trust newspaper stories about the church. Newspaper articles, and even more TV news stories, need conflict, tension, and high emotional to attract attention and discussion. Stories about the church in such public media typically lose nuance, depth of meaning and serious theological reflection. So this newspaper article sent me scurrying to find what the Pope’s paper actually said.
In this internet age, it was not hard to find. The Vatican released a statement on July 10, 2007 titled “Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith Responses to Some Questions Regarding Certain Aspects of the Doctrine of the Church.” Indeed the “Fifth Question” in this document refers directly to us Presbyterians. That is, it responds to “those Christian communities born out of the Reformation of the sixteenth century.” From my perspective and worldview as a life-long Presbyterian, I find this “response” from the Vatican breathtaking in it arrogance:
“According to Catholic doctrine, these Communities (born out of the Reformation of the sixteenth century) do not enjoy apostolic succession in the sacrament of Orders, and are, therefore, deprived of a constitutive element of the Church. These ecclesial Communities which, specifically because of the absence of the sacramental priesthood, have not preserved the genuine and integral substance of the Eucharistic Mystery cannot, according to Catholic doctrine, be called “Churches” in the proper sense.”
I soon discovered that I am not the only Protestant stunned by the Pope’s recent declaration. The Rev. Dr. Setri Nyomi, the General Secretary of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, wrote a scathing letter in response, from which I quote in part:
“An exclusive claim that identifies the Roman Catholic Church as the one church of Jesus Christ, as we read in the statement released today, goes against the spirit of our Christian calling towards oneness in Christ. In makes us question the seriousness with which the Roman Catholic Church takes its dialogues with the Reformed family and other families of the church. It makes us question whether we are indeed praying together for Christian unity.”
Finally, I ponder a different question. Does it make any difference? For the pastors and congregations in our Presbytery carrying on with wonderful faithfulness and devotion to Jesus Christ does the Pope’s statement make any difference? When we have a friendly chat with the Roman Catholic neighbor who lives on our street, does the Pope’s statement make any difference?
Who is the Church? Where is the Church? What is the Church? These are vital questions. But is the Pope’s answer to these questions, or my answer to these questions some how more important than the answers which all the good folks express with their lives when they sit in our pews again this week?
When I think about the Church, with a capital “C”, the invisible Church as our Book of Confessions proclaims, I see in my mind something universal, beautiful and holy scattered all around the globe and through the ages. That vision causes my heart to rejoice. When I think of the Church, with a capital “C”, I also see in my mind our fragmented, divided, separated, sinful reality. That vision breaks my heart.
From experience I have learned never to trust newspaper stories about the church. Newspaper articles, and even more TV news stories, need conflict, tension, and high emotional to attract attention and discussion. Stories about the church in such public media typically lose nuance, depth of meaning and serious theological reflection. So this newspaper article sent me scurrying to find what the Pope’s paper actually said.
In this internet age, it was not hard to find. The Vatican released a statement on July 10, 2007 titled “Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith Responses to Some Questions Regarding Certain Aspects of the Doctrine of the Church.” Indeed the “Fifth Question” in this document refers directly to us Presbyterians. That is, it responds to “those Christian communities born out of the Reformation of the sixteenth century.” From my perspective and worldview as a life-long Presbyterian, I find this “response” from the Vatican breathtaking in it arrogance:
“According to Catholic doctrine, these Communities (born out of the Reformation of the sixteenth century) do not enjoy apostolic succession in the sacrament of Orders, and are, therefore, deprived of a constitutive element of the Church. These ecclesial Communities which, specifically because of the absence of the sacramental priesthood, have not preserved the genuine and integral substance of the Eucharistic Mystery cannot, according to Catholic doctrine, be called “Churches” in the proper sense.”
I soon discovered that I am not the only Protestant stunned by the Pope’s recent declaration. The Rev. Dr. Setri Nyomi, the General Secretary of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, wrote a scathing letter in response, from which I quote in part:
“An exclusive claim that identifies the Roman Catholic Church as the one church of Jesus Christ, as we read in the statement released today, goes against the spirit of our Christian calling towards oneness in Christ. In makes us question the seriousness with which the Roman Catholic Church takes its dialogues with the Reformed family and other families of the church. It makes us question whether we are indeed praying together for Christian unity.”
Finally, I ponder a different question. Does it make any difference? For the pastors and congregations in our Presbytery carrying on with wonderful faithfulness and devotion to Jesus Christ does the Pope’s statement make any difference? When we have a friendly chat with the Roman Catholic neighbor who lives on our street, does the Pope’s statement make any difference?
Who is the Church? Where is the Church? What is the Church? These are vital questions. But is the Pope’s answer to these questions, or my answer to these questions some how more important than the answers which all the good folks express with their lives when they sit in our pews again this week?
When I think about the Church, with a capital “C”, the invisible Church as our Book of Confessions proclaims, I see in my mind something universal, beautiful and holy scattered all around the globe and through the ages. That vision causes my heart to rejoice. When I think of the Church, with a capital “C”, I also see in my mind our fragmented, divided, separated, sinful reality. That vision breaks my heart.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Per Capita: What is the future?
How do you think about 150 years? The two track funding system which is now established in our Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) was created in 1857, exactly 150 years ago this year. In one sense 150 years is forever, since it is longer than any of us are old. Thus none of us have ever known anything else in the Church. In another sense, 150 years is not long at all compared to all of Church history, and 150 years is only half as long as our Presbyterian heritage in America.
The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is funded by a cumbersome, sometimes confusing, often controversial two track funding system for all the governing bodies beyond the session. On one track we have our Per Capita assessment which is the responsibility of the Presbytery to pay and to which almost all of our congregations contribute directly. The amount of Per Capita is defined individually by each Presbytery, each Synod and by the General Assembly and is calculated using total active membership.
The second track of funding is our general mission giving. Most of your congregations also contribute to Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) general mission work. You make a decision about the amount of general mission you would like to contribute and you, we hope, forward your contributions to us regularly. Thus for 150 years our church has functioned using this two track funding mechanism: per capita and general mission giving. For us, of course, this is all that we have ever known.
The idea of the Per Capita assessment started in 1857 very small and very focused. It was intended to spread out and share across all the presbyteries the costs of the annual meeting of the General Assembly. Per Capita was created to pay for the meeting of the General Assembly each year; that is all. But in the first decades of the 1900s the church followed the values of our society in the conviction that larger, hierarchical, centralized organizations are best. The bureaucracy and institutional size of our denomination grew enormously as the church adopted the values of our society. We created the ecclesiastical equivalent of the public corporation. The church became a huge, efficient, organized, sprawling, national organization. Thus in 1923, following the massive reorganization and expansion of the General Assembly, Per Capita funding was expanded to include four new departments: Christian Life and Work, Publicity, Vacancy and Supply, and Church Cooperation and Union. Today when we try creating budgets within our governing bodies we must debate the confusing question of what should be funded from Per Capita and what should be funded from Mission.
Per Capita: what is the future? You will see in your papers a report from our Administration Committee, which I initiated, and which our Administration Committee and our Coordinating Council both endorsed. We are asking that beginning in 2008 the Presbytery will contribute 100% of our Per Capita Assessment. If approved this will be a significant change in practice. Our current practice is for us only to forward the amount of Per Capita which we actually receive from our congregations. This is important to me because I am interested in being part of the conversation about what the future financial system of the church will look like.
I believe that the two track funding system is no longer viable for the church today. From a financial perspective it is cumbersome and confusing. More importantly, from a theological perspective this system is obsolete. The Per Capita system is rooted in an establishment model of the church in society, which presumes that all active Presbyterians expect, enjoy and are connected to our large, multi- governing body, institutional, church structure. That is simply no longer true; the era of unquestioned institutional commitment and loyalty is long gone. Now the larger governing bodies – presbyteries, synods and the General Assembly – must deserve the loyalty and support of the people in your pews by expressing a ministry and mission that is faithful to Christ and fully supportive and responsive to our congregations. I believe that our Per Capita assessment, with its tone of obligation, is no longer financially viable in this new era.
A new mission shaped theology is beginning to take hold of our church and our thinking. In this sense, we are returning to our New Testament roots. The church is a people called out. The word itself, “ecclesia” means “a people called out”. When we are at our best, when we allow theological commitments to guide our financial practices, we understand that the church itself, in all its parts and expressions, is a mission. We are, first of all, an expression of God’s mission in Christ into our world. Thus, it follows, that everything the church does is mission. The mission of God in our world shapes, defines and calls the church. We are a mission-shaped and mission- charged people. Thus there is nothing the church does that should be aside from or apart from our mission in Christ. If we push out the implications of this kind of theology into the realms of organization, administration and finance you will soon share my conviction that everything is mission, and everything we need financially must then be provided by mission giving.
I believe we are moving toward a future that will see a streamlined, single track funding system that reflects this kind of missional theology. But how do we get from here to there? Now that is a very difficult and complex problem. How do you fix an airplane while it is flying? One vital, preliminary step is for us to make a full commitment to the funding system we have received and which is currently in place. Thus we have this action item before us to fully commit to the Per Capita system. And then when we are fully committed, we can begin to discern the way forward. My deepest convictions are reflected here. I do not believe we fix a problem or find a way forward by abandoning and neglecting the structure which we have received. Rather, we should make a full commitment to the system and structure which we have in place, and then devote our energy and creativity, together, to discerning our future.
The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is funded by a cumbersome, sometimes confusing, often controversial two track funding system for all the governing bodies beyond the session. On one track we have our Per Capita assessment which is the responsibility of the Presbytery to pay and to which almost all of our congregations contribute directly. The amount of Per Capita is defined individually by each Presbytery, each Synod and by the General Assembly and is calculated using total active membership.
The second track of funding is our general mission giving. Most of your congregations also contribute to Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) general mission work. You make a decision about the amount of general mission you would like to contribute and you, we hope, forward your contributions to us regularly. Thus for 150 years our church has functioned using this two track funding mechanism: per capita and general mission giving. For us, of course, this is all that we have ever known.
The idea of the Per Capita assessment started in 1857 very small and very focused. It was intended to spread out and share across all the presbyteries the costs of the annual meeting of the General Assembly. Per Capita was created to pay for the meeting of the General Assembly each year; that is all. But in the first decades of the 1900s the church followed the values of our society in the conviction that larger, hierarchical, centralized organizations are best. The bureaucracy and institutional size of our denomination grew enormously as the church adopted the values of our society. We created the ecclesiastical equivalent of the public corporation. The church became a huge, efficient, organized, sprawling, national organization. Thus in 1923, following the massive reorganization and expansion of the General Assembly, Per Capita funding was expanded to include four new departments: Christian Life and Work, Publicity, Vacancy and Supply, and Church Cooperation and Union. Today when we try creating budgets within our governing bodies we must debate the confusing question of what should be funded from Per Capita and what should be funded from Mission.
Per Capita: what is the future? You will see in your papers a report from our Administration Committee, which I initiated, and which our Administration Committee and our Coordinating Council both endorsed. We are asking that beginning in 2008 the Presbytery will contribute 100% of our Per Capita Assessment. If approved this will be a significant change in practice. Our current practice is for us only to forward the amount of Per Capita which we actually receive from our congregations. This is important to me because I am interested in being part of the conversation about what the future financial system of the church will look like.
I believe that the two track funding system is no longer viable for the church today. From a financial perspective it is cumbersome and confusing. More importantly, from a theological perspective this system is obsolete. The Per Capita system is rooted in an establishment model of the church in society, which presumes that all active Presbyterians expect, enjoy and are connected to our large, multi- governing body, institutional, church structure. That is simply no longer true; the era of unquestioned institutional commitment and loyalty is long gone. Now the larger governing bodies – presbyteries, synods and the General Assembly – must deserve the loyalty and support of the people in your pews by expressing a ministry and mission that is faithful to Christ and fully supportive and responsive to our congregations. I believe that our Per Capita assessment, with its tone of obligation, is no longer financially viable in this new era.
A new mission shaped theology is beginning to take hold of our church and our thinking. In this sense, we are returning to our New Testament roots. The church is a people called out. The word itself, “ecclesia” means “a people called out”. When we are at our best, when we allow theological commitments to guide our financial practices, we understand that the church itself, in all its parts and expressions, is a mission. We are, first of all, an expression of God’s mission in Christ into our world. Thus, it follows, that everything the church does is mission. The mission of God in our world shapes, defines and calls the church. We are a mission-shaped and mission- charged people. Thus there is nothing the church does that should be aside from or apart from our mission in Christ. If we push out the implications of this kind of theology into the realms of organization, administration and finance you will soon share my conviction that everything is mission, and everything we need financially must then be provided by mission giving.
I believe we are moving toward a future that will see a streamlined, single track funding system that reflects this kind of missional theology. But how do we get from here to there? Now that is a very difficult and complex problem. How do you fix an airplane while it is flying? One vital, preliminary step is for us to make a full commitment to the funding system we have received and which is currently in place. Thus we have this action item before us to fully commit to the Per Capita system. And then when we are fully committed, we can begin to discern the way forward. My deepest convictions are reflected here. I do not believe we fix a problem or find a way forward by abandoning and neglecting the structure which we have received. Rather, we should make a full commitment to the system and structure which we have in place, and then devote our energy and creativity, together, to discerning our future.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Baseball in Nicaragua
The crisp, hot, late afternoon sunshine in Nicaragua creates perfect conditions for playing baseball. We noticed that the construction crews seemed to finish up the day’s work with a bit more energy and gusto; several of them asked me as the work for the day wound down, “Baseball?” Just that one word, with their deep Spanish language accent, and the interrogative lilt rolling up at the end, turned a word into a question. “Si,” I would readily reply, wondering what I was getting myself into.
David, our host and translator, had organized the game the evening before. He told me that there are two things that the guys on the construction crews really love: work and baseball. They play all the time in the field next to the school. The schedule was set. Baseball after work today!
This was truly a multi-purpose field. It is huge, easily the size of a full soccer field, with the main road of the village running along the long side of it. A few scrub trees line the edge of the field next to the road. There is a makeshift soccer goal set up at one end. Three long sticks: two sticking in the ground vertically, with Y notches at their tops, and one mounted horizontally in those Ys. No net in this soccer goal. I guess if you score a goal you must also chase the ball. The field also served as pasture, and we enjoyed watching the mama horse and her day’s old colt quietly grazing.
The baseball field is evident only because of its use. There is no backstop, no chalk lines, and no outfield fence. But the base paths were clearly evident from their heavy use. The area around home plate is smooth and clean. Home plate is imaginary; but obvious. First base is a now empty, paper concrete bag. Second base is a rag. Third base was imaginary; a spot in the dirt. What interested me about this field was the accuracy of its size. Despite the lack of real bases or a backstop this was, my measuring eye told me, really close to a full size baseball field. The spots in the dirt where the bases were supposed to be were in their perfect place; 90 feet apart in American measure. Baseball fields express beauty with their straight lines, angles, and symmetry. This field in the Nicaraguan dirt was beautiful.
David divided the teams, Americans and Nicaraguans all mixed up. This process took a while, with some thoughtfulness and discussion which was not translated into English for us. I guessed there was an effort to balance the teams, with some mysterious assessment made of our American ability. Indeed, we had two full teams. None of the Americans had gloves. So after three outs each player simply dropped their glove on the field at their position for the other team to pick up and use. The glove at my second base spot was gloriously well used, it flexed precisely like part of my hand, its leather was smooth and worn. This was an excellent baseball glove. It has been many, many years since I played real baseball, but as this glove fit over my hand I heard my heart whisper, “I can play this game!” A lifetime of baseball memories rushed through my mind: the feel of the glove, the grip on a hardball, the polished grain of a wooden bat, pick up teams, sweat and dust, grimy cap pulled down tight, kick the stones out of the way which may bounce up a hard grounder. Baseball is meant to be played; not watched. Baseball is poetry enacted.
We played fast pitch, regular baseball. The only difference is that each batter got ONE swing, not three strikes and unlimited foul balls; but one swing. “This will be a challenge,” I pondered. David instructed me, “They will pitch easy to you; wait for a good pitch and hit. If you strike, you’re out; if you foul off; you’re out, one swing per batter. Wait for your pitch.” This style made the game real fast, three outs came and went quickly. We settled into a very nice game; I found my rhythm and comfort. The memory of how to play this game came up out of my bones.
I played second base. I handled a few, routine ground balls, making the easy throw to first base. Innings went by quickly. Now we were back in the field, Carlos led off and drilled a hard grounder past the shortstop for a single. Jerry, a small, terrifically strong and always smiling construction worker, was playing shortstop. He yelled over to me; there was no need for translation. I knew instinctually that he said, “Be ready; double play.”
Instincts were correct. The next batter hit a hard ground ball to Jerry at short stop. As soon as I saw its direction, I started my move to cover second base. Jerry fielded the grounder clean and fast, turning to throw to me as I arrived at second base. His throw came hard, fast and perfect. I caught it while in full stride, stepping on the rag that was second base. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Carlos coming down the base line hard. He knew he was dead at second, so he started waving his arms and yelling to disrupt my turn toward first. I ran through second base and well past it to avoid his rush at me, stopped fast, and fired on a string to first base. My throw was also perfect, the first baseman ready and waiting. A cheer went up from all around. Double Play. Baseball glory.
On a Nicaraguan baseball field, of all places, I had this moment of true joy and blessing. Such moments are the stuff of real faith, exhilarating and thrilling and all grace. Why do we adults in America never play pick up baseball anymore? Why do we so seldom run and play, sweat and laugh? Why are our lives so structured and organized and professional? Why do a bunch of people from Derry Presbyterian Church – doctors, professionals, computer geeks, teenagers, executives – want to go to Nicaragua?
After a hot day building a concrete block house, while standing on a Nicaraguan baseball field I received a glimpse of an answer. We are called back to something deeper and more meaningful. We are called back to something that we often lose in our sophisticated, air-conditioned, sanitized, modern lives. We are called back to the dirt where we learn again the basic truth of all truth. We are not as good and proper as we think. The dirt makes us clean. We are called back again to the joy of life itself revealed, maybe, in a game of pick up baseball or the quiet contentment of helping to lay the block for a new home for a quiet, deserving family. We are called back again to a deeper joy by the boisterous fun of men who can laugh together while laboring for a weekly wage that would not buy a round of drinks in our town. We are pulled back again into a deeper respect for others by the dignity of the women who sweep the dirt outside their shacks, and hang their crisp, hand-scrubbed, clean clothes on barbed-wire clothes lines. We are inspired by the faith we see in people who have no reason to have faith. We go to Nicaragua because we need to face the mystery again of seeing people who are happy and content when they have no reason to be, while we are seldom happy and content when we have every reason to be. I learned about Jesus again mixing concrete and playing baseball in the bright Nicaraguan sun. I am very grateful. Thanks be to God.
David, our host and translator, had organized the game the evening before. He told me that there are two things that the guys on the construction crews really love: work and baseball. They play all the time in the field next to the school. The schedule was set. Baseball after work today!
This was truly a multi-purpose field. It is huge, easily the size of a full soccer field, with the main road of the village running along the long side of it. A few scrub trees line the edge of the field next to the road. There is a makeshift soccer goal set up at one end. Three long sticks: two sticking in the ground vertically, with Y notches at their tops, and one mounted horizontally in those Ys. No net in this soccer goal. I guess if you score a goal you must also chase the ball. The field also served as pasture, and we enjoyed watching the mama horse and her day’s old colt quietly grazing.
The baseball field is evident only because of its use. There is no backstop, no chalk lines, and no outfield fence. But the base paths were clearly evident from their heavy use. The area around home plate is smooth and clean. Home plate is imaginary; but obvious. First base is a now empty, paper concrete bag. Second base is a rag. Third base was imaginary; a spot in the dirt. What interested me about this field was the accuracy of its size. Despite the lack of real bases or a backstop this was, my measuring eye told me, really close to a full size baseball field. The spots in the dirt where the bases were supposed to be were in their perfect place; 90 feet apart in American measure. Baseball fields express beauty with their straight lines, angles, and symmetry. This field in the Nicaraguan dirt was beautiful.
David divided the teams, Americans and Nicaraguans all mixed up. This process took a while, with some thoughtfulness and discussion which was not translated into English for us. I guessed there was an effort to balance the teams, with some mysterious assessment made of our American ability. Indeed, we had two full teams. None of the Americans had gloves. So after three outs each player simply dropped their glove on the field at their position for the other team to pick up and use. The glove at my second base spot was gloriously well used, it flexed precisely like part of my hand, its leather was smooth and worn. This was an excellent baseball glove. It has been many, many years since I played real baseball, but as this glove fit over my hand I heard my heart whisper, “I can play this game!” A lifetime of baseball memories rushed through my mind: the feel of the glove, the grip on a hardball, the polished grain of a wooden bat, pick up teams, sweat and dust, grimy cap pulled down tight, kick the stones out of the way which may bounce up a hard grounder. Baseball is meant to be played; not watched. Baseball is poetry enacted.
We played fast pitch, regular baseball. The only difference is that each batter got ONE swing, not three strikes and unlimited foul balls; but one swing. “This will be a challenge,” I pondered. David instructed me, “They will pitch easy to you; wait for a good pitch and hit. If you strike, you’re out; if you foul off; you’re out, one swing per batter. Wait for your pitch.” This style made the game real fast, three outs came and went quickly. We settled into a very nice game; I found my rhythm and comfort. The memory of how to play this game came up out of my bones.
I played second base. I handled a few, routine ground balls, making the easy throw to first base. Innings went by quickly. Now we were back in the field, Carlos led off and drilled a hard grounder past the shortstop for a single. Jerry, a small, terrifically strong and always smiling construction worker, was playing shortstop. He yelled over to me; there was no need for translation. I knew instinctually that he said, “Be ready; double play.”
Instincts were correct. The next batter hit a hard ground ball to Jerry at short stop. As soon as I saw its direction, I started my move to cover second base. Jerry fielded the grounder clean and fast, turning to throw to me as I arrived at second base. His throw came hard, fast and perfect. I caught it while in full stride, stepping on the rag that was second base. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Carlos coming down the base line hard. He knew he was dead at second, so he started waving his arms and yelling to disrupt my turn toward first. I ran through second base and well past it to avoid his rush at me, stopped fast, and fired on a string to first base. My throw was also perfect, the first baseman ready and waiting. A cheer went up from all around. Double Play. Baseball glory.
On a Nicaraguan baseball field, of all places, I had this moment of true joy and blessing. Such moments are the stuff of real faith, exhilarating and thrilling and all grace. Why do we adults in America never play pick up baseball anymore? Why do we so seldom run and play, sweat and laugh? Why are our lives so structured and organized and professional? Why do a bunch of people from Derry Presbyterian Church – doctors, professionals, computer geeks, teenagers, executives – want to go to Nicaragua?
After a hot day building a concrete block house, while standing on a Nicaraguan baseball field I received a glimpse of an answer. We are called back to something deeper and more meaningful. We are called back to something that we often lose in our sophisticated, air-conditioned, sanitized, modern lives. We are called back to the dirt where we learn again the basic truth of all truth. We are not as good and proper as we think. The dirt makes us clean. We are called back again to the joy of life itself revealed, maybe, in a game of pick up baseball or the quiet contentment of helping to lay the block for a new home for a quiet, deserving family. We are called back again to a deeper joy by the boisterous fun of men who can laugh together while laboring for a weekly wage that would not buy a round of drinks in our town. We are pulled back again into a deeper respect for others by the dignity of the women who sweep the dirt outside their shacks, and hang their crisp, hand-scrubbed, clean clothes on barbed-wire clothes lines. We are inspired by the faith we see in people who have no reason to have faith. We go to Nicaragua because we need to face the mystery again of seeing people who are happy and content when they have no reason to be, while we are seldom happy and content when we have every reason to be. I learned about Jesus again mixing concrete and playing baseball in the bright Nicaraguan sun. I am very grateful. Thanks be to God.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Evangelism: One on One
I had the opportunity to spend a Sunday morning with the Falling Spring Presbyterian Church. Brad Hill, their full time youth minister, was the preacher for the day. He preached an excellent sermon about the importance of paying deep, spiritual and emotional attention to one person at a time. Too often in the church we are overly concerned with efficiency and attracting large numbers of people to our carefully planned programs, that we forget the gift of the one, individual person who may be standing in front of us. This sermon was a nice interpretation of the parable of the lost sheep. The word that really spoke to me was the short conclusion to Brad’s sermon in which he defined a clear and precise method of doing personal evangelism.
This may be the most clear and beautiful expression of the task of personal evangelism that I have ever heard. It is simple in its clarity but very sophisticated in its understanding of the dynamics of personal evangelism. So here it is: my retelling of Brad Hill’s formula for personal evangelism
Imagine yourself one-on-one in a spiritual conversation with a friend or neighbor. It is a friendly, cordial conversation and you sense a real opportunity to share the good news of Jesus Christ with this friend, and, moreover, you sense that your friend is really open to hearing a new word about Christian faith and Jesus Christ. What do you do? How do you act? What do you say?
Be Silent: Before you rush to express a bunch of words, take a moment to be silent within yourself. Try to move beyond a concern with your own thoughts, feelings and words and open yourself to what God is doing and saying in the moment. Be still and be silent within yourself in order to open your heart and mind to the work of God’s Holy Spirit.
Stand on Holy Ground: If you are feeling that this time with your friend is a special moment in which you may be able to talk about Jesus, realize that this place is holy ground. This special, spiritual openness that you and your friend are sharing is, in itself, a gift from God. This place or moment when you may be able to share deep spiritual conversation is a place itself created and given to you by God. Like Moses taking off his shoes before the burning bush, recognize the gift of holy ground. How do you act when you are standing on holy ground?
Be the Gospel: Before you can talk about the Gospel or share any words about the Gospel you must be committed to being the Gospel. Of course, we are always growing and maturing in our spiritual commitment, but we need to live authentic lives in Christ which truly struggle with the calling toward Christian discipleship and obedience. Only if we are being the Gospel will we be in a place to truly speak a word about the Gospel.
Invite with Words: And the moment arrives when you truly sense a desire to share a spiritual word about Christ with your friend. What should you say? Invite your friend to join you in wanting to learn more about Jesus by gathering regularly, preferably weekly, to read together one of the New Testament Gospels. We do not need to be Bible scholars or prepared to communicate sophisticated theological doctrines. Rather we need to be willing and prepared to invite our friends to join us on a journey toward Jesus. The words you share need not be brilliant or sophisticated; they need to be invitational. Invite your friend to join you on the fabulous journey of Christian faithfulness.
Throw better parties: This short scheme of personal evangelism could end at this point. But Brad added a marvelous final point, “Throw better parties.” This was his way of saying that we in the church need to have more fun. Too often there is an austere coldness about our faith. Too often we do not fully grasp or communicate the profound joy which we have as believers. ‘Throw better parties’ means that we need to have fun in Christ, with Christ and with one another in the church.
Imagine what a church we would become if we each practiced, in serious and committed ways, these patterns of personal evangelism one person at a time; one lost sheep at a time. May it be so in Christ.
This may be the most clear and beautiful expression of the task of personal evangelism that I have ever heard. It is simple in its clarity but very sophisticated in its understanding of the dynamics of personal evangelism. So here it is: my retelling of Brad Hill’s formula for personal evangelism
Imagine yourself one-on-one in a spiritual conversation with a friend or neighbor. It is a friendly, cordial conversation and you sense a real opportunity to share the good news of Jesus Christ with this friend, and, moreover, you sense that your friend is really open to hearing a new word about Christian faith and Jesus Christ. What do you do? How do you act? What do you say?
Be Silent: Before you rush to express a bunch of words, take a moment to be silent within yourself. Try to move beyond a concern with your own thoughts, feelings and words and open yourself to what God is doing and saying in the moment. Be still and be silent within yourself in order to open your heart and mind to the work of God’s Holy Spirit.
Stand on Holy Ground: If you are feeling that this time with your friend is a special moment in which you may be able to talk about Jesus, realize that this place is holy ground. This special, spiritual openness that you and your friend are sharing is, in itself, a gift from God. This place or moment when you may be able to share deep spiritual conversation is a place itself created and given to you by God. Like Moses taking off his shoes before the burning bush, recognize the gift of holy ground. How do you act when you are standing on holy ground?
Be the Gospel: Before you can talk about the Gospel or share any words about the Gospel you must be committed to being the Gospel. Of course, we are always growing and maturing in our spiritual commitment, but we need to live authentic lives in Christ which truly struggle with the calling toward Christian discipleship and obedience. Only if we are being the Gospel will we be in a place to truly speak a word about the Gospel.
Invite with Words: And the moment arrives when you truly sense a desire to share a spiritual word about Christ with your friend. What should you say? Invite your friend to join you in wanting to learn more about Jesus by gathering regularly, preferably weekly, to read together one of the New Testament Gospels. We do not need to be Bible scholars or prepared to communicate sophisticated theological doctrines. Rather we need to be willing and prepared to invite our friends to join us on a journey toward Jesus. The words you share need not be brilliant or sophisticated; they need to be invitational. Invite your friend to join you on the fabulous journey of Christian faithfulness.
Throw better parties: This short scheme of personal evangelism could end at this point. But Brad added a marvelous final point, “Throw better parties.” This was his way of saying that we in the church need to have more fun. Too often there is an austere coldness about our faith. Too often we do not fully grasp or communicate the profound joy which we have as believers. ‘Throw better parties’ means that we need to have fun in Christ, with Christ and with one another in the church.
Imagine what a church we would become if we each practiced, in serious and committed ways, these patterns of personal evangelism one person at a time; one lost sheep at a time. May it be so in Christ.
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