Questioning
by Greg Funk (Senior Pastor of Manheim BIC)
I have a question (well maybe more than one)
I am on a journey that is raising more questions than producing answers. You would think that after 29 years of ministry, I would be able to sort most of this out. I admit, I can’t. In fact I have more questions than ever. I have an overriding concern about our American version of Christianity and what we call the Church. It appears to me that we have this self guiding, self deluding philosophy that keeps us from the truth about ourselves. This philosophy is stated more in economic terms and perceptions than reality. Over the past 30 years, all the polls coming back from Barna and others keep telling us that we approximately have lost 50% of our influence (48%-24%). Influence, being solely defined by how many people attend worship in a regular basis.
At the same time, we have built some of our largest Churches that we have ever seen in America. We have “super-sized” our product. We have created a “Christian” economy from music to books to conferences that is unparalleled. But I agonize over the reality that our influence keeps moving towards the cellar. Add to this that we now have become a culture of imitation in our Churches. Those who have built very large ministries, other Churches simply take their “stuff” and reproduce it and attract large crowds doing so. So what is my point? All this noise we are creating seems to have little impact. Yes there are some minor changes going on. We think if we just do things differently in our barns, then they will come. In terms of transformation, it has almost become a lost mythical experience. We are getting better at doing things for ourselves but have still not captured the art of influence in terms of those living outside of the Kingdom. Part of the problem is how we define and measure influence. We want programs and pre-packaged stuff, modern and post-modern, that will increase our influence. We fail to realize it is a long joyfully difficult journey. It is a journey filled with gratitude and outrageous generosity. It is a journey where life is the classroom.
We live in the most free, privilege, educated, wealthy country in the world. This world needs us at our best! When we are at our best, Jesus says that not even the gates of hell will be able to withstand our mission. I find it interesting that in Scripture, hell is on the defensive. Hell built the fortress. Hell has the gates. The Father of lies has convinced us to build fortresses. Christian subcultures measure everything that goes on inside the fortress. Every once in a while we send some brave soul outside the walls and call them missionaries. They come back with stories of transformation and we quietly long for the same. What an incredible opportunity we possess. We have the authority and the power of God who guarantees our success. We need people who are willing to say – time to crash a few of hell's parties.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
Self Talk in a Parking Lot
by John Pletcher (Pastor of Daybreak Community Church & Conference Director of Church Multiplication)
I was walking across our church parking lot a couple Sundays ago, en route to clean up some trash and otherwise help our 7 a.m. volunteer team finish set-up in several areas. (Daybreak meets in a high school and it’s our 8th year of set-up.) I find that most Sunday mornings I do a lot of talking to myself all across those hours before service. There is a lot of prayer but also a lot of “mental framing” on a collection of issues. “Yes, it’s going to be a great morning!” “It really is all going to come together.” “You can trust God for a good offering.” “Everyone will get along and bring their A game, surely they will.” Typically, this is helpful. But on this morning, I was tired and not really framing or praying all that well.
‘Confession time in this busy season. I love thinking of myself as a super-selfless person. Isn’t that an ironic twist of character and some ugly self-awareness? Are you impressed with such analysis? (Deep down, I hope you’re in awe at such perception skills. I know, this only reveals that I’m even more twisted and self-absorbed than you initially thought.) I’ve realized lately how crazy this thing of SELF becomes. With broom in hand that particular Sunday morning, I found myself stewing and brewing inside. “Where have all the selfless people gone?” “Does anyone else know and live out Philippians 2?” “I’m sick of sweeping up this high school trash.” “Why don’t more people around here make the big-league choice to be as incarnational as Jesus and I are?” I was thinking such lofty thoughts as I was sweeping up smashed soda cups, ballgame wristbands and leftover athletic socks. In both heart and action, it was such a pastoral high point.
Please keep in mind that as I’m bubbling on the back burner of my being, there’s a school FULL of people back inside who are busy beyond belief—an army of great people—working like crazy to ready the place for a crowd to come worship. Now before you think of me as either a very humble saint, or a non-delegating lunatic, please know that I know better on all accounts. Most of us in ministry will always have our “trash to clean up” in some form or another. On this particular morning, my internal struggle went way beyond simply the couple swishes of a broom that needed completed. I was tired, and I was stressed, and I was a busy, busy man. I was rushed with tasks and rushed in my spirit.
Now in the couple weeks since that frustrating morning and my wondering “Are there any other real Christians left on the planet?” Christ has given me some different scenes and maybe some better frames. Last week, in the midst of planning for a big weekend community outreach event, one guy on the Daybreak team, already very busy himself, volunteered to pick up some equipment. “You don’t need to worry about that on Saturday, Pletch. I got it. Please let me.” “Wow, thank you,” I responded. And I breathed the same in prayer as a cool calm swept across my soul. The next Sunday, as I walked across the parking lot, I noticed one of our leaders had parked all the way at the back edge of the parking lot. She had arrived early to help with 1st Impressions details for the morning, and there were still ample parking places, dozens of them, right up front. I knew immediately what she had done. She had made a selfless choice to leave room for others, closer up in the parking lot. I paused for a moment and said, “Thanks for some different frames this morning, Lord! That’s such a refreshing image.”
So now I’m wondering this busy season. Maybe a much better approach, instead of appointing myself the supreme “judge and jury for approving selflessness” in others’ lives, would be to do everything imaginable to catch people in acts of selflessness. What if, instead of running around thinking I’m so selfless and hoping that others will come up to my lofty level of humility, what if I make the choice to just truly watch for other people demonstrating the character of Jesus? What if I control the analysis and self-talk, to only highlight and celebrate those bright and shining moments that jump at me? I might just learn some things from others, as I watch them live out the incarnation. And I might just say some better things to myself this coming Sunday.
by John Pletcher (Pastor of Daybreak Community Church & Conference Director of Church Multiplication)
I was walking across our church parking lot a couple Sundays ago, en route to clean up some trash and otherwise help our 7 a.m. volunteer team finish set-up in several areas. (Daybreak meets in a high school and it’s our 8th year of set-up.) I find that most Sunday mornings I do a lot of talking to myself all across those hours before service. There is a lot of prayer but also a lot of “mental framing” on a collection of issues. “Yes, it’s going to be a great morning!” “It really is all going to come together.” “You can trust God for a good offering.” “Everyone will get along and bring their A game, surely they will.” Typically, this is helpful. But on this morning, I was tired and not really framing or praying all that well.
‘Confession time in this busy season. I love thinking of myself as a super-selfless person. Isn’t that an ironic twist of character and some ugly self-awareness? Are you impressed with such analysis? (Deep down, I hope you’re in awe at such perception skills. I know, this only reveals that I’m even more twisted and self-absorbed than you initially thought.) I’ve realized lately how crazy this thing of SELF becomes. With broom in hand that particular Sunday morning, I found myself stewing and brewing inside. “Where have all the selfless people gone?” “Does anyone else know and live out Philippians 2?” “I’m sick of sweeping up this high school trash.” “Why don’t more people around here make the big-league choice to be as incarnational as Jesus and I are?” I was thinking such lofty thoughts as I was sweeping up smashed soda cups, ballgame wristbands and leftover athletic socks. In both heart and action, it was such a pastoral high point.
Please keep in mind that as I’m bubbling on the back burner of my being, there’s a school FULL of people back inside who are busy beyond belief—an army of great people—working like crazy to ready the place for a crowd to come worship. Now before you think of me as either a very humble saint, or a non-delegating lunatic, please know that I know better on all accounts. Most of us in ministry will always have our “trash to clean up” in some form or another. On this particular morning, my internal struggle went way beyond simply the couple swishes of a broom that needed completed. I was tired, and I was stressed, and I was a busy, busy man. I was rushed with tasks and rushed in my spirit.
Now in the couple weeks since that frustrating morning and my wondering “Are there any other real Christians left on the planet?” Christ has given me some different scenes and maybe some better frames. Last week, in the midst of planning for a big weekend community outreach event, one guy on the Daybreak team, already very busy himself, volunteered to pick up some equipment. “You don’t need to worry about that on Saturday, Pletch. I got it. Please let me.” “Wow, thank you,” I responded. And I breathed the same in prayer as a cool calm swept across my soul. The next Sunday, as I walked across the parking lot, I noticed one of our leaders had parked all the way at the back edge of the parking lot. She had arrived early to help with 1st Impressions details for the morning, and there were still ample parking places, dozens of them, right up front. I knew immediately what she had done. She had made a selfless choice to leave room for others, closer up in the parking lot. I paused for a moment and said, “Thanks for some different frames this morning, Lord! That’s such a refreshing image.”
So now I’m wondering this busy season. Maybe a much better approach, instead of appointing myself the supreme “judge and jury for approving selflessness” in others’ lives, would be to do everything imaginable to catch people in acts of selflessness. What if, instead of running around thinking I’m so selfless and hoping that others will come up to my lofty level of humility, what if I make the choice to just truly watch for other people demonstrating the character of Jesus? What if I control the analysis and self-talk, to only highlight and celebrate those bright and shining moments that jump at me? I might just learn some things from others, as I watch them live out the incarnation. And I might just say some better things to myself this coming Sunday.
