ditching denominations

My local paper, which is usually as informative about current events as the back of a cereal box, ran an article this past weekend about the huge number of Americans leaving the major Protestant “brands” for nondenominational alternatives.

As is customary with The Tennessean, this is not really news, at least to those of us in the church. But I’m interested in your thoughts.


Do you agree with Pete Wilson—are there no longer any advantages to being part of a bigger group?

Or are we just replacing the traditional denominations with newer ones along newer lines—church planting networks, for instance, or regional alliances?


Does size of church matter—is it easier for bigger, richer churches to do their own thing?

What about the sort-of denominations that grow up around some of these bigger churches, like the Willow Creek Association?

What do we do with legitimate doctrinal differences? How alike do we have to be before we work together to plant a church or start a ministry?

And what does this mean for the independent Christian churches and our nondenominational denomination? More church leaders than ever before might be open to our emphasis on the simple New Testament church. Should we broaden our definitions of who’s in and who’s out—and would anyone like to comment on the irony of needing to?

what’s your 20?

My life is completely about me.

It’s an occupational hazard of being single and childless; from spending my time to spending my money, I rarely have to consider anyone else. I even work at home, so I “miss” the conflicts and compromises of office life.

This can be fun, of course (yes, that was me buying a $4 peppermint mocha on Saturday) but it can also create a very self-centered existence. One way God grows our character and maturity is through living in a family or community; although I have lots of friends, I don’t have a daily responsibility to sacrifice for someone else, and I’m probably worse off for it.


So this year I’m participating in Restore Community Church‘s “Big Give.” I heard about the project when interviewing church leaders about their Christmas outreach plans for a future Buzz. (Read all about it in the December 19 issue.) Restore’s “20 for 20″ challenge seemed like the perfect way to intentionally think about others this Christmas.

On Sunday, the church asked members to give a gift to someone—money or time, pricey or not—each day from December 6-25 and share the stories on the Big Give Facebook page.

Yesterday I began by donating $20 to buy a Bible for someone in the CCSI program; in future days I plan to donate to some local causes, randomly pay for other peoples’ $4 coffees, sing carols at a Salvation Army kettle with friends, and just stay open to what opportunities each day brings.

In fact, I’m torn between keeping these to myself (because the only thing less attractive than self-centeredness is regaling others with tales of your sporadic generosity) and sharing them (because the only thing more fun than helping other people is reliving it with a good story).


So how about this: join me!

If you start today, your 20 days will end on the 26th, and it’s high time we began observing Boxing Day in this country, anyway. Then share your stories here and on Restore’s site.

I can’t wait to hear how you bless your neighborhood and your city this month. Or even your office. Now there’s a big give.

guest post #3–a baseball leadership model

A few weeks ago I opened up the blog to guest posts because I knew there were people out there with insights I wasn’t smart enough to think of myself.

Then people began emailing me with ideas and I thought, “Publishing this will confirm that I was not smart enough to think of this myself.”


But in the spirit of humbly taking one for the team I bring you this latest guest post, which also talks about teamwork. Matt Johnson, the author, knows whereof he speaks; he’s the senior minister at Levittown (PA) Christian Church near Philadelphia.

What do you think—are there weaknesses in our church leadership structures? What’s mandatory and what’s optional? Why have we defaulted to the current system?

Share your thoughts. Because I’ll say one thing for guest posts—someone else has to respond to the comments.

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“I don’t like organized religion.” Every few months I run into someone honest and bold enough to say this to my face. “Great,” I respond with a wry smile, “we’re not that organized.”

How about your church? How organized is it? Perhaps a better question: how is it organized? Chances are you either have a CEO or Commander-In-Chief at the top of the flow chart. The Christian churches/churches of Christ are largely the product of frontier America, rugged individualism, and enlightenment thinking, so it’s no surprise that the organizational structures of our long-established churches suspiciously resemble the American government.

“No, no,” you say, “we have elders and deacons, just like the Bible says. Right?” Right. Reality check—we vote a senior minister (president) into office. We elect elders (senators), deacons (representatives), and have board meetings that resemble a joint session of Congress (and are often just as productive).

In many churches we have even initiated term limits for our representatives. Elections and term limits—not sure where to find those in Acts. Matthias was chosen by lot, not ballot.


A more recent development is the emergence of a CEO. Many churches have pragmatically chosen an organizational structure based on a business model. These churches head hunt for the right senior pastor (chief executive officer), hire support staff (vice presidents), and often have outside supervision (board of directors). This business model mentality in the church is why Thom Rainer could make bank by repackaging Jim Collins’ modern business classic Good to Great by researching congregations and calling it Breakout Churches.

Now before anyone gets defensive and holds a committee meeting to condemn this post, let me say I think the New Testament focuses more on principles of leadership than prescribed organizational structure. I am by no means a purist in this area (which will become evident momentarily), and I believe the scriptures are designed to allow flexibility in these matters.

To use a 200-year-old phrase, our organizational structures are man-made innovations. I’m okay with that, as long as we admit it. But I think we have to ask some questions.


First, are our models working? We must admit our current models place a lot of responsibility and authority on one person. In some ways it is an ancient throwback to the days of the mono-episcopate, which was instituted to expedite decisions in times of persecution and instances of heresy. Today some people still see the advantage of one man charting the direction of a church. Others see the dangers. (Insert praise or horror story of a megachurch pastor here.)

Second question: is there a a better way? Maybe. Let me suggest one I’d like to try—the sports model. (I think of it in baseball terms, but you could go with another sport.)


The baseball model would require something distinct from other models—a manager. This person would be responsible not for preaching or teaching, but for calling the shots on the field so that people who are strong in different skills could each perform at their best.

Since I already oversimplified other organizational models, allow me to oversimplify this one. Each church would have one manager (I don’t have a Christianized name for this), pitchers (preaching staff), position players (specialized ministers/deacons) and owners (elders). Additionally, various coaches (mentors) could be brought in from the outside to sharpen the team.


And there is the word—team. This model is truly rooted in a team approach. It does not rely on one person to pitch, hit, manage and take ownership of the team while others take advisory and supplementary roles. It recognizes the diversity of gifts in the church and allows people to serve where they are talented.

This approach could find a nice balance between the value of a manager’s experience and maturity and the benefits of younger staff with fresh talent and energy. It could place the elders in the role of broad-minded vision casters instead of micromanagers. It could allow more members to take their turn on the field and spend less time on the bench (or in the stands).

I’m sure this model has drawbacks. Admittedly, it is radically different from any other model I’ve heard of. It is an innovation (as is any other organizational model), but perhaps one worth exploring.

 

So what about it? Any “pastor emeritus” types want to move to the suburbs of Philly and get back in the game? Until then, please excuse me—I have to attend a meeting with my board…….

brotherhood, can you spare a job?

We’ve all heard the statistics.

Thousands of churches close each year, 1500 pastors leave the ministry each month, and 50% of pastors would leave if they could. (Good stuff at the link, including a typo about “abstinent elders.” Pretty sure they meant obstinate. What are the stats on bloggers who can’t spell?)

Many groups have formed to solve these problems, including two new ones within our own fellowship of churches. The Just One Challenge, spearheaded by the presidents of our 33 colleges and universities, encourages church leaders to preach on Matthew 9:38 and asks church members to pray for “just one” more kingdom worker. Restoration Revolution is a ten-year initiative focusing on prayer, church planting, developing resources and equipping more Christian leaders.

People are responding: the Revolution launched with a service at last weekend’s National Missionary Convention, and the Christian Standard enews has been full of stories about churches participating in Just One.


But after we reported some of these success stories, I received an email.

The church I attend embraced this challenge and set aside some time to pray for the young people in our congregation. There are several potential servant leaders that could accept a call into vocational ministry and for them we are hopeful.

Now a personal and painful observation. I graduated from one of our Bible colleges with honors and I have been visiting the Christian Standard’s “Needs of Churches” section every week and sending resumes for well over three years now. I have a collection of letters indicating that I am underqualified to serve. In networking with other Bible college and Christian college graduates, I know I am not alone.

As I’m sure you’re aware, a four-year degree program is expensive. Though I treasure what I learned and experienced in that process, today I struggle to repay the loans. I work three part-time jobs seven days a week, most weeks, just to make ends meet.

Please don’t misunderstand this as a “woe is me” dialogue. It is not. Though I am saddened and somewhat discouraged that I cannot secure a full-time ministry, what I want to share with you is this:  we want our young men to pursue vocational ministry, but it is not always easy to find a place to serve. I want to encourage our young men and women to pursue education in Christian ministry, but cannot assure them it will be easy to find a job.

I love the church, I love the Kingdom of God, I love the King. But I have a deep desire to serve in full-time vocational ministry that remains just out of reach.

I’ve never met this guy, so I can’t vouch for him. It’s certainly possible he’s lazy or unskilled or hard to get along with. But this email makes me think that’s not the case. Instead, I think there are very few churches willing to hire a young man without any experience. No church wants to be someone’s first church—understandable, but then how are these guys (and gals) supposed to turn the statistical tide?

Just One and Restoration Revolution are great efforts to “raise up a harvest” of new Kingdom workers. But there’s a second challenge we must take just as seriously. If our current leaders don’t mentor, coach, and hire them, how will these thousands of new recruits live out the commitments we’re asking them to make?

new to you friday–I have a theme

Well, Dudley went another (excellent) direction for the 2011 NACC, but I still like my theme.

This past year I worked through a few issues in therapy (best money I’ve ever spent), began editing a new magazine for young girls (more on this soon), made some new friends, tried ziplining, quit a few freelance jobs and picked up a few more, traveled to Chicago by myself, and even played on a kickball team (well, I got on base a few times). It’s been a great year, mostly because I tried some kind-of-scary things.

This Halloween weekend, fear not! What brave thing do you need to do between now and December 31 to make this a great year?

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It’s a safe bet I’ll never be asked to serve as NACC president, but just in case I’ve got my theme ready.


My mom teaches Human Development at CCU, and during the early childhood portion of the course she describes the “fearful, flexible, and feisty” theory, which defines three basic temperaments.

Every child fits one, and I was definitely in the fearful category. Old friends still laugh about my response to the overstimulation and forced playtime of the church nursery—I hid alone under the cribs until Brandon Abercrombie joined me there to pull my hair. I spent many mornings before kindergarten and first grade quietly crying at the breakfast table, and had a meltdown when I couldn’t write the number 2 as well as my teacher, Mrs. Pence. (My mother’s gentle yet firm response: “Jenni, Mrs. Pence is old. She’s been making 2s for a long time. You’re five.”)


And yet, as I’ve moved into adulthood, I find myself taking risks while others play it safe. I went 300 miles away to a college where I knew only one person and majored in English Lit (go ahead, you know you’re dying to say it: “How are you going to get a job with a major like that?”).

I tackled projects, like teaching myself QuarkXPress to design the NACC program book, that seem foolishly difficult in retrospect. (There is something to be said for the ignorance of youth.) I moved to California alone, then moved to Nashville alone. I helped reconfigure a company, then realized I couldn’t take another day in a cubicle and launched out as a freelance writer not knowing if it would actually allow me to pay my bills.


My fearful temperament hasn’t changed, but I’ve learned it’s okay to be afraid—what counts is how you respond.


Think about it: almost every Bible character who allowed God to use his life in a significant way did so because he obeyed in spite of fear. Abraham left everything familiar to travel to a far country, David spent years on the run from a mad king, Mary delivered a baby alone in a cave, Paul survived shipwrecks and endured prison. I’d bet my “Footprints” plaque they felt fear, but the glory—God’s glory—came from their choice to obey anyway.

So that would be my NACC theme: Fear not! The angels said it to terrified shepherds (who then obeyed by finding Jesus). “Be strong and courageous,” God told his people (who obeyed and conquered the Promised Land). “Fear the Lord your God,” he commands us, and we obey, even if it means swallowing our fear of people.

Throughout Scripture, God’s people feel fear as a noun but don’t indulge in fear as a verb, and I’d use my hypothetical presidency to remind God’s people today to follow their example. Dudley, you’re up for 2011—you can have this one if you give me a credit line in the program book.

new to you friday–the last christmas pageant ever

Welcome to October. (Wasn’t it just July?)

Anyway, here we are, and right on cue my church-enews-only email account has started to fill with announcements of Fall Fests and Harvest Parties. Churches have started rehearsals for Christmas choir programs and plays. And I’m still skeptical of the long-term value of any of it. What do you think?

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I’m guessing at least 50% of you attended a “Harvest Party” or “Trunk-n-Treat” at your church last month, and at least 25% more attend a church that held one.

Which is all fine, as far as it goes, although I take issue with two of the most commonly given reasons for these sugar-fests: that they provide a safer alternative to traditional trick or treating, and that they are a powerful outreach activity to the community.


Although some local news stations still dust off the razor-blades-in-the-apples story each October, Snopes.com disproved every instance of candy tampering ever reported in conjunction with Halloween. It’s just a myth—as is, most likely, the adult who actually gave apples.

These events also fail to reach our communities. Lots of people may show up and the church might receive some good press. A few families may even return for a weekend worship service because of the experience they have on your campus—although I’d bet a Snickers bar your church doesn’t know if that’s happening. Meanwhile, we spend hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars recruiting volunteers, organizing games, and haranguing church members for candy donations.

Or there’s Christmas. I don’t have the Snopes link to prove it, but do you know anyone who became a Christian because of a Christmas cantata? Usually the audience for such things is comprised of the family and friends of those in the choir, most of whom are already believers. (This is doubly true for children’s programs.) Again, the investment of time and energy is out of all proportion to the spiritual ROI.


If we really want to show love to our neighbors at Halloween, we could follow the example of my own parents, who make a big pot of apple cider, park themselves in lawn chairs at the bottom of their driveway, and give cups of the hot drink to every tired, cold parent who comes along with his tiny princess/pirate/Disney character. They talk to their neighbors, serve them in a small way, extend friendship, and ooh and aah over little people in costumes. (They give candy, too, the good stuff—kids aren’t excited about cider.)

Or, like Journey Christian Church, we could organize a “Light Night” and challenge members to creatively transform their homes into places of light and welcome on this traditionally dark evening. My fellow blogger Arron, who serves as senior minister at Journey, says the church offered a variety of ways for people to participate (set up games or bounce houses, make popcorn or cotton candy, host costume contests, and–yes!–give out hot cider). Members were encouraged to distribute info about Journey’s programs for kids and copies of the Gospel of John along with the candy.

At Christmas, what if we asked church members to spend Wednesday night having dinner with a non-Christian neighbor instead of attending choir practice with lots of already-Christians? What if, instead of lining the sanctuary with video cameras to capture Junior’s debut as wiseman #3, we opened our homes for Advent parties for all our kid’s friends?


I’m really not lecturing—there’s more I can do in this area, too. But let’s be honest—we do Fall Fests and Christmas pageants because these things make us feel good. If we really wanted to serve and reach non-Christians, we’d be doing something else.

transition points

Bob Russell has set the bar high for us in a number of areas.

Humility. Class. Longevity of ministry.

Oh, and that whole growing a church from 50 to 20,000 thing.

He also modeled transitioning well, from the first leadership team discussions about succession planning in 1999 to the memorable “baton-passing” during his last service as Southeast’s senior minister in 2006.

Bob shares the story of this journey, the lessons learned, and suggestions for other leaders in his new book “Transition Plan.” The publishers mailed me a review copy recently and I’m glad to share it with you as an excellent resource.



Rick Warren has praised Southeast’s transition from Bob to current senior minister Dave Stone as the only perfect one he’s seen, but this book is helpful because Bob also shares some of the things he would have done differently.  He admits the occasions he struggled and the principles he followed.

“Some ministers feel the choice of their successor should be left up to God and that any effort at a transition plan is a presumption on God’s will,” he writes. “But we don’t take that same approach to other transitions. We make out a will for our children, we train someone to take our place at work, and we mentor assistant coaches in athletics. Why would we give less attention to the Kingdom of God?”

Bob showed us how to grace-fully hand your life’s work to the next generation. Whether you’re a minister or a business leader, you can learn from his example. I have a second, autographed copy of the book which I’ll give away to one of you—just leave a comment on this post by 5 p.m. EST on Thursday. Tell me about the transition you’re involved in, the one you need to be planning, the one you mishandled, or what you’ve learned in this area. If you really have nothing on topic to share, offer a suggestion of what I should be for Halloween this year. (I’m stuck. Why does every Halloween outfit for women involve short skirts and plunging necklines? But that’s another post.)

church fatigue, part 2

Last week’s post, in which I confessed my boredom with attending church services, hit a nerve.

People re-posted it on their Facebook pages, linked to it on Twitter, and left dozens of comments expressing both anger and agreement with my thoughts. A few, including Skye Jethani, even wrote blog posts of their own in response.


Every blogger, if she’s honest, loves finding a topic that generates discussion (and page views). But I’m sad it was this one, because it means many of you share my “church fatigue.”


There was the anonymous pastor who confessed his own boredom with the services he himself plans and leads, a 70-something Christian who admits to being bored in church for most of his life, and a 40-something who’s resigned himself to it but wonders why it’s so hard to have this discussion and why his church’s answer is to volunteer more.

I wish these readers, and the many others who shared their stories, had said my perspective was incomprehensible. Unfortunately, the numbers who resonated with my confession point to some larger problems in the way we “do church.”


Here are my thoughts after a week:

—Skye nailed it with his observation that we are longing for “the transcendent” in our worship. “This is likely what’s behind, in part, the movement of many evangelicals toward high-church traditions and liturgy,” he writes. “They’re hungry for something beyond culturally-familiar or Christianized versions of pop trends.”

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard leaders proclaim the need for church to be “relevant” to our culture. They mean well, but relevance is not to be found in a music style or a sermon series playing off the name of a popular TV show. It comes from Jesus, the Jesus who hung out with broken people, the Teacher who modeled a new way to live in relationship with God, the Redeemer who lived among us and still meets us at the Communion table. Jesus is never irrelevant, never boring. Why is our worship?

—I don’t think our preachers and worship leaders are responsible for me having that transcendent experience every week. For one thing, we all define that differently. Recently I’ve experienced God by listening to music and watching a purple sunset, by crying with a dear friend who lost her husband to a heart attack, by reading and thinking about good books, and by exchanging ideas with perceptive mentors. Other people will have very different lists and no one weekly experience is going to speak to each of us equally. (Nor is the emotional impact of that experience the correct measurement.)  Seeing a worship leader as responsible for my relationship with God ignores biblical teaching and guarantees these pastors will feel a burden to, as one commenter put it, get it right at the front of the room. “I know I carry that burden,” he said. “And it’s wearing me out.”

—That being said, if going to church matters, then it matters what we do, and someone has to lead it. But must that look the way it does?

I like what Jeremy said in response to Skye’s blog:

“….many passages in the Epistles make me wonder if the traditional American church organization really is (or contains) a Biblical church.

I Corinthians 14 speaks to it most directly. “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up. … Let two or three prophets speak, and let the others weigh what is said. If a revelation is made to someone else sitting nearby, let the first person be silent. For you can all prophesy one by one, so that all may learn and all be encouraged.”

We pride ourselves on restoring New Testament Christianity, but I’ve never been to a service like this. Why not?

—Have we simply over-elevated the importance of one weekly service (and our expectations of it)? Dan Kimball’s books remind us we’ve made weekly worship the entrance point for seekers and the “if you do nothing else, do this” baseline of our faith.

According to Alan Hirsch and Tim Stevens, that’s only effective for a shrinking minority. Instead, what if consistent participation in service to others and personal worship were the true indicators of a person’s Christianity, and corporate worship was less about the seeker and more about equipping the disciple to live this sacrificial lifestyle?

Of course, that would require a congregation full of growing Christians, all serving and praying and forgiving and submitting and leading from their gifts. That’s messy and difficult. It’s hard to manage and requires many, many leaders each discipling a handful of others over time. It’s no wonder we’ve defaulted to a Sunday routine. But if God intended the church to be more than this, it’s also no wonder we’re bored.


I don’t think I get to complain about something if I’m not willing to be part of the solution. But I’m still not sure what that means. How do you think weekly church needs to change? Is going micro the solution? What can we do individually to make the corporate experience more meaningful, for us and the others who attend?

new to you friday–OOAFITYSK

In the comments to my original post, Arron confirmed that Andrew is a Christian church boy, which is nice to know since I have moved from casual fan to worshiper of Mr. Peterson in the time since I first posted this and it seems less sacrilegious if he’s at least rooted in my own denomination.

His latest album, Counting Stars, released this week and it is one of his best—which is saying something. His songs wrestle with faith and hope and the story of God’s redemption. They are insightful but always singable. And they still make me jealous that Arron gets to be Andrew’s friend.


Go buy it now. Go on.

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Usually, an installment of "One Of My Friends I Think You Should Know" sticks with its name and introduces you to someone whose work---whether it's preaching, writing, leading worship, or whatever---achieves excellence. These people also happen to be a lot of fun---have you ever noticed how often the two go together?

But today we break from tradition to introduce Andrew Peterson, One of Arron's Friends I Think You Should Know. I first became aware of Andrew after his appearance at Tokens, and since then his CD "The Far Country" has been on frequent rotation in my car and on my iPod.

I like all ten songs from the album, but a few stand out: "Mountains on the Ocean Floor" reminds listeners that God is always moving, always transforming---even when we can't see it. The title track captures our longing for God in the midst of a land that's not our home, and the beautiful lyric of "More" proclaims, "There is more/More than all this pain/More than all the falling down/And the getting up again/There is more/More than we can see/From our tiny vantage point/In this vast eternity/There is more."

Apparently, in addition to a huge talent for transforming spiritual insights into singable poetry, Andrew also has some kind of connection to our churches, because the CD's liner notes thank a First Christian Church in Florida and........... Arron Chambers! Who was already a friend of mine you should know, but has now been elevated to OOMFIWBSF (one of my friends I will be shamelessly flattering) so I can score some good concert tickets sometime or maybe even be Andrew Peterson's friend myself. I bet he's fun.

thoughts on visiting “the tribe”

This past Sunday night I had an opportunity to visit The Tribe, the church in Los Angeles where Alan Hirsch and his wife Deb serve and where Deb leads as a minister. I visited with my friend Mel McGowan and we were privileged to participate in the celebration of the church’s move into a new leased warehouse space.

(One of the things I love about LA is no one thinks it’s odd to see a group of 60 people parading down Albion Avenue carrying sofa cushions and following a very tall man wearing a top hat and hoisting a lit torch.)

So it was an interesting evening. In many ways, this artistic community fit my expectations; it’s a young crowd, mostly single. The people were warm and welcoming. The communal meal included hummus.

In other ways it didn’t. There was less ethnic diversity than I expected (the crowd was mostly Caucasian) and only one child.


But the most surprising thing was how closely this gathering resembled what we know about the early church. The Tribe gathers each Sunday night for a shared meal, then worships through original music, visual art, and study of the Bible. They rip pieces from a loaf of bread, dip them in a cup of wine, and celebrate communion together. They sing acapella and accompanied by drums. They know each other well and pray for each other. They toss crumpled bills into a bright red tote bag to cover the warehouse rent and learn from a small leadership team who coordinates the the weekend services and receives no salary.

I’m not saying this a better way to do church and community, but it does seem more like a New Testament congregation than many of our “Restoration” churches modeled on that ideal. Yet I suspect many of us would be uncomfortable there—which is the most interesting thing of all.