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September, 2012

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The awkward middle

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Churches have to cater for, roughly speaking, two populations: the newcomers, people who have never been to this particular church before; and the established congregaion, who need perhaps more challenging than welcoming. Of course, the picture painted here is very sketchy: it doesn’t consider the nuances of visitors or occasional worshippers. But even taking these into account, there are roughly two groups: the new faces and the familiar faces.

All the churches I’ve been to embrace their mission to welcome all. I remember walking alone into church many times (as a visitor in many cases, but also as a first-time visitor) and every single time, I was introduced to many people, including more often than not the pastor, and feeling that people were taking a genuine interest in me. Tea and coffee after the service was also always appreciated. Especially with biscuits.

All the churches I’ve been to also have a lot of activities going on for their members: lots of ways to serve, midweek groups, community action, etc.: the church is not a continually repeated welcome. A good church spurs individual spiritual growth, and does not start over from scratch every week.

Of course, there is a tension for church leaders between serving newcomers and serving regular faces: how much should they explain, say, the structure of the service? Plug mid-week groups? There’s a danger of boring the regulars with the same information every week, and a danger of newcomers not knowing what to do. There are many practical ways of solving this: print the information – and, first and foremost, encourage the congregation itself to be welcoming to new faces, etc. It shouldn’t all come from the top!

So far, so good: we have churches that manage to cater for two distinct populations fairly well. The problem is: you don’t suddenly change from new face into regular face. There is an awkward middle: one where you haven’t, for instance, decided to get stuck in in that particular church, but no longer get the welcome you did as a “new face”. One where you’re neither an old face nor a new face. My experience is that most churches are in denial about this awkward middle, probably because they don’t know how to address it.

There are churches that outright try to skip the awkward middle by making newcomers sign up to a wealth of activities on their first day. Or at least to the mailing list, which then gets indiscriminately used. For all intents and purposes, once you’re on that list, you are no longer seen as a newcomer. This strategy works with a very limited population: those who (a) know they won’t be going to a different church, and (b) have a passion for church life that is burning enough for them to unreservedly sign up when offered. But there will be a large-ish number who will not want to sign up straight away. I tend to fall in that category. And for us, it is damaging, because we feel a certain guilt at not having signed up when it was first offered, imagine we have missed the train, and end up disengaged with church activities.

There are churches that fall on the other end of the spectrum. The awkward middle is simply an extended newcomer phase, and there is a definite shyness in sharing either opportunities for service or mid-week groups. Transitioning from newcomer to known face becomes, then, frustrating.

As far as I can tell, there is no magic formula that will sort out the issue of the awkward middle for everyone at once – simply because when that awkward middle happens is very much dependent on the individual. But here are a few ideas:

  • most importantly, know and care for all individuals coming to your church. Remember what they tell you, but don’t let that stop you from going and talking to them – there is always more to say! Only ever offer further involvement in the framework of that caring relationship. This means that you should know at least a few things about whom you’re inviting.
  • as a church member, be transparent about your extra activities. Invite newcomers to non-threatening, one-off (even if repeated one-offs!) events: do not call them “small group”, or anything that would suggest that once you go there, you must continue to do so.
  • remember that small groups, or whatever other activity you get involved in, is not an end in itself: community and growth tend to be the purpose. If that is clear,
  • as a church/team leader, make it easy for people to help out “on the day”, without commiting to further service on further weeks. This could be a slot on the rota that is deliberately left empty (help with tea, or with welcome, etc.)
  • periodically ask for help in various specific teams. Do not limit the notices to the “big jobs” held by one person only, and that feel out of reach!

Any other ideas?

Are you a shoes off church?

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The other day, a friend came over to watch a film. As he got in, he saw a shoe rack, and naturally took off his shoes. Our house doesn’t operate a shoes off policy, but seeing all these led him to, naturally, take his shoes off.

Every place has its own set of rules as to what is acceptable or not. And that’s fine – Biblical, even. But if we’re trying to be welcoming to people wherever they are, we have to also let them feel that they can be themselves. That they can, if they wish to, keep their shoes on – within the limitations we have had to put in place for everyone to be able to enjoy church and fellowship. To do that, we need to make sure that we don’t look like a sanitised, sterile place, where mud is to be kept out at all cost.

That means that churches and chaplaincies alike have to be places where people are comfortable with the more personal aspects of sin, and visibly so. And for that to happen, it means that those at the top should show themselves as people who sometimes struggle (without, of course, exalting sin!) and that the congregation should do the same (without, of course, turning the competition for who’s the holiest into a competition for who’s the most sinful!)

That is important in order to be welcoming – in order to offer people a place where they can embark on their own process of sanctification from the place that they are at, rather than having to double their own efforts to catch up with the rest of the congregation in order to come fully into the church. In order for their whole persons, sins, warts and all, to embark on that process of sanctification, rather than leaving that muddy shoe on the doorstep.

It is also important even for someone like me who already feels welcome in the church or the chaplaincy, because if I leave that muddy shoe on the doorstep and then pray for forgiveness, am washed clean, and then go back out the doors of the church, I will put that muddy shoe back on. Only by taking full stock of my own sin can I feel the liberation of redemption. And I can’t do that if I’ve left my sin at the door of the church – whether willingly or not.

But it feels like, although we know we can come with our muddy shoes, and that anyone is welcome to come and worship, regardless of where they’re at – although we know this really well, we are complacent in how we make that known to others. Our first message should not be “You are forgiven”; it should be “Come as you are.” The exhilarating feeling of forgiveness can only come afterwards.

What are you doing to reassure people they can keep their shoes on, regardless of how muddy they are?

It’s all about the key change(s)!

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There’s a great piece of liturgy we’ve been using all summer for communion. The response is always the same and goes:

“This is our song. Hosanna in the highest.”

Unusually, though, the call changes (subtly) halfway through the liturgy. It goes from “This is his story” to “This is our story”.  The moment it changes is after the description of the Last Supper – where, through communion, we are invited to the body of Christ. We make the story ours in accepting that invitation.

Photo: Tim Geers, under CC license

In keeping with the musical imagery of the prayer, I’ll call that evolution a key change. And key changes are everywhere in our lives, and they are good:

  1. key changes are exciting! (yes they are. They are most definitely NOT cheesy).
  2. the melody stays the same. The new creation is redeemed and freed from sin, but is the same human being with the same gifts and the same interests. We sound different, but we remain the same.
  3. key changes are usually up, but sometimes down. What feels like losing ground sometimes is the best way to progress.
  4. key changes very rarely happen to a single part. If the vocals change key, but not the band, there will be clashes. So don’t do it alone: involve others with you. At the Last Supper, Jesus did not break the bread and drink the wine on his own. It was done, not just for, but also with a community. This, indeed, became our story.
  5. it is easier for a choir to go into a key change if they are led into it by a soloist or a single note on the piano. Leaders, your role is to help these key changes happen. But don’t feel like you have to drag the key change for a whole verse – leave it on one note and just see who follows: sometimes, it is enough!
  6. key changes happen at pivotal moments. It’s rare to change keys mid-verse (though it happens). Learn to identify opportunities for growth.
  7. it’s not worth changing key for the sake of changing key. There are some songs with 13 key changes, but they are rare. If you change key too much, or push yourself too much, you may find you break your voice. Take it slowly, and warm up!

Revvers: spot the songs I was thinking of.
Everyone else:
add your own thoughts :-)

The conundrum of seeking forgiveness

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Forgiveness is at the heart of much Christian practice. Communion liturgy mentions it, as the blood of Christ washes our sin away. Some widespread evangelism strategies give it a prominent place, going something like this*:

  1. We are all sinners and deserve the wrath of God.
  2. Jesus took on our sin on the cross and bore the penalty for our sins.
  3. We therefore stand justified and forgiven in the eyes of God.

The direct link between sin and justification makes it sound easy. It looks as though repentance automatically leads to forgiveness. And in a way, it does – because God’s nature is always to have mercy. But it makes it look silly too. On its own, it’s petty. Arrogant. Why would God want us to say sorry for our sins in order for them to be forgiven?

Photo: Roger Davies, reused under CC License

Behind this question, there is a double misconception: firstly, about the place of forgiveness in Christianity: we cannot think of sin or forgiveness without placing them in the context of God’s incredible love for us – lest we make that forgiveness a mechanical thing. Secondly, a misconception as to what being sorry actually means.

When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.

(Luke 7:37-38 NIV)

Is that the attitude we take when we pray for forgiveness? When I realise my sin, I sometimes say “oops! Sorry God”. The assurance of forgiveness makes me treat the grave matter of forgiveness and repentance very lightly. It is actually very rare for me to have that broken and contrite heart. But where that happens – when I do feel contrite, it feels too big to bring to God. Too big to be forgiven. This is the true conundrum of seeking Jesus’s forgiveness: either the guarantee of forgiveness makes it so I don’t come forward with a contrite spirit, or my contrite spirit stops me from coming forward. This is why the sinner in Luke 7 is weeping. This is why the prodigal son goes back to his father’s as a hired servant. This is why the tax collector cries out in the temple: because they have all grasped the grave matter of their sin, and seek forgiveness without thinking they will get it. The reaction is overwhelming. The relief is great. From that relief, comes the joy of dwelling in Christ and true repentance.

I’m not arguing that we should make a show of being contrite. I don’t think we have to weep to show true anguish or sorrow. I don’t even think we should feel much anguish or sorrow. But we should not trivialise sin by making it commonplace (yes, we all do sin, in word thought or deed, but should we lump all our sin together?). In the same way that God is not a vending machine when it comes to petitionary prayer, He is not a vending machine when it comes to asking for forgiveness. Approach asking for forgiveness with humility and with a contrite heart, but also with the wisdom of the Psalmist who said

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

(Psalm 51:17 ESV)

How do we do that? To be honest, I don’t really know, and would be grateful for any pointers. All I can do is to turn to Jesus (rather than, as I often do, my own mind) as the convictor of my sin, and pray that the Holy Spirit create in me a contrite heart. Not for the sake of being sad – that would be stupid – but for the joy of being truly forgiven.

How do you seek God’s forgiveness?

* It’s easy to criticise any evangelism strategy; but that is not the point of this post. It would, after all, be too easy if I didn’t offer anything to replace this approach (which I may attempt in a future post). The main purpose of this post is to reflect on forgiveness of sins – and even then, I only scratch the surface. What about our commission to forgive sins? What about sinning against the Holy Spirit? Sin and forgiveness are vast subjects which could (and do) fill up books! If you’ve got some to recommend, please let me know!

7 ways in which the Doctor is like God, but not quite

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To celebrate the return on television of the greatest show ever for its seventh new series, I thought I’d draw seven comparisons between Doctor Who and God.

Photo: Ben Sutherland, under CC License (Doctor Who and the TARDIS are trademarks of the BBC)

1. The Doctor regenerates: there are (so far) at least eleven Doctors. Each of them is a completely separate person, with his own personality, his own appearance, his own stories. But ultimately, he is the same Doctor whose nature it is to always have mercy… One substance, eleven hypostases. Just like the Trinity, except with eleven. Right?
Wrong: each of these incarnations (see what I did there?) of the Doctor has a beginning and an end. They do not relate with one another. And while they can sometimes meet, they are not defined by their relation with each other. In a way, each incarnation is a mode.

2. In the golden days of 1963-1966, nobody knew Doctor Who would be quite that successful. The Doctor was this grumpy old man, and the heroes of the show were very much the first companions, Ian, Susan and Barbara. The fact that, to prolong the show, they had to write in the regeneration process – and that we only find out about it later does not mean that the First Doctor gained the ability to regenerate in The Tenth Planet. So the first seasons of Doctor Who are standing up on their own, without need of the clutter brought by the other Doctors; and the same goes for the Old Testament. Right?
Not so: even in the Old Testament, there are plenty of indications of the coming of Christ. More so: reading the Old Testament in the light of the New Testament brings it out in its fullness.

3. With a show as big as Doctor Who, there’s a lot of spin-off media. Charity events sketches, such as in Jim’ll fix it, Dimensions in Time, The Curse of Fatal Death, … even have the BBC stamp of approval. Then there’s the books, the audios, the comics, the games. All of these are supposed to somehow fit together… but the canonical status of these is subject to debate. At the end of the day, you can choose whether the Looms of Lungbarrow are actually what happens; but all must fit with the core TV series. The same goes with the Bible and Apocrypha, right?
Not quite: while, yes, everything should be tested against the Gospels; not just anything which fits with the Gospel is necessarily truth. What is canonical is not a matter of personal choice and convenience – it is a matter of truth, and required the help of the Holy Spirit when the canon was compiled, and still requires it now.

4. The fans will tell you what the Doctor can and cannot do, and be sure that their understanding of Doctor Who is correct, regardless of anything that comes their way (of course he can’t regenerate more than 12 times. WHAT? He snogged Grace? NEVER! THAT’S NOT THE DOCTOR! THE TV MOVIE NEVER EXISTED!). Most people are just there to enjoy the show and those details don’t look like they’re worth fussing about.
Actually, that sounds about right. Not that it should.

5. The Doctor is half human. On his mother’s side. Seriously, that’s a line from the 1996 TV Movie. And it’s led to a lot of debate amongst fans. Just like that, Jesus was begotten of God the Father and the Virgin Mary. It’s the same, right?
But Jesus was, and remains, fully human.
Alright, then, the Doctor made himself fully human. Twice, if you count the Virgin adventures (I kid you not), in both occurrences of Human Nature (book and TV).
But Jesus’s humanity is ontological: he has always been human, and, far more importantly, remains incarnate now to intercede for us at the right hand of the Father.

6. The Doctor is outside of time. When he’s in the TARDIS. Just like God, right? The Alpha and the Omega, and all that?
Wrong: in the TARDIS, the Doctor is still part of the universe (just in a different dimension), and constrained by physicality, and by his own timeline. And, unless you consider Terminus, the Doctor had nothing to do with the creation and the end of the Universe. (Let’s not consider Terminus).

7. Meeting the Doctor changes your life forever. And it’s exhilarating. Okay, that one’s a bit transparent :-p
But while meeting the Doctor changes your perspective, and leaves you stranded with little to do but pick up remnants of a broken life when he leaves, once you have found God, He never leaves.

Add your own comparisons!