What if we...: Participation in Worship

Welcome to the interwebz version of the OB/GYN, where you get to see my thoughts on participative worship in utero.

(The thoughts are in utero, not the worship.)




Worship Leader surprised me this month! Their July/August issue, Return of the Folk, is actually really helpful, and talks about things I care about, namely participation in worship. The very first article mentioned the exact same things I was in conversation with about this past weekend, which could have significant implications in my ministry and the church as a whole. More about that later.

As I had mentioned a few months back, I lost my voice. That compounded an already-existing thought, that participation in worship needs to be wholistic, not just for singers, but for everyone. The congregation participates in Sunday worship by singing, and sometimes by taking communion. Then there are those litanies we do, and those are okay. I like them, most of the time.

But the truth is, worship is a spectator sport in most Sunday services. Why? Probably because leadership generally doesn't know how to do it another way. Certainly this isn't the way it has to be, it just takes energy and creativity to do things differently. It also takes courage and vulnerability. I'm better at the former than the latter. But even making time for the former is hard.

A man comes to a point, though, where discontent isn't an option. There needs to be a change. I've crossed that threshold. Now I'm wondering, what can be changed? How can we make our worship our worship, instead of the leaders imposing it on the congregation? (I could easily dive into a theoretical diatribe about whether we are actually imposing anything, the roles of pastors and leaders, expectations of the congregations, etc., but I'd rather not.)

Let me actually say something in this post. A lot of these were suggested by the magazine:

Texting during worship
What if people could text questions during the sermon, and either have them answered at the end of the service, or later on in the week on the blog? (This was the conversation from this past weekend.)

Also, texting prayer requests would totally work, and people could text them in all week, not just on Sunday. Save the number in your phone.

Responsive Dialogue
I'm a fan of dialogue as opposed to lecture, which makes me always reconsider whether or not the sermon is the best means of communication. At best, I find it incomplete. So, can people raise hands and ask questions?

Or, after the sermon, can there be a response time after the sermon somehow? Either with the whole congregation, or maybe circled up in groups?

As my professor said this past week, "The church is going through a wormhole, and we have absolutely no idea where it'll be in ten years. We used to have a guess, but now we've got nothing." If I've grown up in the church, and I'm tired of the music/sermon status quo, it makes me think there are tons of others. So, I'm praying, dreaming, scheming, imagining.

Thoughts?

Back In A Jiffy... Again

Who says an oil change isn't eventful?

In an effort to save time I went to Jiffy Lube instead of TJ Discount Auto to get my oil changed. I feel like I cheated on TJ, but I won't have to deal with that until he sees the new oil change sticker inside my windshield next time I go. 3,000 miles of smooth sailing.

I was surprised at the hospitality I got today. They treated me kindly, called me by name or "young man," which was funny, but kinda cool. They even opened doors for me. Joe, my attendant, explained everything in an informative manner without being condescending, which is tough to do. I appreciated it.

After all was done, I asked Joe if they got tips. He said sometimes people did, and added his biggest tip was $50 once! I asked if he could charge a tip because I didn't have cash, but he couldn't. So, I shook his hand and left.

Immediately after, I had to stop at Jewel to get some fancy cheese for Ravinia tonight. I got the cheese and some cash back, then stopped back at the Jiffy Lube to give Joe a tip. His response? "Aw man, you didn't have to do that." But I just snapped and pointed at him, like David Hasselhoff might in Knight Rider, and said, "Thanks again, man. I appreciate it." And I rode Kit to the interstate, where I disappeared into the hull of a moving semi.

As if that wasn't enough...

As I was driving down the road, listening to country music for my class, I heard a phone ringing. I figured it was on the radio, so I ignored it. But as I continued, it started ringing again. I turned off the radio, then checked my phone, then reached under the seat where I found a phone that said "2 missed calls: work". At that point, I laughed, and returned to Jiffy Lube for the third time that day, returning a misplaced phone to a relieved attendant.

I felt pretty good about that whole experience. I inconvenienced myself to give someone a tip who deserved it. I'm guessing it made his day, at least it would have made mine. Then I was inconvenienced to return someone's phone who had dropped it in my vehicle. I think that pacing of life was helpful. My agenda was put off, and I still got everything done, while allowing life to happen around and within me.

May we long to be interrupted by life, and to smile through our inconveniences, realizing we are being made to live more fully.

Prophets and Losses

Who are the prophets among us?

My entire life I have been intrigued by the prophetic role. As a high schooler I remember listening to a homily during mass, reflecting on these words of Jeremiah:

But if I say, "I will not mention him
or speak any more in his name,"
his word is in my heart like a fire,
a fire shut up in my bones.
I am weary of holding it in;
indeed, I cannot. [Jer 20:9]

It was like my ticket was drawn from a raffle - these words called me out of a crowd. The words knew this truth that I had yet to understand: God's word was in my heart like a fire, and I was growing weary, tired of holding it in. What was I supposed to do with that?

We'll return to that thought.

There are several different offices, or roles, in the Kingdom of God, including the following:

A pastor takes care of God's people.
Poets artistically translate revelation.
Philosophers think through the challenging truths of God.
Priests go on behalf of the people to God.
And prophets go on behalf of God to the people.*
These roles often intertwine. (See Moses, David, Bonhoeffer.)

I've found myself identifying mostly with the pastor, poet and prophet. But if I had a heart-paradigm, or a way I find myself to be wired more than the others, it's that of prophet.

Here's the catch: As far as I know, there isn't a school for prophets. No "prophetic seminary." Seminaries are geared toward bringing up pastors. So, what do the prophets do?

Oh, you're wondering what a prophet does? There are two main roles:

1) They call people and situations out on behalf of God.
2) They re-imagine the future, from what it is to the what could be.**

On the surface, that sounds pretty sweet. But the life of the prophets is always ridiculously hard, and sometimes just weird. Moses had it pretty bad, considering everyone pretty much hated him and he didn't get to enter the promised land. Hosea had to marry a prostitute, and Jeremiah wasn't allowed to marry at all. Ezekiel had to lay on his side in the town square every day for over a year. Jonah went in the exact opposite direction God called him to go, and ended up there anyway. Nathan had to call out King David, and that's scary stuff. We can go on and on, the point is that the prophetic life is a special calling, and a difficult one at that.

On my two-mile run today (still going strong!), I thought about Jesus' words, that whoever follows him will have to hate his mother, father, sister, brothers, and everyone else. I never understood that. But when I put the life of the prophet together with Jesus's words, it makes sense. No one supports prophets. They're extremists, they "hear from God," they're overly-spiritual, dreamers, out-of-the-box, and in the moment, their claims can't be verified. A mother says proudly, "My son's studying to be a pastor!" How would she feel saying, "My son's calling is to be a prophet"?

Those who challenge the current power arrangements, positions of status and privilege, and the status quo of the community will go without honor in their hometown. (Mt. 13:57) And it may be so extreme that they have to make a choice: Do I follow my parents' wishes for my life and keep the relationship, or do I do what I am called to do, even if it means walking away? These certainly aren't easy questions. But they need to be considered.

As if it weren't obvious, I am navigating what it means to be a prophet. (Though I will mention that I have a wonderful relationship with my parents!) I haven't yet found a prophetic mentor, but I will be praying for one. As much as school is raising me up to be a "pastor," the definition most people have in mind is far too narrow. In some ways, I will be a pastor.

But I must be a prophet.

What resonates with you? Any and all thoughts are both welcomed and sought after.

*Priests, prophets, poets and philosophers was an amazing series done by Status in 2007. I tried to find it, but it appears to be off the site. Sad day. :\
** One of the new classics in this are a is The Prophetic Imagination by Walter Brueggeman.

A Smatter of Life and Death

Words.

We use them constantly, every day. If we're not speaking them or reading them, we most often think by way of them. Our language has formed our thoughts, and we have trouble thinking about what we can't put into words. Those thoughts are echoes of an idea, bouncing off distant walls, reaching us in faint waves, barely perceived. But the thoughts we do understand, perceive and communicate well, usually words.*

Two friends recently made me aware of the power of my words. And more specifically, my words on this blog. For better or worse, these words carry consequences.

Once aware, I noted that my words in every day life also carry this weight, in a profound way.

At work, if I say something positive, it seems to bring forth life. But on those off-days (and I have had plenty of those lately), when I'm in a foul mood for whatever reason, my still-born words bring death. Life brings forth life. Death brings forth death.

Theologians like to reflect on the power of words, especially of God's words, such as "Let there be light." And there was light. I've always been a little wary of this idea because it falls into "speaking things into existence," which I think in many cases is more superstition than spiritual reality. Even still, my experience tells me that my words have their own gravity. Words spoken highly will draw others up. Words planted in tombs will drag down low.

My new goal is to speak words of life rather than death. It's hard, because, well, it just is. But I guess my death-word part will just have to die. As the old proverb goes, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Or, better yet:

Don't say anything unless it builds up whoever hears it with exactly what they need. (Eph 4:29, my paraphrase)

*Okay, I can't go without saying that artists break this rule through many media, and even a mother can express love with a hug. This whole preceding paragraph has been a digression anyway. I'll get to today's point.

The Machine

We were both drained.

And as we sat talking, I noted that The Machine was stealing our joy.

The Machine does not live.
The Machine has no brain.
The Machine commands its tasks, all it has done, all it knows.

The Machine needs no input.
The Machine is efficient, with replaceable parts. (Thank you, Henry Ford.)
The Machine requires maintenance. Not love, creativity, warmth.

The Machine was stealing our joy.

We built The Machine.
I swore I never would. "I will never be part of The Machine.
I don't believe in it."

But as surely as entropy increases,
The Machine builds itself.
And I believe.

We became The Machine.
The gears, belts, cogs, wheels.

We churned out the product, uncertain of demand.

And The Machine steals our joy.

What if we...: The Story of God

What if we...

spent an entire church year telling the story of God, hitting the highlights each week?

supplemented that with short sermonettes, in case someone misses a week?

translated those into Spanish for those who need a resource?

added a list of resources on each theme? (audio, video, technological, experiential, print, etc.)

used different media/art to illustrate the plot development?

planned ahead?

challenged congregants to look ahead, and see how their daily work reflects the development?

created, alongside the foundational storyline, a Fundamental Christianity offering?

had a gallery for each person who wanted to display truth and beauty for others to appreciate?

didn't read the Bible as much as we let the Bible read us?

listened half as much as we spoke?

In the Long Run

I ran two miles today, I think for the first time ever.

After about a mile of running/talking to God, I thought:

"I'm almost half-way done, and I still have a lot more to say. I'm gonna need to run a lot farther if I want to say everything I want to say, because at the end, I still want time to listen."

That's motivation.

My Job and My Work

I went to my job today.

After almost 8 hours of sleep I snoozed my alarm twice before climbing out and heading to the bathroom only to realize I didn't have time for a shower. No problem. I have thick clothes.

I headed off to my job to serve tables, run food, clean trays and make money. It was a good day, overall. Pastor John came and ate and we talked about sermons and life, and that was awesome.

When I left my job, I thought, "Now it's time to get to my work."

I had a few things in mind. I've got my rural ministry class coming up. I have a list of mentoring/discipleship resources I want to explore. I'm responsible for leading a community of people before a holy God tomorrow morning, and am not entirely ready. I wanted to write a blog. (Check.)

It turns out, my job is different than my work. See, my job is what I do to make a living; my work is what I do to make a life. The cool thing is, at my job, I can still do my work. I can be creative, I can build relationships, and instead of just serving tables, I can serve people.

What's your job, and what's your work?

Running Into Something

Tonight, I ran.

Five laps around the pond of my backyard. I figure that's about 1 mile. A good impulse run to work out some of the caffeine of my quadruple espresso. Hours later my fingers still jitter above the keys.

Tonight, I ran.

Lap 1. Let's keep a slow pace. I guess I'll run one, walk one, run two, walk one. That'll be good. I wonder if those guys fishing are going to catch anything.

Tonight, I ran.

Lap 2. God, I want to finish something. I want to go 13.1 miles because I need to. I need a challenge. I need to stop being complacent and actually do something. I guess they didn't catch anything.

Tonight, I ran.

Lap 3. This is a good thing. I can feel it. I need to have some sort of story. Maybe this is my inciting incident. I really can't go back now. My life doesn't have enough stories. And I already paid my $45 entry.

Tonight, I ran.

Lap 4. You know, I've never had to work really hard for anything. My life has been easy. Minimal studying still warranted good grades, my jobs have been relatively simple sales, retail and food-service positions, my church work is only as intense as I make it. And, come to think of it, the hardest conflict of my life was momentary. I didn't have to work hard at it. I essentially faced it a moment, turned and ran. And in certain ways, I'm still running. Really, most of the running I've done hasn't been running into anything; I've always been running away. I swallowed a bug.

Tonight, I ran.

Lap 5. I don't care how much farther I have to go. I just have to finish. This time it's not about distance, impressing other people or looking good. It's not for my ego or to be in shape. It's not to prove anything. I just need to finish. I need to finish because I've never had to work at anything, and I need to work hard. I need to work at my job. I need to work at my church, my education, my relationships. It's not about anything but finishing, and becoming a better character by the end.

Tonight, I run.

A Million Miles for him, 13.1 for me

I finally read the book.

My friends said, "Well, if you gave her a copy you'd better read it so you can talk about it. So, in two sittings I read the whole things. It was really good! I loved the analogy of story and life, and how Miller's conversational writing turned the pages for me.

It really got me thinking, about my life, and the story I'm living. I avoid any conflict, any pain - even good pain. Like exercise. I tried to run a few months ago. I went twice, then got bronchitis. I played basketball a couple weeks ago. That was a lot of fun. I enjoy exercise more than the idea of it. Usually, it's the other way around. I live in my brain a lot.

For a character to develop, he has to struggle, to overcome something, or to be overcome by something. But not trying means no development. And that's a boring story.

I'm going to run a half-marathon. The Prairie State Half-Marathon in Libertyville, IL, October 9, 2010. It costs $45. I think it'd be fun to run with a group of friends, and we all dress like the Super-Friends. I'd be Spider-Dan.

I really need to do this. I need to stretch, to be challenged, to grow. I need conflict. I need to overcome. It's time.

Who's coming with me?