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.

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?

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.

how to spice up your church newsletter

Between the new project I’m doing for Standard, my regular Buzz column, managing Christian Church Today, and compiling weekly news about the NACC and its speakers, I read a LOT of church newsletters.

They typically include the same things—a note from the senior pastor promoting the new sermon series, announcements of baby dedication day or a youth group fundraiser, small group sign-up info, a link to the church’s Facebook page, an ad for some program created by Dave Ramsey, a quote from some book written by Max Lucado.

Predictable. A bit boring. No wonder your readership isn’t growing!

 

So in the spirit of being a blessing, I offer a few ideas for new features guaranteed to spike your subscription numbers:

–Top Five Tithers, Year To Date

–People Who Haven’t Given One Red Cent

–Match The Elder To His Wife’s Embarrassing Nickname For Him

–Guess Who Confessed This Sin?

–Last Week’s Internet Searches, Sorted By Staff Member

–The Baptistry Pool: Bet On When The Next Person Will Be Baptized

–Congregants Recently Seen Buying Alcohol

–Bible Verses That Sound Dirty

–The Prayer Request You Only Thought You Knew

–Last Person To Give $5 Online Is Directing VBS

–Who Should the Youth Minister Be Dating?

–Guess The Weight Of The Pastor’s Wife (Chik-Fil-A Gift Certificate To The Winner!)

–Remaining Dollars In Thousands Owed by Senior Pastor for Bible College Student Loans (A Chart Updated Weekly Since 1989)

–”The Act of Marriage” Quote Of The Week

–What REALLY Happened At The Women’s Retreat

Any others spring to mind?

new to you friday–give it up for Lent

Earlier this week I wrote about one activity—giving thanks before a meal—that can be deeply meaningful or routine and legalistic. As I saw the many people enjoying their last Diet Coke or signing off Facebook on Tuesday, I realized the observance of Lent can be another.

It’s become trendy among Christian church folks to give something up for Lent, and I admit my own tendency to, at times, avoid doing something simply because it seems everyone else is choosing to. And I still question how much we’re really identifying with Christ’s sufferings or taking personal inventory of our sins by giving up caffeine or the Internet. (Or, as at least one of my friends does, swearing.)


But, ultimately, I add Lenten fasting to the long list of other rituals, practices and disciplines that can be meaningful if approached with the right heart. And while I’m not giving anything up this year, I will sincerely be praying for those of you who are. And watching American Idol.

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The Christian churches have never been big on observing Lent, or the church calendar in general, so I grew up with little to contribute in discussions with friends about what we planned to go without during the Lenten season. I was in college before I saw someone actually walking through Ash Wednesday with ashes on their forehead, or made the connection to the bacchanalia of Mardi Gras the night before.

Although I still attend a church that focuses little attention on these holy days (except Easter, and the almighty Christmas—that one seems to be remembered each year), I have started to be aware of them. The cycles of Advent, Epiphany, Lent, and Pentecost lend a comforting spiritual rhythm to the year; even more importantly, they have the potential to refocus us on Christ in between the “big” holidays.

Still, I’d never considered actually giving something up for Lent. Remembering the cross, yes. Trying to be more reflective and contemplative in the weeks leading up to Easter, sure, okay.

But actually forgoing a regular treat as if it in any way approached Jesus’ sacrifice for us? Thinking my abstinence from candy or coffee even mattered to him? Truth be told, I always found it a little silly and self-important.


So I’m as astonished as anyone that this year I plan to observe Lent by giving up TV and movies.

A few days ago the notion popped into my head as I watched a Seinfeld rerun with one eye and lamented my unread list of “edifying” books with the other. Irony is fun.

Coincidentally or not, the same day I came across a website of prayers and reflections for each day of Lent (click here) that also piqued my interest. An idea was born: no TV, no DVDs, not even a sitcom on iTunes from Ash Wednesday through Easter Sunday.

(And lest you think this doesn’t count because of the writers’ strike, let me remind you that new episodes of LOST begin next week and will continue throughout February and March. So scoff not.)


This little “sacrifice” isn’t about equaling Jesus’ sacrifice, of course. As for whether my 46 days without TV “matter” to God, a myriad of Bible passages teach us anything can be done (or not done) to God’s glory if the heart is right. Putting a check in the offering plate or reading my 3.2 Bible chapters each day can be meaningless routine or intentional obedience. Likewise, the self-imposed deprivation of Lent can be the legalistic restriction so many “Christians-only” see it as, or it can be a quiet act of worship.

I’m going for the latter with Lent this year. And really looking forward to catching up on LOST after Easter.

controversy wins

The kerfluffle over the weekend (other than what on earth Melissa Leo was thinking) was Rob Bell’s new book, “Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived.”

Although the book doesn’t come out until the end of March, reviewers who read some early-advance chapters had a lot to say.

Some were dismayed: “It is unspeakably sad when those called to be ministers of the Word distort the gospel and deceive the people of God with false doctrine,” wrote Justin Taylor (no relation ).

Some were intrigued: “If we’re honest with ourselves, we can acknowledge that we don’t know everything; that we have questions and even doubts about certain things,” said Eugene Cho. “While we might be attracted to absolute clarity, we  must yield to the possibility that there are some things that are mysterious; they are not fully attainable – as of yet.”

And some were smug: “Farewell Rob Bell,” tweeted John Piper, seeming to imply a) Bell is no longer a Christian and b) Piper gets to decide.


But here’s the statement I find most significant:

“What we believe about heaven and hell is incredibly important because it exposes what we believe about who God is and what God is like,” Bell says.


I’ve not read Bell’s book and when I do his conclusions may bother me. But I’m glad he wrote it, because the doctrine of heaven and hell and its implications for evangelism, pluralism and other isms is huge—and a major reason many people can’t accept Christianity.

It’s an issue we must deal with. Unlike Piper, I don’t know what Bell believes or if he is, himself, damned for writing it. (Because I’m going to READ IT FIRST.) But the reaction to the book and the blogs is proof of the need to talk about it.


Here’s the video that sparked the controversy, and here’s Glen Elliott’s recent article on the subject. What do you think?

new to you friday–old girls network

I started the week asking if there was some way to model masculinity for a new generation. So I’ll end it with a nod to the many ways women can also be mentors. It’s a responsibility for all of us—a comment on the original post asked if there might be a twenty-year-old girl who could benefit from a relationship with someone my age. Absolutely. And that girl could be a great role model to a preteen. We’re all “older” to someone.

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Dear older ladies,

First off, do not be offended—by “older” I mean older than me and my friends—not old. Trust me, I’ve been well-trained by my mother that old is at least 10 years older than your current age.

“I just want to age gracefully,” mom says. I’m so lucky to have her as my primary example of godly femininity and she definitely continues to model this as she gets older. Not old. OLDER.


But many women my age and younger don’t have such a great role model, and even those of us who do could benefit from relationships with more than one. I’m writing to ask you to consider committing a few hours each week or even each month for this important job.

As women’s mentoring ministries have hammered into our brains for years, the book of Titus teaches this. And if you want to join or launch a “Titus 2″ group to match older and younger women, that would be a great start. But you don’t have to create anything formal or enlist other volunteers to begin making a difference for the women in my demographic—just choose one or two of us and initiate a relationship.

I know, that’s scary, but if you wait for us to approach you it will never happen. Although I’ve asked a few women to serve as mentors in my life, most of us don’t know we need help—or, if we know, we don’t realize we can ask.


And do we ever need it.

We’re raising kids, raising step kids, trying to get pregnant, trying not to get pregnant. We’re reading “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” because we have no mother, big sister or aunt to clue us in. We’re choosing between homemaking and working outside the home and most of us are trying to do both, in houses with more convenience features than ever before that somehow we still can’t manage to keep clean. No one ever taught us to mend a hem or sew on a button. We can create websites from scratch but not a loaf of bread. We’re working in offices filled with men and holding our own (although still receiving less pay, but whatever). We’re looking at our marriages and wondering if we made the right choice and if we can make this last another forty years and if we want to and if we’re bad people when we don’t.


We need you—your wisdom, your sense of humor, your perspective, your practical help. We don’t expect the answer to every life question; we know we’re facing more choices than any previous generation of women. But we also know the important principles behind making those decisions haven’t changed. Some long-term coaching would be so helpful as we try to figure it all out.

Besides, there are still young women walking around in tube tops. Until every last one of us dresses attractively but modestly, consider yourselves on retainer. Because living gracefully applies to every age, young and old. I mean, older.

Jen

new to you friday–my name is jen and…..

A few weeks ago, Christian Standard published an article by Brian Jones on “why churches should euthanize small groups.” It caused a bit of kerfluffle (75 comments and counting–check it out here) and is interesting since Brian is speaking at the Small Groups Ministry Conference at CCU in April.

But irony is fun, and I resonated with many of Brian’s thoughts. Small groups have never done it for me, but a 12-step group might. As I noted in the original post, the radical honesty and equally-radical acceptance demonstrated in many of these groups is crucial to overcoming addictions—and it should be more a part of our journey to overcome sin.

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This weekend I finished reading Lit, Mary Karr’s memoir about her relationship with her husband, her addiction and her God.

Every page was a poem—no wonder the book appeared on dozens of “best of 2009″ lists last month. But what struck me most was her experience in Alcoholics Anonymous. As she gets sober and commits to daily meetings, Karr encounters a corps of unlikely comrades: a well-known musician who brings homemade cookies. A black man with tattoos from the Khe Sanh Combat Base in Vietnam. A classics professor. Hookers and bankers. Rich women in Chanel suits and mechanics picking at the grease under their fingernails and still-drunk lawyers and a young man with schizophrenia who once attended a meeting wearing a helmet made of tinfoil.

Karr joined the group after hitting bottom—ending a professional appearance by drinking martinis and wine and chartreuse until blacking out, then trying to drive home until a concrete road divider stops her progress and shoots her out of the moving car.


“A moment of deep self-loathing makes not drinking seem your only conceivable option,” she writes. “But I know that day how swiftly such moments pass, how cunning, baffling, and powerful my own logic can be….for the first time, the disease idea isn’t just metaphorical.”


Although every person at AA can tell a similar—or much worse—story, each one is welcomed, valued, listened to. Jack, the schizophrenic, created his tinfoil hat because he was “convinced his girlfriend was beaming messages to him through the radio,” Karr writes. “It’s a tribute to the radical equality of the room that I never overheard anybody challenge the reasoning.”

This radical equality permeates the group because everyone acknowledges their lives “have become unmanageable” and they cannot successfully and sanely live life without help from each other and a Higher Power. There is no pretense about being more together or less sick than anyone else. The meetings and the community and the prayer save their lives.

And so I was deeply moved by Karr’s experience and deeply convicted about the different experience to be found in many churches—places that, after all, should have the corner on the Higher Power.

We do not admit our lives are unmanageable; in fact we usually find our faults both manageable and excusable. We do not pray and admit our past wrongs and make amends with the desperation of an addict out of better options. We do not find it impossible to go on without submitting our will in complete humility.

Because most of us have not hit bottom in our addiction to sin.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe your church accepts anger and skepticism and even hostility toward the Higher Power. Maybe your members regularly take a moral inventory and confess “the exact nature of their wrongs” and “defects of character” to one another. Maybe they daily help each other fight the disease of our fallen natures. Maybe Jack and his aluminum helmet would fit right in.

If so, I haven’t been to your church. But I’d like to, because my name’s Jen, and I’m a sinaholic.