If two or three (or more) gather in Jesus' name by going to the same Internet site at the same time and watching the same livestream program, is Jesus in their midst? This, inevitably, is the challenging question about whether watching a worship service on TV or joining a worship service online is an act of worship. To be sure, there is something qualitatively different about wearing a bathrobe and slippers and logging on to the computer than putting on presentable clothes and driving to a common place. But if people seem to be able to "telecommute" to work without it affecting their workload, why can't people "telechurch" to worship? After all, if God is everywhere present, that must include a divine presence in cyberspace too.
Personally, I prefer to worship in a common space with other people, but I also know that the experience greatly depends on what you bring to it. This means that for certain people, at certain times, online worship might work better. At the very least, there usually is greater flexibility of when to worship online (yes, like Cable TV offers, it's 'worship on-demand'). More to the point, though, if you feel safer and more accepted online (because of the anonymity that the Internet can offer), you are more likely to have a deep faith experience than if you come to a church anxious and defensive, afraid to talk to anybody and doubting that anyone there (including the pastor) has anything of value to share with you. (On the other hand, over time you hopefully would be able to develop relationships with others who gather in the same place with you, which is much more difficult, though not impossible, online.)
I mention this because I recently came across an online article about one of the more well-known online worship services, called "Darkwood Brew." It suggests a very serious question: is this one direction that the church will take moving into the next 20 years? I certainly know that some people will try it -- actually, many are already doing online worship in one form or another.
Then again, I wonder if the centrality of jazz music for Darkwood Brew suggests a path that American Christian worship has inexplicably not taken. Given the cultural importance of jazz music, I find it rather inconceivable that there is very little Christian jazz worship music. Certain churches sought to use new technologies rather quickly, such as radio, television, and the Internet, to varying success. There is no similar appropriation of jazz music, even after a century.
Showing posts with label Food for Thought. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Food for Thought. Show all posts
Friday, March 28, 2014
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Faithfully Looking for God's Presence
As I write this, the massive manhunt for the suspects who committed the bombing at the Boston Marathon appears to be over. This marks the end of a week filled with new tragedies – an evident terrorist attack, a massive chemical explosion in a Texas town, severe storms and flooding – and the anniversaries of other tragedies – including shootings at Columbine High School and Virginia Tech and the Oklahoma City bombing.
Inevitably, such new tragedies remind us of other devastating events that are seared in our memories, violent events such as the Newtown massacre and the 9/11 terrorist attacks and natural disasters like the 2004 tsunami and the Joplin tornado. The national attention and grieving make us remember where we were when Pearl Harbor was attacked and when President Kennedy was assassinated.
In the face of such events, particularly those with the loss of life, we ask, Why? Why did innocent people suffer and die? In cases of violence, we wonder in disbelief, Why would someone do this to other people?
Often, our questions then turn to God. Why would God let such awful things happen?
This question has challenged people of faith for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Where is God in the face of violent evil? Where is God in times of sudden distress, suffering, and death? Some, understanding God to be omnipotent, struggle to comprehend how an all-powerful God chooses not to prevent such tragedies. Some, understanding God to be wholly love, fear that some evil may be outside God's ability to stop.
My own assumption is that God is more active than we know, acting with wisdom that we cannot understand or fathom, which seems to be the implication of God's speech from the whirlwind in Job 38-39. I imagine that there are many more tragedies that God prevents than we endure, but, as terrorism officials are constantly reminding, it is difficult to measure success by trying to count things that don't happen.
Whether this is true or not, though, there is a persistent question, Why is God silent? If there are reasons why such tragedies must occur, why doesn't God share that wisdom with us? Why won't God speak, whether in a still, small voice or out of the whirlwind?
I certainly have wondered these things many times. I wish that God would share a glimpse of wisdom with us during these tough times; I wish God would answer our questions just as we must answer the questions of our children. But sometimes I ask another question, What could God say that I would accept? If I find the answers given in the Bible difficult to comprehend, what new word of God would I understand?
Recently, though, I've wondered if this focus on God's silence is misguided. Maybe a profound answer, almost a sigh deeper than words, is given in scripture. As the resurrected Jesus is speaking to his disciples before ascending to heaven, he says, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Maybe it is more important to see God's presence in times of chaos and tragedy than listen for God's voice.
As a person of faith, I know that God is present during times of tragedy. As waters rise and winds howl, as shrapnel flies and flames explode, God is present there. More tangibly, if also more ephemerally, I have begun to notice God's presence in the aftermath of tragedy: in those who sacrifice themselves to prevent greater loss of life, in those who rush in to help the victims, in those who move to restore order, in those who come to comfort the grieving, to pick up the pieces, to rebuild in the shadow of destruction.
After the Newtown shooting and again after the Boston Marathon bombing, a quote from Fred Rogers circulated on Facebook and the rest of the Internet. Mr. Rogers (or, really, Rev. Rogers, as he was an ordained Presbyterian minister) often said, when asked how to speak to children about tragedy, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world."
So often we experience this sinful world as cold, anxious, and broken, filled with people who are fearful, backstabbing, and selfish. How, then, do we explain those who go toward the violence, toward the suffering, toward the anguish? How do we fathom people who run into burning buildings, who dive into floodwaters, who don flak jackets and head toward gunfire?
God's presence may be difficult to see at the moment of crisis, but it is unmistakable afterwards. A handful of people may perpetrate acts of terror, pursuing their own ideological agendas, but the number of responders exponentially dwarfs them: EMTs, doctors, nurses, police, firefighters, public officials, ministers, emergency aid workers, National Guard troops, utility workers, and then, almost always, an army of volunteers. And, with few exceptions, their main agenda is this: How can I help make this awful situation better for those who are suffering?
This is an attitude of compassion and hope. These are acts of healing and love. They are the example of God Incarnate, Jesus Christ, who promised us, "I am with you always...." In fact, there are echoes when I almost hear Jesus continue, I am with you... in the hands and feet of those who bring healing and restoration... I am with you... in the hands and feet of those who share my mercy and love... I am with you... I am with you...
And I remember something my mother taught me. Actions speak louder than words.
Inevitably, such new tragedies remind us of other devastating events that are seared in our memories, violent events such as the Newtown massacre and the 9/11 terrorist attacks and natural disasters like the 2004 tsunami and the Joplin tornado. The national attention and grieving make us remember where we were when Pearl Harbor was attacked and when President Kennedy was assassinated.
In the face of such events, particularly those with the loss of life, we ask, Why? Why did innocent people suffer and die? In cases of violence, we wonder in disbelief, Why would someone do this to other people?
Often, our questions then turn to God. Why would God let such awful things happen?
This question has challenged people of faith for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Where is God in the face of violent evil? Where is God in times of sudden distress, suffering, and death? Some, understanding God to be omnipotent, struggle to comprehend how an all-powerful God chooses not to prevent such tragedies. Some, understanding God to be wholly love, fear that some evil may be outside God's ability to stop.
My own assumption is that God is more active than we know, acting with wisdom that we cannot understand or fathom, which seems to be the implication of God's speech from the whirlwind in Job 38-39. I imagine that there are many more tragedies that God prevents than we endure, but, as terrorism officials are constantly reminding, it is difficult to measure success by trying to count things that don't happen.
Whether this is true or not, though, there is a persistent question, Why is God silent? If there are reasons why such tragedies must occur, why doesn't God share that wisdom with us? Why won't God speak, whether in a still, small voice or out of the whirlwind?
I certainly have wondered these things many times. I wish that God would share a glimpse of wisdom with us during these tough times; I wish God would answer our questions just as we must answer the questions of our children. But sometimes I ask another question, What could God say that I would accept? If I find the answers given in the Bible difficult to comprehend, what new word of God would I understand?
Recently, though, I've wondered if this focus on God's silence is misguided. Maybe a profound answer, almost a sigh deeper than words, is given in scripture. As the resurrected Jesus is speaking to his disciples before ascending to heaven, he says, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Maybe it is more important to see God's presence in times of chaos and tragedy than listen for God's voice.
As a person of faith, I know that God is present during times of tragedy. As waters rise and winds howl, as shrapnel flies and flames explode, God is present there. More tangibly, if also more ephemerally, I have begun to notice God's presence in the aftermath of tragedy: in those who sacrifice themselves to prevent greater loss of life, in those who rush in to help the victims, in those who move to restore order, in those who come to comfort the grieving, to pick up the pieces, to rebuild in the shadow of destruction.
After the Newtown shooting and again after the Boston Marathon bombing, a quote from Fred Rogers circulated on Facebook and the rest of the Internet. Mr. Rogers (or, really, Rev. Rogers, as he was an ordained Presbyterian minister) often said, when asked how to speak to children about tragedy, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world."
So often we experience this sinful world as cold, anxious, and broken, filled with people who are fearful, backstabbing, and selfish. How, then, do we explain those who go toward the violence, toward the suffering, toward the anguish? How do we fathom people who run into burning buildings, who dive into floodwaters, who don flak jackets and head toward gunfire?
God's presence may be difficult to see at the moment of crisis, but it is unmistakable afterwards. A handful of people may perpetrate acts of terror, pursuing their own ideological agendas, but the number of responders exponentially dwarfs them: EMTs, doctors, nurses, police, firefighters, public officials, ministers, emergency aid workers, National Guard troops, utility workers, and then, almost always, an army of volunteers. And, with few exceptions, their main agenda is this: How can I help make this awful situation better for those who are suffering?
This is an attitude of compassion and hope. These are acts of healing and love. They are the example of God Incarnate, Jesus Christ, who promised us, "I am with you always...." In fact, there are echoes when I almost hear Jesus continue, I am with you... in the hands and feet of those who bring healing and restoration... I am with you... in the hands and feet of those who share my mercy and love... I am with you... I am with you...
And I remember something my mother taught me. Actions speak louder than words.
Monday, March 4, 2013
The Reminder of Lent
I recently read an online reflection about what the season of Lent offers us each year. (In the middle of it, I actually chuckled about how Lent creates space in our lives -- in the church, Lent tends to be a season of extra activity.) While the piece starts slowly, it grabbed me with one fantastic paragraph:
The article by Tim Keel, who is Senior Pastor of Jacob's Well Church in Kansas City, probably focuses too much on the act of giving things up for Lent (as you have probably noticed, I tend to focus more on spiritual formation and teaching than fasting during Lent, though both have ancient roots). But I greatly appreciate, especially as we are talking about seeing our faith journey from the bondage of sin to the Kingdom of God in a way that parallels the Exodus of the Hebrews, this clear statement about the truths we have to see in our own lives in order to be open to the change that God has in store for us.
What in our lives is getting in our way? What is distracting us? How are we creating roadblocks on our pilgrims' journeys? What can we learn, in this time and place, to improve this?
It's a sobering thought: the way I live my life can diminish not only my humanity but the humanity of people around me. Being honest about the fact is not just important or "a good thing to do." It is critical if I want to make a break with the past -- to renegotiate the story I am living about what makes up a good life.
The article by Tim Keel, who is Senior Pastor of Jacob's Well Church in Kansas City, probably focuses too much on the act of giving things up for Lent (as you have probably noticed, I tend to focus more on spiritual formation and teaching than fasting during Lent, though both have ancient roots). But I greatly appreciate, especially as we are talking about seeing our faith journey from the bondage of sin to the Kingdom of God in a way that parallels the Exodus of the Hebrews, this clear statement about the truths we have to see in our own lives in order to be open to the change that God has in store for us.
What in our lives is getting in our way? What is distracting us? How are we creating roadblocks on our pilgrims' journeys? What can we learn, in this time and place, to improve this?
Monday, February 25, 2013
The Gift of the Flawed Church
As I've continued reading the book Best Advice, with advice for ministers by well-regarded pastors and seminary professors, I've found another insight that I have been considering.
James C. Howell, a Methodist pastor in North Carolina, offers a short essay filled with plenty of practical advice for ministers. At the end, he briefly confronts an issue that any pastor who reads much about the church will encounter frequently -- the church is broken. Rare is the book about some aspect of church leadership that does not directly confront multiple problems that the church faces in this time.
If ministers are not careful -- and all too often we are not careful -- we can shape our pastoral efforts to counter these problems, with little appreciation of what may be right in our congregations. Howell offers an important corrective to such thinking by suggesting that there is a Spiritual gift, if not a theological necessity, for some of the perceived flaws in the church.
He writes:
More than this, I believe there is a deep appreciation of the incarnate Christ here, of God who becomes flesh not out of His necessity, but rather to meet our shortcomings. If so, then the church, when we live up to Paul's claim for us as part of the body of Christ, needs be imperfect in order to reach out to other imperfect people. This does not defend every flaw in our congregations (of which there are some with no defense), but to remind us that not everything broken needs fixing to be useful to God.
James C. Howell, a Methodist pastor in North Carolina, offers a short essay filled with plenty of practical advice for ministers. At the end, he briefly confronts an issue that any pastor who reads much about the church will encounter frequently -- the church is broken. Rare is the book about some aspect of church leadership that does not directly confront multiple problems that the church faces in this time.
If ministers are not careful -- and all too often we are not careful -- we can shape our pastoral efforts to counter these problems, with little appreciation of what may be right in our congregations. Howell offers an important corrective to such thinking by suggesting that there is a Spiritual gift, if not a theological necessity, for some of the perceived flaws in the church.
He writes:
The failure of faith, I have come to believe, is little understood. People trash the church for being a silly shell of what it ought to be, but it is the flawedness of the church that leaves room for an incarnate Lord to meet silly shells of people who aren't who they ought to be. People feel a hollowness in their souls and wish the preacher could fill the tank with clever words, but the hollowness was placed there by a God who wants to be sought, not found.What an interesting way to approach the shortcomings of a church! To be sure, the church is full of problems because the church is full of people (to borrow a saying that floats around church leadership circles). But what if it isn't only our hypocrisy that holds us back as Christians? What if the church can never fully meet our spiritual needs because no church can fully represent the living God?
-- James C. Howell, "Don't Take My Advice," Best Advice: Wisdom on Ministry from 30 Leading Pastors and Preachers, pp. 73-74
More than this, I believe there is a deep appreciation of the incarnate Christ here, of God who becomes flesh not out of His necessity, but rather to meet our shortcomings. If so, then the church, when we live up to Paul's claim for us as part of the body of Christ, needs be imperfect in order to reach out to other imperfect people. This does not defend every flaw in our congregations (of which there are some with no defense), but to remind us that not everything broken needs fixing to be useful to God.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Expecting Others to Do Things Our Way
Recently, I've been reading a book with advice from well-regarded pastors and seminary professors for ministers. Called Best Advice, it offers insight into ministry and preaching based on years of experience.
While the essays are definitely intended for those who preach regularly and serve in congregational ministry, there are nuggets of wisdom for everyone in the church about how better to live out our calling as Christians.
Recently, while reading an essay on trying to increase diversity in congregations -- where it still remains true that Sunday worship is the most segregated hour in this country each week -- I was pleasantly surprised to read about newness in a way that more Christians should take to heart. Too often, I see Christians who want to insist that they alone have figured out God's truth, and try again and again to make others see things -- and then do things -- that one way, their way. As you might imagine, this could be a challenge to worshiping and serving with others who are different, whether that difference is racial, economic, general age, disposition toward technology, or whatever.
Miguel A. De La Torre writes:
And this is especially true when we invite people to join our congregation. If we are not open to them, if we only insist on our way, we will be closed off to the gifts that they could share with us, to the new opportunities for growth they may offer us, and to the new insight into the gracious splendor of God's creation.
While the essays are definitely intended for those who preach regularly and serve in congregational ministry, there are nuggets of wisdom for everyone in the church about how better to live out our calling as Christians.
Recently, while reading an essay on trying to increase diversity in congregations -- where it still remains true that Sunday worship is the most segregated hour in this country each week -- I was pleasantly surprised to read about newness in a way that more Christians should take to heart. Too often, I see Christians who want to insist that they alone have figured out God's truth, and try again and again to make others see things -- and then do things -- that one way, their way. As you might imagine, this could be a challenge to worshiping and serving with others who are different, whether that difference is racial, economic, general age, disposition toward technology, or whatever.
Miguel A. De La Torre writes:
Becoming a new creature in Christ is not to be taken figuratively, but literally. The question that the church must ask itself is how much it is willing to change to become a new place where all can come to worship the Lord. The church willing to diversify will never succeed while holding on to the attitude that "this is the way we've always done it and if you want to join us, you must convert and become like us." The church that is "saved" is less concerned with converting the world to its doctrine or way of worshiping God. Rather, it is focused on how much it must be converted to become more Christlike in order to be relevant to a hurting and disjointed world.Of course, some will rightly question how we approach those who do not have a relationship with God or Jesus Christ without encouraging people to do things our way. But how much better for us to worry more about our ongoing conversion -- or discipleship, if you prefer -- to Christ's way of doing things in this world, than to dictate how others must live or believe in order to be Christian.
-- Miguel A. De La Torre, "Dealing with Diversity," Best Advice: Wisdom on Ministry from 30 Leading Pastors and Preachers, p. 59
And this is especially true when we invite people to join our congregation. If we are not open to them, if we only insist on our way, we will be closed off to the gifts that they could share with us, to the new opportunities for growth they may offer us, and to the new insight into the gracious splendor of God's creation.
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