The "synod assembly" (i.e. an annual denominational conference held in a particular geographic area) was held inside a church building that sits quite a bit north of 8 Mile (the infamous road that separates the largely African American and poverty stricken city of Detroit from the largely white and much more prosperous northern suburbs) and so I didn't actually see the problem first-hand. Instead, I saw it through the eyes of those gathered.
Here's what I thought was interesting: Those who live above 8 Mile seemed much more depressed about what's going on below 8 Mile (and across the region, as a result of it) than those who actually live there. [Not that people outside the city shouldn't be concerned. They should be. Some of them are among the wealthiest people in the U.S. The bishop called on these folks to join him, during this 40th anniversary year of the 1967 riots, in renouncing racism, working toward reconciliation, and advocating economic justice for all. He seems serious about having people actually DO these things.] It's not that people above 8 Mile shouldn't be concerned. But many of those I talked to seemed more than just concerned. One said, eyes darting around at the relatively posh environment we were in, "To look around here, you wouldn't know anything was wrong. But it's just a facade. Underneath the surface, everybody is scared." And, I would add, really sad. It's like the problems have become so enormous, no one can see their way out of the mess.
On the other hand, some of the people who actually live below 8 Mile told me stories about what it's like to be the church there. They see the mess, alright. (One African American woman called it "the uglys.") But that isn't all they see. One pastor (who I'm quite sure is African, based on her accent, in spite of the "Kiss Me, I'm Norwegian" T-shirt she was wearing!) said the neighborhood her congregation's building sits in is about 90% African American. The congregation itself is 60% white but very few of the white members live in the neighborhood. "Why are they there?" I asked. She seemed confused by the question. "Did they used to live in the neighborhood?" Still puzzled. "Did they belong to your congregation when they lived in the neighborhood and just drive back in from the suburbs because they can't stand to leave 'their' church?" She said, "No." Then, I asked again, "why are they there??" She smiled at me like I was stupid, "Because they see that they are needed there." Members of that congregation have taken in dozens and dozens of foster children over the 12 years she has been serving there. Some of those children end up staying in the church...or coming back to it...even as adults. It has become their family. "Many of the other churches in our community, if a young person gets in trouble, tell them 'You can't stay here. You have to leave.' But at our church, we say 'God loves you no matter what.'"
The highlight of the weekend for me was the Detroit metro choir - all black - that sang during worship one night. Because I have faith, "I can!" they shouted/sang. And I believe them.
From above 8 Mile, all you see is the mess. But from inside the uglies, it seems, you can also see Jesus.
Which makes me think a couple of things: 1) We shouldn't be so afraid of messes, 2) If we can see Jesus there, we ought to be able to see Jesus everywhere, and 3) I need to spend a lot more time with people who believe they can.
How about you?
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
Monday, May 14, 2007
We Can!
I spent the weekend with 400+ Lutherans in Shelby Township, outside of Detroit. There are few places in the U.S. more economically stressed than southeastern Michigan and that creates all kinds of other problems. It's been argued, in fact, that Detroit's crisis is no smaller than the one post-Katrina New Orleans is in...and worse, because no one is paying any attention to it.
The "synod assembly" (i.e. an annual denominational conference held in a particular geographic area) was held inside a church building that sits quite a bit north of 8 Mile (the infamous road that separates the largely African American and poverty stricken city of Detroit from the largely white and much more prosperous northern suburbs) and so I didn't actually see the problem first-hand. Instead, I saw it through the eyes of those gathered.
Here's what I thought was interesting: Those who live above 8 Mile seemed much more depressed about what's going on below 8 Mile (and across the region, as a result of it) than those who actually live there. [Not that people outside the city shouldn't be concerned. They should be. Some of them are among the wealthiest people in the U.S. The bishop called on these folks to join him, during this 40th anniversary year of the 1967 riots, in renouncing racism, working toward reconciliation, and advocating economic justice for all. He seems serious about having people actually DO these things.] It's not that people above 8 Mile shouldn't be concerned. But many of those I talked to seemed more than just concerned. One said, eyes darting around at the relatively posh environment we were in, "To look around here, you wouldn't know anything was wrong. But it's just a facade. Underneath the surface, everybody is scared." And, I would add, really sad. It's like the problems have become so enormous, no one can see their way out of the mess.
On the other hand, some of the people who actually live below 8 Mile told me stories about what it's like to be the church there. They see the mess, alright. (One African American woman called it "the uglys.") But that isn't all they see. One pastor (who I'm quite sure is African, based on her accent, in spite of the "Kiss Me, I'm Norwegian" T-shirt she was wearing!) said the neighborhood her congregation's building sits in is about 90% African American. The congregation itself is 60% white but very few of the white members live in the neighborhood. "Why are they there?" I asked. She seemed confused by the question. "Did they used to live in the neighborhood?" Still puzzled. "Did they belong to your congregation when they lived in the neighborhood and just drive back in from the suburbs because they can't stand to leave 'their' church?" She said, "No." Then, I asked again, "why are they there??" She smiled at me like I was stupid, "Because they see that they are needed there." Members of that congregation have taken in dozens and dozens of foster children over the 12 years she has been serving there. Some of those children end up staying in the church...or coming back to it...even as adults. It has become their family. "Many of the other churches in our community, if a young person gets in trouble, tell them 'You can't stay here. You have to leave.' But at our church, we say 'God loves you no matter what.'"
The highlight of the weekend for me was the Detroit metro choir - all black - that sang during worship one night. Because I have faith, "I can!" they shouted/sang. And I believe them.
From above 8 Mile, all you see is the mess. But from inside the uglies, it seems, you can also see Jesus.
Which makes me think a couple of things: 1) We shouldn't be so afraid of messes, 2) If we can see Jesus there, we ought to be able to see Jesus everywhere, and 3) I need to spend a lot more time with people who believe they can.
How about you?
The "synod assembly" (i.e. an annual denominational conference held in a particular geographic area) was held inside a church building that sits quite a bit north of 8 Mile (the infamous road that separates the largely African American and poverty stricken city of Detroit from the largely white and much more prosperous northern suburbs) and so I didn't actually see the problem first-hand. Instead, I saw it through the eyes of those gathered.
Here's what I thought was interesting: Those who live above 8 Mile seemed much more depressed about what's going on below 8 Mile (and across the region, as a result of it) than those who actually live there. [Not that people outside the city shouldn't be concerned. They should be. Some of them are among the wealthiest people in the U.S. The bishop called on these folks to join him, during this 40th anniversary year of the 1967 riots, in renouncing racism, working toward reconciliation, and advocating economic justice for all. He seems serious about having people actually DO these things.] It's not that people above 8 Mile shouldn't be concerned. But many of those I talked to seemed more than just concerned. One said, eyes darting around at the relatively posh environment we were in, "To look around here, you wouldn't know anything was wrong. But it's just a facade. Underneath the surface, everybody is scared." And, I would add, really sad. It's like the problems have become so enormous, no one can see their way out of the mess.
On the other hand, some of the people who actually live below 8 Mile told me stories about what it's like to be the church there. They see the mess, alright. (One African American woman called it "the uglys.") But that isn't all they see. One pastor (who I'm quite sure is African, based on her accent, in spite of the "Kiss Me, I'm Norwegian" T-shirt she was wearing!) said the neighborhood her congregation's building sits in is about 90% African American. The congregation itself is 60% white but very few of the white members live in the neighborhood. "Why are they there?" I asked. She seemed confused by the question. "Did they used to live in the neighborhood?" Still puzzled. "Did they belong to your congregation when they lived in the neighborhood and just drive back in from the suburbs because they can't stand to leave 'their' church?" She said, "No." Then, I asked again, "why are they there??" She smiled at me like I was stupid, "Because they see that they are needed there." Members of that congregation have taken in dozens and dozens of foster children over the 12 years she has been serving there. Some of those children end up staying in the church...or coming back to it...even as adults. It has become their family. "Many of the other churches in our community, if a young person gets in trouble, tell them 'You can't stay here. You have to leave.' But at our church, we say 'God loves you no matter what.'"
The highlight of the weekend for me was the Detroit metro choir - all black - that sang during worship one night. Because I have faith, "I can!" they shouted/sang. And I believe them.
From above 8 Mile, all you see is the mess. But from inside the uglies, it seems, you can also see Jesus.
Which makes me think a couple of things: 1) We shouldn't be so afraid of messes, 2) If we can see Jesus there, we ought to be able to see Jesus everywhere, and 3) I need to spend a lot more time with people who believe they can.
How about you?
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
The Conversion of the Church...Again
A couple weeks ago, I gave a copy of "The Church Inside Out" to a friend whose ideas I've always really admired and who is one of the best thinkers I know. He had never heard of Hoekendijk before but he eagerly read the book overnight. In the morning, my friend said with a smile: "I just kept thinking, as I read it, 'Hey, I thought those were my ideas!'"
Have you ever noticed how, really, nothing is new under the sun?
For example, Darrell Guder is an influential participant in the missional church conversation. I have been especially influenced by his 2000 book, "The Continuing Conversion of the Church" in which he argues that we have to repent of the ways in which we have tried to "reduce" the gospel to individual salvation and trivialized God in order to make God "manageable." This has led, naturally, to a reductionist understanding of the church and its mission.
Instead of a movement that God has set loose in the world to bear witness to the inbreaking kingdom, the church has taken shape as an institution, "its focus...more and more on the administration of salvation. Its worship centered on the message of individual salvation; its sacraments established and regulated the status of salvation; its doctrines sought to define and delimit salvation. The questions it asked and anwered were these: Who is saved? Who is not? How can one be sure? How can salvation be lost? How can it be guaranteed?...More and more the clergy became the special caste of Christians who managed everyone else's individual salvation...[and] the overriding problem repeatedly has been a control-driven combination of concerns for public order, institutional security, and the protection of power" (chapter 6).
Just for fun, I made a list of the things Guder recommends for the conversion (i.e. renewal or transformation) of the church in this new century:
1. Start With Scripture: Ask The Right Questions, Expect Something To Happen, Act Like Christians
2. Order The Ministry For Mission: Redefine The Office (i.e. the job of a pastor is to make sure people are equipped for mission & ministry in their daily lives), Expect More, Catch Up With The Spirit
3. Call People To Mission: Keep The “So That” Front And Center (i.e. the gift of salvation is a call to discipleship), Be Clear about what God has done and is calling us to do
4. Conduct Evangelizing Worship: Expect Jesus To Show Up, Be Open To Change, Worship Is A Public Witness (not a private club), Let The Good News Happen (i.e. we should experience it not just hear about it when we gather)
5. Disagree Christianly: Expect Conflict, Remember That Jesus Is Lord
6. Let Mission Shape The Community: Move Away From Membership, Reverse The Flow - not gathering but sending - not in but out
Want to know more? Read Guder's book.
Or, you could read a little tract written in 1675 by Philipp Jakob Spener (another voice that deserves a new hearing) called "Pia Desideria." Here's his list:
1. Start With Scripture: Make This The Most Important Thing (for laity, too!), Read It In Context, Read It Together in Small Groups
2. Reform The Leaders: Leadership Begins With The Heart, Reform The Process of Shaping Leaders (i.e. seminaries...because the system we have instills arrogance and know-it-allism in them), Tear Off The Masks
3. Exercise The Universal Priesthood: Unmask The Devil (i.e. clericalism), Call People To Action
4. Deliver Evangelizing Preaching: Make It Real, Preach To Save People
5. Disagree Christianly: Stand Firm, But Love
6. Put Faith Into Action: Practice Love, Practice Accountability
Separated by over 300 years of history, these two theologians (prophets?) were saying essentially the same things about what is needed to pull Christianity out of Christendom in order to rescue the followers of Jesus from bondage to hierarcy/clericalism/traditionalism/etc. and set them free to participate in God's loving mission in the world.
The point is: Nothing's new.
The question is: Why would we expect it to be?
Each generation, in its own way, tries to put God into a little box so that we can take control of the gospel. And in each generation God raises up voices that call us to repentance. God raises up people who pray/work/hope/cry out for our conversion. This has been happening since Paul called Peter on the carpet for putting institutional concerns, church polity, and personal security ahead of gospel freedom (Galatians 2:11ff). It is happening today.
I hope that, if you are one of those people who has been praying and working and hoping and crying out for the conversion of the church for the sake of God's loving mission in this world, you will know that you are not alone.
Not by a long shot.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Rascally rabbits
I'm finally on the ground for a few days after several wild weeks of traveling & teaching. I've met hundreds of new people, heard dozens of stories, read a couple of books worth of articles, listened to some good lectures. So much to think about. The most hopeful, most interesting thing I've run across is a piece in this month's National Geographic (ok, I'm a nerd) about WALLS...the wall that is growing across the U.S.-Mexican border, specifically. Wall building is a pretty good way to describe what has happened and is happening across our culture these days...including within Christianity. The author argues that it is a little foolish to think you can ever build a wall that people won't find a way to break down or dig under or go around. In fact, building a wall may be useful in the short term. But mostly they just piss people off. The author used this story to illustrate it:
"In 1859 a rancher named Thomas Austin released 24 rabbits into Australia because, he noted, 'the introduction of a few rabbits could do little harm and might provide a touch of home, in addition to a spot of hunting.' By that simple act, he launched one of the most extensive barriers ever erected by human beings: the rabbit fences of Australia, which eventually reached 2,023 miles. Within 35 years, the rabbits had overrun the continent, a place lacking sufficient and dedicated rabbit predators. For a century and a half, the Australian government has tried various solutions: imported fleas, poisons, trappers. Nothing has dented the new immigrants. The fences themselves failed almost instantly - rabbits expaned faster than the barriers could be built, careless people left the gates open, holes appeared, and, of course, the rabbits simply dug under them."
Rascally rabbits.
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