theo|digital

So here’s the problem:  I’ve moved to Orlando, Florida.  I was a campus minister for eight years, I have a seminary degree, and now am a manager in a Christian missions agency that serves missional leaders throughout the US.  But I don’t have a local body of believers to call my own—to serve or lead or embody redemption with.  And the biggest barrier to me finding one?  Probably myself.  (Part 1, Part 2)

Part 3—Chris’ Ideal Church

I still hate the idea of trying to define this: there’s a looming consumerism in the tone. But given my situation, I’ve finally decided to write down… What is My Ideal Church?  This is not a carefully constructed theological list: just the thoughts as they hit me.

Missional. By this I mean the sense the church is the hope for the world… not by simply spreading a message, but by being it.  I mean a church that thinks of itself as the Body of Christ of whom everyone has a part, and who live as active emissaries of the peace of Christ in their own context.

Not attractional. Doesn’t think that the way to reach its context is first by bringing people within its walls. In fact, a building really doesn’t matter too much to me at all. I’d love a church that is meeting in a theater or a community space, and doesn’t constantly hope to soon upgrade to its own mortgage. Services should and could reflect the expressions of the community (i.e. good art is cool), but to the extent that the show is oriented toward “new customer retention”… sigh.  Not interested.

Doesn’t have multiple services. This is a more specific way of saying “not too large,” and while a church with momentum feels good, a church that can’t fit all into one room at once feels too big.  How in the heck are we supposed to show hospitality to the stranger if we have no idea who the stranger is??  I sometimes think a church of 100-300 people is probably about right.  Bigger, and it’s time to make a new church.  All that, and this:  there’s nothing like adding your first additional service that suddenly changes the gathered, participatory church to movie attenders.  (ps – strong statements should be taken with a grain of salt and probably more humility:  see Part 1)

Defines the gospel holistically. Thinks of the gospel as Matthew 4.17: “repent, for the kingdom of God is near.”  Sees discipleship as dropping your nets to follow Jesus.  Is okay with not framing everything in terms of the Protestant Reformation works vs. free gift (e.g. does not constantly say “theres nothing you can do to earn God’s favor.” I agree with this.  I just don’t think it always applies). Sees types of sin that’ are bigger than just personal sin. Thinks the gospel is initiated by and modeled after Jesus’ life, death, AND resurrection.

Embraces plural leadership. Completely weird to most of the American church is the idea that a senior, charismatic leader can be a bad thing. I believe strongly in the “plurality of leadership” which requires multiple equals to agree together to lead. It not only saves the church from potential one-headed blindness, but blesses the church with multiple leadership gifts and the MODEL of multiple leadership gifts:  DNA that can be reproduced at every level.

Meals together in homes. The theology of the table has gotta be one of the most neglected but potent possibilities for the church today.  For years, our home fellowship group of 25 got together on a Tuesday night and cooked dinner together:  chopping in the kitchen, setting the table, praying and eating, and especially cleaning together.  The team character dynamics were hard to overestimate: laughter and service and sacrifice and goal accomplishment.  The biblical symbolism leads straight to Eucharst/communion.  Not the mention the amazing stand-out hospitality guests felt when they were invited to share the love.  For me, this is the image of discipleship and evangelism in a postmodern world.

Encourages art for arts sake. Embraces creative expression of its members, but not simply “in order to reach unbelievers” but because the biblical community models always seem to do this.  Regular use of artistic talents reflections both creation and mission.

Serves the poor. Because of the central role of the this metric whenever God speaks of whether his people are faithful or not.  I hope for an American church that recognizes its significant wealth relative to the world’s Christians, and tries to like one “who is given much.”

Liturgical-Historical Sense. Realizes that the “band and the talk,” can be a relatively anemic approach to gathered worship.  Is willing to think about the historic patterns of the churche’s worship and include silence, creeds, loud and clear reading of scripture (where we listen, not read along in our NIV study bibles), and see communion/Eucharist as a crucial “we-ness” that be part of our regular rhythm.

Yep.  So there’s at least part of an ideal sketch. Next thought? How even writing this out partially undoes it.

Ridley Scott’s fascinating new digital-native project is today, Saturday June 24th. It’s another great example of what Marshall McLuhan called “the collapse of the author and reader.” Funny thing is, McLuhan was thinking of the photo-copy machine, which he thought of as a “self-publishing” platform, making everyone a content creator, not just consumer. Not sure if he could have imagined YouTube, or this:

So, recently I bought at TV.  It’s the first TV I’ve ever owned in my life.  (People stare at me when I say that… it’s a whole ‘nother story).  And I don’t have cable or anything—just doing Netflix, Hulu, and over-the-air digital.  But that last one means I see commercials now… something that’s been absent for many years in my life.  And not that I’m excited about that. But I did see a fascinating commercial last week that continues to be a comment on digital cultural integration.

The commercial is a whole new campaign from Esurance (I looked it up)—formerly the province of that cheesy pink-haired super-hero computer insurance lady.  The new campaign has a tag-line that I think strikes a surprisingly perfect chord for the digital-native generation:  ”People when you want them, technology when you don’t.”

The commercials are designed to be funny (and do a decent job), but what catches my eye is the continually evolving cultural snapshot on the relationship between “people” and “computers” (i.e. information/digital space).  Digital immigrants still grumble that e-mail or Facebook are replacing people and creating “false community,” while digital natives are starting to turn the bend to express what they really live:  task-digital or social-digital activity does not replace people interaction—it extends or augments it.  Digital culture is a meta-layer on human interaction.

Incredibly practically, Esurance realizes that sometimes the website is more efficient and sometimes a person on the phone is, and we generally want the choice.  And they’re not even an either/or proposition.  For instance, we’ll finish our 1-800 call and expect an e-mail sitting in our inbox with a summary, receipt, or appropriate links. Or we’ll use the website to drop a note to an agent at 1am in the morning, but will expect a personal response the next day. Observationally it’s better to say that we naturally choose one mode as primary, but never exclusively.

In fact, for a digital native, this switching of “mode preference” has little decision-work behind it. It’s about as seamless as the previous generation deciding between picking up the office intercom or walking down the hall. We use the media form which seems right for the situation.

It’s just that digital natives are very, very good at media switching without blinking. Esurance (or their ad agency DuncanShannon) is getting it.

So here’s the problem:  I’ve moved to Orlando, Florida.  I was a campus minister for eight years, I have a seminary degree, and now am a manager in a Christian missions agency that serves missional leaders throughout the US.  But I don’t have a local body of believers to call my own—to serve or lead or embody redemption with.  And the biggest barrier to me finding one?  Probably myself. (Part 1)

Part 2—My Past Churches

I suppose part of the church search should be knowing what you’re looking for.  This part already bothers me a little bit.  Do I have strong, over-educated opinions about what the church should be?  You bet.  But do I know that no church is anywhere close to perfect?  Yes.  In theory.

So the picture of what I’m looking for may not match to Reality.  But what would it be, if I did?  (Let’s set aside my nervousness about me being the sole-definer of what I’m looking for… I’ll deal with that in a separate thought somewhere).  What is Chris’s ideal church?

There’s probably a pre-question:  knowing where you’ve come from is important.  I’ve had a strong variety of church experiences.  Growing up conservative reformed gave me the Westminster Confession lens on life, where theology reigned king. I’ve got baggage here from what I now think was an over-narrow definition of orthodoxy, but I still respect deep study and careful thought.

The church that most affected me was my student church that grew me up and I eventually helped lead. Part of a small network of

chuches started in the 70s and 80s, my church was characterized by, among other things: house churches of ten to thirty people, emphasis on the Great Commission, an informal and participatory worship style, high relational intimacy, plurality of eldership, the priesthood of all believers, scripture memorization, and discipleship marked by principles of mentorship, multiplication, and leadership development. Our network was partly the unlikely mating of Plymouth Brethren and Campus Crusade for Christ. So there’s that.

My most recent church was Life on the Vine, in which I was only just barely beginning to be able to serve, yet felt like home very quickly.  This missional/liturgical/community oriented fellowship extended much of what I believed and lead in I-Life, but added a significant historical-liturgical dimension in practice and kingdom-gospel theology that embodied much of what I had spent the previous five years coming to advocate for.  Think loud reading of scripture, icons, and Eucharist as the climax of every gathering together.

Believe it or not, those are my total church home experiences.  Since I’ve raised financial support as a missionary for many years, I’ve met tons of other churches:  from Assemblies of God to Bible Baptists to Anglicans to large seeker-oriented boxes.  But I’ve had relatively few I’ve ever belonged to.

So now, what do I want to belong to?

I think, however much it bothers me, I’ve gotta make a list. As soon as I can write some more.

Ugh. There’s can’t be many more phrases that make me sicker than “we’re church shopping right now.” It’s like all the things that cause me sorrow about the broken American evangelical church (just “Jesus and me” except when we’re an “audience,” ”attendance” to hear “great teaching” followed by “great worship”) are neatly stacked into one phrase that layers the Body of Christ and the Mall into a food court spinach wrap that’s “right for our family.”

Before I become boringly and repetitive on the Church Cynic scale, let’s be clear that I’m certain there is a growing mass that laments the same things I do, yet struggles in reality to effect change. This is not simply lack of organization or the right logo, but partially that incarnational, missional sketch of church is uneasy with the kind of crowd-gathering media approach that champions the large video screens (now in HD) you’d need to share the vision with more than a few at once. Jumbotrons mean consumerism, technopoly and a power dynamic that we natural post-moderns cringe under.

But the larger reason for being humble on the consumerism/individualism rant is that this is simply the story of the church in every age: she a guaranteed reflection of her surrounding culture with both its sins and graces.  Yeah, the role of redemption in the life of the church is undoing both cultural and personal sin, but while a lot changes, a whole lot stays the same. To employ the classic metaphor: the church in culture is like a fish in water. Once you’ve finally noticed its there, it’s still hard to see and even tougher to clean your own tank. At their best, missional critics identify how difficult large-scale cultural change really is, for the church or the culture she lives in.  Simply put:  it’s easier to complain than to change things.

Which brings me back to church shopping.

Humility in theory sounds great, but there’s nothing like a bit of practicality to nail it home. Since my recent move to Orlando, FL, I’ve become the very thing I want to strike out with a big Sharpie:  a church shopper.

Granted, it’s taken me months to admit it. There have been phases of denial—probably more of those than anything else, actually. But I find myself in that unenviable position of absolutely loving the mission of the local Body of Christ, yet not even being part of it. My spare hours have been absorbed by Netflix and couch shopping (better than sitting?), and when I do make the effort to investigate a church, it’s typically been what everybody else does: a chip-on-my-shoulder visit to a 10:45am service where I absorb custom video, a worship drum solo, a charismatic story told from a stool, and a clapping send-off where I sulk out with my church full-color church brochure.

Ugh.

I’ve got more desperate thoughts on this. More to come.