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Going off on a tangent

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It’s happened to me many a time: I pick up on something said in a sermon, and that opens up a whole new track of thought which may well be unrelated to the sermon. Today, someone mentioned to me that they had to force their attention back onto the sermon. It’s natural to feel that tinge of guilt. After all, you came to church for the service, and part of that service is the sermon, so you really should listen to it attentively, shouldn’t you?

tangent

Photo: Wikimedia user Cmglee, reused under CC License

If you’ve ever felt that guilt, here are a few questions you can ask yourself:

Is the sermon the only way, or the best way you can find out about God?

This is a serious theological question. Sermons are useful; this much should be true (or else there’s little point in listening to them altogether). Still, if there are other ways in which God talks to you – if you believe that the Holy Spirit is still inspiring you (and not simply whoever is preaching), then why should you dismiss tangents? After all, it might well be that your attention is drawn to a specific point of the sermon through His inspiration. Struggling to focus back onto the sermon is then denying this power!

Are all the members of the congregation meant to receive the exact same experience?

We are all different in the way we understand, or at least relate to some truths spoken in sermons. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that dismissing parts of the sermon as “not for me” is right, or justified. But when something speaks to you and you start connecting dots, that’s when you’re properly hearing the sermon. Refusing to do so on the basis that you might miss out on the next bit is playing it safe. Because, when you think about it, you’re not giving what you hear space to affect you.

Is the sermon addressing your mind, or is it directed at your heart and soul too?

I don’t know about you, but my mind can follow a sermon more easily than my heart can grasp its implications. This is also true for going off on a tangent, mind you – as my mind will make leaps and bounds that sometimes even defy basic logic. Still, when I go on a tangent, it is usually because something that was said resonated within my heart and soul.

So if you see the sermon as feeding you holistically, I reckon following the tangents isn’t that bad a thing to do. But then, you might see a sermon as something that’s only meant to feed the head – or as an exercise where structure and curricula that span many weeks matter more than how the sermon transforms you.

Is it even possible to hold on to everything?

Sermons are fast. Very fast. The traditional structure is three points; but that’s generally for 15 minute sermons – 45 minute talks are usually replete with sub-points. That means going through three (or more) deep issues in under 5 minutes each. Now that’s a very quick pace, so I shouldn’t worry if I missed some part of it. Better to hold on to one thing well than to fill your pockets with tons of crumbs. (yay for mixed metaphors!)

Now, that being said, there are some practical considerations to take into account, too:

Will you use what is discussed in the sermon for further discussion (for instance, in small groups?) 

If so, then it might be crucial that you can recall what is being said – especially if you’re meant to lead such discussion. But in most cases, there are ways to catch up.

Is there a way for you to listen back to the sermon later?

Most churches now provide either transcripts of sermons or audio recordings on their website. So you can always catch up on what you missed because you went off on a tangent. And even if they don’t, why not simply ask the preacher for their notes?

What are your thoughts drifting towards?

I don’t mean this post to be an all-encompassing excuse to allow my thoughts to drift towards my lesson-planning, or towards my grocery shopping. My thoughts do sometimes jump to these mundane tasks – but it is easy to see that such thoughts are completely unrelated to what was said in the first place. Maybe in such cases, it’s worth focusing back on the sermon!

Second-guessing: the death of conversation

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A blog post has been doing the rounds on the Internet recently. It describes the experience of someone who was the target of healing prayer. It’s a thought-provoking article, especially for  those of us who have been involved in outreach events. The question it raises for us hinges on this consideration:

Are the people we’re talking to/praying for/offering hot chocolate to seen primarily as potential converts, apologetics/prayer practice, or primarily as the individuals they are?

Just as importantly, is that how we are perceived? I remember going out to give ice lollies to people on campus one summer, with people from a local church. One person, wondering about our motives, first asked if they were laced with Rohypnol, and then jumped to the conclusion we were Christians, out to convert them.

agenda

Photo: Pava, reused under CC License

Second-guessing other people’s purposes. We do that all the time. School workers in France were recently asked to reflect on the shape education should take. Some took the view that this consultation was carried out in order for the government to look like it was listening, but that all decisions had already been taken; and that they would take any admission of failure as an excuse to give less funding.

Just so with the author of the blog post. She second-guessed the intentions behind the healing-prayer offer. She might have been right, but it could also be that the gentleman was moved by a genuine desire to see her healed. It could also be that he had a desire to get to know her, and to welcome her into the local church family, which he did by not tiptoeing around an obvious issue. The thing is, we cannot know; and the author of the blog post cannot know. Because in second-guessing the purpose of the conversation, in her head, that conversation could only end in one way: there was no room for genuine listening and for genuine conversation.

The same goes for every single time we second guess other people’s motives. If you see a stall of Christians with hot chocolate and assume they’re just there to shove the Gospel in your face and not interested in you as a person, then you’re not going to be able to listen to them OR to talk to them. If you assume that the government is out to justify cost-cutting measures, you’re going to make sure that you give them nothing – and conversely, they’re going to stop listening. Communication breaks down.

In communication, there are two main responsibilities: talking honestly (i.e., not hiding your motives) and listening genuinely. The latter involves trying, as much as possible, not to second guess what the other is trying to achieve.

Finding a new church

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At Warwick university, term has only just started again. For lots of freshers, this means settling into new communities and, of course, finding a new church. There are many ways to face this challenge.

churches

Photo: Wikimedia user Tarquin Bina, under CC License

1. Non-committed: I’ll never get involved with a church here. My real church is at home, that’s where I’ve got my friends. So, yeah, maybe I’ll go to church here ‘cos, you know, I still need some teaching to get me going. Or maybe I’ll be content with CU meetings. But I won’t get stuck into a church.

2. Church-hopper: Oh this is exciting! There are soooo many churches to choose from! I need to select the one that fits ME the closest. Hang on a minute, that other church might actually be a tiny bit better. I won’t settle into a church until I have found THE one. And because, of course, no church is perfect (well, except for mine) I won’t settle at all.

3. Forceful Visionary: Well, this church shares a name/denomination/vague resemblance with my home church, so I will go there. But, hang on, it isn’t exactly like what I know from back home. Never mind that, I will soon change that: I’ll talk to the incumbent to let him or her know that the way we do things back home is sooo much more efficient and Christ-like

4. Fanboy or fangirl: I have chosen this church. Because of this, it is bound to be the best church around (because obviously, I cannot make mistakes). This means that anyone I meet should be convinced to come to my church.

5. Disappointed fanboy or fangirl: I had chosen this church, but got sorely disappointed, either because I couldn’t change it to what I wanted it to be or because of something else. Therefore, that church is bad and I’ll let everyone know about it being bad.

There may be more reactions – and I’m looking forward to reading about them in the comments. But these five have two things in common: firstly, that I have been (and to some extent still am) guilty of them at some point or other; and secondly, that they betray a vision of church as an object that serves us, rather than as the bride of Christ that is to be served.

An approach to the local church as only a place of service to me as a worshipper is one which is intricately individualistic and bound to disappoint. And there are two ways  to look at a church in such a way: one is to see local churches as unchanging and the object of a choice. This means the church will see no growth other than in numbers, and I don’t think that can bring about the Kingdom. The other way is to see yourself as unchanging and the church as molding itself around you; and that means the only growth you can expect personally is the type of growth that fits your pattern. I have come to learn that growth does not tend to come in expected ways.

So here’s what I suggest: when going to a new church, stop and listen. Listen to the community it embodies, listen to its needs as well as to its leadership. Try to empathise with the leadership and to understand why they might be doing what they are doing. This takes time; and it takes commitment: the first two options aren’t open to us. It takes open-mindedness to realise that the local church is here to serve more than just our individual selves, and it takes humility to realise that it is here to serve and challenge us too.

It’s hard not to judge the local church – and there’s a time and a place for challenging leadership. But that time can only come after the acceptance of their greater wisdom – or we’re not speaking in  the church at all, we’re speaking to it as outsiders.