phrases in my “German At A Glance” handbook I REALLY hope I won’t use during my trip
Die Badewanne ist verstopft. (The bathtub is clogged.)
Gibt es auch ein Luftkissenboot? (Is there also a hovercraft?)
Ich will mein Tanzbein schwingen. (I want to shake my dancing legs.)
Gibt es ein FKK Strandbad in dieser Gegent? (Is there a nudist beach in this area?)
Fuhren Sie Unterwasche aus naturlichen Fasern? (Do you carry underwear made of natural fibers?)
Mehr Haarspray. (More hairspray.)
Ich habe mir an harten Nussen einen Zahn Ausgebissen. (I broke a tooth on hard nuts.)
Ich bin einem Nervenzusammenbruch nahe. (I’m close to a nervous breakdown.)
Ich bin Auslaender. Aber ich bin nicht dumm. (I’m a foreigner. But I’m not stupid.)
jen’s list
One of the many hats I wear is content manager/editor for Christian Church Today. This site includes news and blog posts from Christian church leaders, a short info article about these churches adapted from Christian Standard, a jobs board, and other features.
But the most popular page on the site is the Locator. Type in a church and find its address and phone number—maybe even a staff listing if someone from the church has emailed me recently with the latest news. Or type in a city and find all the Christian churches in that area. It’s a handy tool that’s used a lot.
Last week I received an email via the site from a guy (we’ll call him Chris) who wanted to add his church. The church’s website indicated it was affiliated with, or was perhaps even a campus of, North Point in Atlanta. I wrote him back.
“Thanks for your email. Wanted to clarify that on CCT we list churches affiliating with the Restoration Movement. That’s not to be exclusive or denominational—although I realize it may sound that way—it’s just that the specific mission of the site is to serve this group of churches and be a directory for them.”
He wrote me back.
“I went to Restoration schools and worked for a Christian church and that church helped plant the new church. What defines a Christian church enough to make the listing? I am a Christian church guy, and I planted a church.”
The exchange reminded me of the conversations I participated in during a recent gathering of our younger leaders. Although some people may see the current downward trends in denominational loyalty or convention attendance as a negative, this group felt it was a natural next step in living out our movement’s philosophies. If we really aren’t the only Christians, and we’re really acting like it, it’s inevitable—and positive—for the boundary lines between us to dissolve.
However, this also means it’s harder to define what sets us apart, and different groups use different measures.
These pastors, many of them church planters, shared their struggles to get funding from existing congregations because they didn’t include “Christian” in the new church’s name or collaborated with churches “outside the fold.”
“When you try to live out the original spirit of the Restoration Movement, you’re branded an outsider to it,” said one pastor. “We don’t want to be a denomination but we definitely act like one.”
“I don’t know what people are so afraid of,” said another. “We spent all these years defining what we’re against. Now we aren’t sure what we’re for.”
It bothers me when working with, praying for and accepting other Christ-followers as brothers somehow threatens our cozy fraternity originally built on just these principles. But I realized I was guilty of the same thing.
There’s nothing wrong with having an online directory devoted to “our” churches, but who gets to decide which churches qualify? Do they make the list if the pastor went to one of our colleges? If the church name includes the word “Christian”? If they dunk people and serve communion each week? And are efforts at definition worth our time in a world full of people who just need Jesus?
Chris went to our schools and considers himself “one of us.” He WANTS to be connected to us. He’s working with other believers to preach the gospel. He’s committed to teaching the Bible. And he’s “shaking hands” with people across denominational lines while challenging the necessity of those lines.
So I added his church to the CCT directory. I think he fits right in.
a list for friday–things you will never hear me say
“Steven Tyler really has some insightful comments on American Idol, doesn’t he?”
“Actually, I’ve been looking for a reason to move to North Dakota.”
“Sure, let’s pierce that.”
“Do you have to kill the mouse?”
“I don’t know, running a marathon might be fun.”
“It’s fine that your dog barks all night—I’m just glad he’s happy.”
“Told you I’m a good bowler.”
“This pinot is lush and unctuous….I’m getting hints of cherry and currants with confident fruit-forward flavor notes that capture the soul of the soil.”
“The movie was better.”
“Shhhh…..football’s on.”
“Really wish I could gain a few pounds.”
“Palin 2012!”
“Of course you can take the whole Bible literally.”
“It’s been three days—guess it’s time for a shower.”
“Well, that’s what I think, but then I’m just a girl.”
Jen U
Last week I realized two things.
I spent three days in another gathering of great Christian leaders discussing church and cultural trends and theology. And I was reminded for the 389th time that because I’ve not gone to seminary or studied some of the thinkers and topics covered there, I have less to contribute to these discussions.
During this meeting we also had the opportunity to share something good happening in our ministries. From church merges or learning Spanish to preach in two languages (whoa) to community gardens feeding the homeless, these guys had great stories to share about making a difference. And I realized I once again had little to contribute because I spend my days crossing off copywriting and social media to-do lists that make groups like theirs successful.
“Helping organizations doing good to do better” is my Twitter bio and it’s grown into a fun career. But it means I have nothing that’s “mine”—nothing I lead, nothing I’ve launched. At the same time, I feel unequipped to strike out as a leader without more grounding in history, philosophy and strategy.
So I need a project and I need to learn—how did I not think of Jen University before now?
This new school will include books, blogs, podcasts and magazines. It will not include homework, papers, internships, sororities, or courses involving terms like “cosine” or “lipid.”
To paraphrase Good Will Hunting, you can get a great education for $1.50 in library fines (although I may use this as an excuse to buy a Kindle). I’m compiling a master list of stuff to read and I welcome your suggestions for the best resources in biblical studies, ministry trends, spiritual formation, leadership, theology and doctrine. (I’d even like to see the syllabi from your own graduate programs—email jen@seejenwrite.com.)
It”s time to think about what I want to accomplish before my status changes from “emerging leader” to “over 40, kind of emerged, and not that effective.” Tomorrow I turn 35 (good grief) and Jen U officially begins—Kindle donations welcome.
future tense
For the past two days I’ve been privileged to be part of a group of 25 Christian church leaders gathered to discuss the future of the church. (Special thanks to Christian Standard, Orchard Group, and Provision Ministry Group for sponsoring the event.)
Yesterday morning we broke into groups of six to dig into the question of the church’s future, especially the next ten years.
Some were very optimistic: “I think we are moving toward our greatest opportunities to share the gospel.”
Some were less positive: “We don’t have a shot at global evangelism unless we change.”
Some gave me stuff to think about for days: “Has our pragmatism neutered the church? Major changes to the way we do church could threaten the livelihoods we’ve come to enjoy as full-time pastors.”
When asked my thoughts (offered with reluctance, believe it or not, because I was one of only three women in the group and the only one not on staff at one of our churches or colleges), I shared your response to my church fatigue and said I think inertia will carry our churches for the next ten years, but probably not the next twenty. (After that, both the boomers and their children will be older and it will be in the hands of the next generation, who are not reached by or satisfied with our current methods.)
More on this soon—I recently created a video about it for the Destiny Leader conference. Right now I want to hear what YOU think—where is the church going in the next ten years?
new to you friday–how to stop worrying
Be someone other than Jennifer Taylor.
Kidding, of course, although this is a good first step since I have completely mastered worrying and could compete at a Worry Olympics with other champions.
It began early.
Jen, age 5: (holding paper and crayons, sobbing): Mom, I can’t make my fours right. I make them backwards. (More sobbing.) Mrs. Pence makes her fours the right way and I can’t do it!
(Mrs. Pence was my kindergarten teacher, a lovely lady who introduced me to turnips and wrote a poem about me that had nothing to do with turnips before retiring the next year. But I digress.)
Mom: (patient smile): How old is Mrs. Pence?
Jen (trying to breathe): Old.
Mom: How long has she been making her fours?
Jen: A long time. Because she’s old.
Mom: How long have you been trying to do your fours?
Jen (a dim light dawning in her tear-soaked little brain): One day.
Mom: Right. I promise before you are old you will make your fours just fine. You just need to practice some more.
Sniffling and hugs…………….end scene.
So the ability to turn small issues into huge crises is one of my biggest gifts.
But I’m now closer to 35 than 5 (gulp) and it’s time to get a handle on this. Although the situations are far less common now, I still tend to turn into that teary five-year-old (inside, anyway) when things I care about don’t go as planned.
Worry is one of those acceptable sins, like gluttony and gossip, that we minimize or say we can’t help. Sometimes we also cause ourselves more worry by believing if we could just “trust God more” we would stop fretting, and therefore we are bad Christians with little faith.
I disagree with both perspectives.
I think it’s a control issue.
Author and Christian psychologist Henry Cloud writes, “Worry is often the non-acceptance of situations that you cannot do anything about.”
This is an amazing insight, because it positions worry as the symptom, not the core problem. The real issue is an inability to accept our lack of control over other people and circumstances. We are unable to accept that we may not get the house we put an offer on, or the job we interview for, or the relationship we want. We can’t control the other couple making an offer or the opinions of the interviewer or the feelings of the potential friend or date.
We can do some things, of course: work with a good realtor and make a competitive offer, research the company and practice our interview skills, share our wishes for the friendship. But ultimately we cannot make anyone else do anything, and we certainly can’t control the timeline of their response. We must simply do what we can and let it go. (This is where the trust-in-God discussion becomes more helpful.)
You lucky non-worrier types are thinking, “What’s the big deal? Of course you can’t control everything. Why waste all that emotional energy?” To which I say to you, on behalf of all worriers everywhere, yes, we know, and thank you for pointing out that we are wasting time and energy on this because now that gives us something else to feel bad about. Also, please ask your spouse what aspects of your “laid-back” personality drive them nuts.
As for me, one thing I have accepted is it’s time to deal with this issue, this year. After all, I did finally learn to make my fours. I can do this, too.
what singles want to tell your church
—We’re not a life stage. Although statistically many of us are in our 20s and early 30s, to equate singles ministry with a “college and career” group leaves many of us out. A divorced, widowed, or never-married person in her 30s, 40s and beyond has little in common with the never-married, childless, recent college graduates involved in these groups.
Singleness is not just a phase of life for the young who haven’t yet married—it’s a marital status that can be part of life at any age.
—We can do more. Whether it’s expanding that group to reach other singles like us, joining a Bible study, teaching VBS or serving on a praise team, many of us can often serve more and more often than our married friends. Although we have full lives and demanding jobs, those of us without kids probably have a bit more free time (and money) to contribute.
—But we need to be challenged. An occupational hazard of long-term singleness is selfishness. From the furniture in our homes to the appointments on our calendar, our lives revolve around our own needs and interests. We don’t want to be self-centered, but it takes effort. Challenge us to lead a small group, build homes in Mexico, or tutor a child.
—Invite us into community. These activities not only serve others, they create new ways for us to build relationships. We need regular opportunities to connect with other people because single life can be lonely, and we like the idea of the church as an extended family with room for us. But we don’t want to intrude on your literal family or be the proverbial fifth wheel. We love when you invite us to have lunch after church, include us in a holiday celebration, or encourage our relationship as an “aunt” or “uncle” to your child who thinks we’re awesome. (We are, by the way—and we give great birthday presents.)
—One is a whole number. We live in a culture geared toward couples, and we love you guys. But please don’t feel sorry for us. Most of us who want to be married eventually will be, and in the meantime we are enjoying life. Please don’t try to “fix” us by fixing us up (unless we ask you to, of course) or constantly reassure us we’ll find the right person someday. We’re working on becoming the right person, which is a better bet long-term and a lot more fun, too.
Singletons, what else do you want your church to know?
new to you friday–a question for pastors
I wrote the original post after the earthquake in Haiti, but the same questions apply when it comes to helping Japan. For the record, I am hugely in favor of giving money to these causes. But as one person commented, “People will give to what they perceive as a real need, and it’s possible they do not see supporting ‘church’ as a real need anymore.”
91% of the dollars given to Red Cross provide food and water and medical attention to hurting people. With 75% of a church budget going to staff and facilities and just 10% going to missions, it’s understandable when people direct their charitable dollars to organizations with less overhead and more immediate impact.
But at church, many of us also want concert-level production in the worship center and electronic check-in systems for the kids—all of which cost money. Are we willing to forgo these things to increase our missions giving? What really makes us more “relevant” to the world—and to an emerging generation that values social transformation more than bells and whistles?
For years pastors have told us (usually during stewardship sermons) we need only look at our checkbooks to discover what we value. And it’s true—most of us could definitely spend less on non-essentials and give more to mission. But surely the same is true for churches. What do our budgets say about our true priorities?
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Pastors, a non-PC question: Did it bother you to see so many of your church members give money for Haiti relief when so many aren’t giving to the church?
In January, US nonprofit groups received $528 million in donations for Haiti. Yet recent studies by LifeWay Research indicate that more than 50% of US churches have been negatively affected by the country’s recession and 3% are considering closing their doors. The Barna Group reported similar findings; about 20% of churches have had to cut staff and, ironically, 1 in 25 churches have also cut missions support. (Interestingly, only 3% cut back on building plans and facility improvements. But that’s a subject for another day.)
I’m not saying we shouldn’t give to Haiti relief efforts. But it must be hard to support the Haiti push with an undivided heart when the offering comes in below budget every week and you’re deciding which staff person to lay off next.
People love to give to big causes, but they don’t want to pay the light bills. They’ll give $100 one time but not 10% every week. It’s understandable (as noted earlier, I hate tithing) but our churches are suffering.
Does it bother you? Be honest. It would bother me.

