community — Clayfire Curator

Spiritual Community: 18 and Over Only Please

by Jodi-Renee Adams | November 17, 2011

It’s funny the things we take for granted.

I had a consulting contract with a local Big Church and set a Sunday to attend their morning worship services so I could get an overview on things. A good friend, not estranged from GOD though vocally distant from “organized religion,” decided to attend with me—probably in the hopes of a free lunch afterwards. Of course, I didn’t expect him to participate and I was prepared for the cynical facial expressions he could compose like so much well-placed furniture. What I wasn’t prepared for was his increasingly nervous scanning of the room over the course of the first ten minutes of songs. As the energy (and the volume) in the room continued to escalate, he turned to me and grabbed my arm, seeming a little freaked out. “Where have all the children gone?”

I almost laughed out loud. Of course the childless sanctuary seemed bizzare to my never-been-to-Big-Church friend. When we entered the large building, there were children appearing magically around corners and from practically underneath the doughnut table. There were gaggles of pre-adolescents entrenched beneath alcoves and under the decorative silk trees. Baby cries and baby-babble bounced around the high ceilings. Then we entered the dark, high-tech space of the auditorium and voila. Vanished. Not a little person in sight.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that Big Community worship had no place in Big Church. We have programs for kids, for tweens, for pre-teens, for adolescents, for college “kids.” And once the family shows up at church, they wave goodbye to each other and the under-18s disappear into brightly colored and “age-friendly” rooms while the parents are absorbed into the throng of adults in the sanctuary until the service is done when everyone is reunited, rejuvenated, and needs-met-happy. What does this teach our children about the community of faith? Ah, log in my own eye—what does it reinforce in my own experience and expectations of the Body of Christ?

My friend, with his refreshing lack of cultural associations, put his finger on something poignant. There is something bizzare, alien, and almost life-draining about a “community gathering” that is devoid of its children and young people. All his “BBCA sci-fi” jokes aside, I think that he saw into a schism that we might have inadvertently, and with the best of intentions, reinforced.

Our attempts to “train our children up in the way they should go” means we have linked arms with a Western culture that tailors everything to our needs–whether they be perceived or actual. One of those needs was to make Christianity fun and relevant to kids; and one (maybe unintentional though it’s a complaint the nursery-free church hears a bit) was to remove the distractions a.k.a. children from worship. So it got me wondering: What are the actual needs of children and even the whole community when it comes to the worship gathering?

Programming cannot replace relationship and experience in the formation that takes place in a child (and in the community represented in the metaphor). Somewhere along the line, we decided that children can’t worship in the same way or through the same means as adults. And yet these kids become young people in the church who don’t understand why the faith community matters, why Eucharist nurtures, or even how to pray. When Church fails to meet their perceived needs, it ceases to become relevant. And so the cycle continues on and on.

When the children disappear from community worship–scuttled off like so many miniature Quasimodos–it implies something about our understanding of community. Of worship. Of GOD.

The plates are shifting underground. Conversations need to be had. The next generation of the Church may depend on it. But no pressure…

Image: Communion at Ecclesia, Denver, © Stephen Proctor

Categories: Formation

Small Risks with Big Returns

by Guest Blogger | October 21, 2011

This post was written by Ben Moore.

I recently saw a chart an HR department used to help create a deeper sense of community within the workplace. It was a pyramid. On one side of the pyramid was an arrow pointing up labeled “Risk.” On the other side was another arrow pointing up labeled “Trust.” The bottom level of the pyramid was labeled “Cliché and Ritual.” The top of the pyramid was labeled “Open Sharing.”

Now, I’m not normally the type to get caught up in organizational pyramids, or any other kind of chart for that matter, but the truth of this particular pyramid hit me so hard it took me a minute to realize why it was so shocking.

While half of my realization was not all that shocking—that churches that tend toward ritual and cliché are not likely to take risks—the other half knocked my metaphorical socks off. Churches that tend toward ritual and cliché tend to have very low levels of trust. Also, churches that take very few risks show a lack of trust within the community organization. Finally, what the creators of the chart call “Open Sharing” we are likely to call “Authenticity.” The less risk we take, the less trust we show; the more ritual and cliché we depend on the less authentic we will be. It was shocking, both because it was so against some parts of my understanding and because it seemed so obvious.

If we want to build true community based on authentic worship and authentic relationships it is imperative that we find ways to take risks in our worship curation and invite the community in which we worship and curate to take risks as well. There are numerous ways we can encourage more risk taking and authenticity in our worship services, and I certainly don’t think I have the market cornered. But I would like to share some of the small risks I’m taking and how they are building more authenticity into my worshiping community.

Encouraging deeper levels of sharing prior to our primary prayer time. This may seem simple, or even insignificant, but it has made a big difference for us. It used to be that the only things we shared were the really big things—heart attacks, cancer, broken bones. While these are all important, they are mostly surface problems. Deeper sharing means things we may not consider as significant but that are also more intimate parts of our lives. Talking about promotions, struggles at work or in marriages, celebration of birthdays and many other life happenings can create a much more authentic community.

Welcoming laity to speak and giving them the freedom to be themselves. Inviting lay people to speak without scripting what they say allows for the possibility that they will interrupt the plans of the curator or the flow of the service, but it also allows them to be their authentic selves.

Refraining from overexplaining. While it is necessary to be clear about what is happening and what people are being asked to do throughout the service, I also used to feel the need to overexplain theological points and the meaning of worship elements. The wisdom of God doesn’t begin or end with me, though, and I’m trying to learn to allow God to speak beyond my limitations in the worship service.

Remove some aspect of church ritual each week. I’m not setting out to eliminate ritual altogether. Comfort and safety are aspects of what God provides us, and ritual can remind us of that. But not having the exact same rituals each week keeps ritual from becoming an idol, increases the number of risks taken in the service and requires deeper engagement from the community.

To some, these steps may seem small and simple—safe, even—when it comes to risk taking. And they may be; I’m still learning one step at a time. Every church I have ever been associated with has been steeped in ritual, cliche and safety. Some of them have managed to form community outside of and in spite of the worship practices. Others have merely been religious organizations or institutions. I now know that ritual is not necessary or even preferred. So I am stepping out, ever so slowly, knowing that the risk is worth it to help create an authentic and trusting community of faith.

Ben Moore is the Pastor of Bethany Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Richmond, Virginia. Ben and his congregation are trying to find a way to take a church born in the 19th century, and that had its heyday in the mid 20th century, into the 21st century in a way that is authentic and meaningful. Ben is the husband of Tammy, who consistently reminds him of the need to be alive and engaged. Follow Ben on Twitter @PastorBen52 and read more of his writing on his blog.

Categories: Formation

Holy Meals and Mangled Metal

by Guest Blogger | September 6, 2011

This post was written by Kevin Rains.

My worlds collided and united on February 5th, 2011.

I have owned an auto body shop in Cincinnati for the past 8 years and during most of that time I was also the pastor of a network of house churches and an intentional community. No matter how much I’ve learned or even taught that “all work is sacred” and “we’re all ministers” the world of the body shop and the world of ministry have remained apart. I had no embodied experience to bring them together. Until that day in February.

As part of my doctoral studies I’ve been working on a curriculum for spiritual formation for our communities called FORMED. One of the monthly modules of the FORMED curriculum is on work. This module coincided with the body shop buying another building (that used to be a transmission shop) for expansion so we decided to host the FORMED gathering in this new space… this chaotic, greasy, dirty, space.

We went about the business of planning for the 40 or so people who were coming. Setting up chairs, hanging cloth from the rafters to soften the space, converting an old office space into a child care room and just generally getting all the old transmission parts moved out of our way. But right in the middle of all this was a frame rack that we had recently purchased for the expansion. A frame rack is typically the largest tool in a body shop. It took up almost 300 square feet of floor space and weighs in at several tons. And it was right in the middle of the space we were creating for this gathering. It was completely in the way.

And then someone had the idea. “What if we made this our table? What if this became the gathering place for our meal?” One of the presenters that day was a local urban farmer and he had already volunteered to design a meal of locally grown food as part of the gathering. So the frame rack that was “in the way” now became the centerpiece of our gathering. With some beautiful fabric, string lights all around and candles adorning both sides it became the locus of a shared meal, hospitality, gathering, prayer, learning, nourishment and worship. In short it went from a grimy tool that untwists and straightens metal to the Lord’s table, a place of communion and community. And for me it became an icon of the intersection of my work and my worship.

I once heard Tim Keller say that all work is bringing order out of chaos and that is one of the primary ways we reflect the image of God who did just that at creation. (see Genesis 1:1-2) In the body shop I’m daily reminded of the chaos that still surrounds us as cars are towed in with leaking fluids, bent metal, broken plastic and shattered glass. And it’s amazing to watch the transformations that occur! Frames are straightened, new panels are welded on, plastic is repaired, glass is replaced, and cars are painted and buffed to look better than they did before the accident.

This is true of your job as well. From dentists who fill damaged teeth, to plumbers who get leaky pipes in order, to educators who transform the chaos of teenage minds into ordered learning of biology, to administrative assistants who take the chaos of their boss’s email inbox and calendar and wrangle it into something manageable and meaningful. And you do it too wherever you work!

Here are a few ideas to help you curate worship in the workplace:

1. Have your small group members bring an icon of their work to your meeting and let each one explain how that represents what they do and how they bring order from chaos. Pray a blessing over each person as they hold the symbol of their work. This could also be adapted to a larger gathering as well.

2. How might you include blue collar tools and talent in your next experiential worship gathering beyond just setting things up or building something for it?

3. How might sharing a meal with your co-workers foster community and worship?

Kevin Rains is the owner of Center City Collision, an auto body shop in Cincinnati. He is also finishing up a doctorate in leadership and spiritual formation at George Fox University. His dissertation is centered on developing a curriculum for spiritual formation that is both communal and missional. This developing project is called FORMED. He also blogs regularly at The Kedge. He lives with his wife, three children, two dogs and seven friends in the Brownhouse.

Categories: Formation

The Many Faces of Worship in South Africa (part one)

by Guest Blogger | July 20, 2011

This post was written by John van de Laar. Read part two here.

“Africa is not for sissies!” This comment was made by a friend who had returned to South Africa after a few years of living abroad. He mentioned that in Africa there was a unique energy, a vibrancy, that he had missed when he was away, and that was both inspiring and deeply challenging. As a born South African, I knew what he meant, and I have experienced this energy in every part of this country and its communities that I have had the pleasure of encountering – not least in the worship of South African churches.

But right here is where things begin to get complicated. There is not one way of worship in South Africa. With eleven official languages, a wide gap between rich and poor and a society that embraces both the technological advances of the first world and the earth-dependent subsistence of the third world, we are one of the most diverse nations in the world – and this diversity has always been reflected in our worship. As a result, what I offer in this article is not a definitive description of South African worship. It is an intuitive reflection of my own learning and experience, gleaned from three decades of facilitating worship gatherings around the country, in an array of different environments, and from sharing with others – gifted musicians, liturgists and theologians.

The churches in South Africa fall into many different groups and cultures. We have the African Independent Churches, which are among the fastest growing faith communities in our country, and which have, since their birth, sought to encounter God in Christ through the language, symbols and cultural expressions that are indigenous to Africa. Then, there are the large, mainline denominations, brought to Africa through the missionary efforts of the colonial era, whose worship remains a hybrid of African language and European liturgy, and of African and European hymnody. Finally, there are the newer Pentecostal and independent churches, which are born out of the theology, music and worship practices of North America and Australia. These may range from theologically conservative communities that emphasise the charismatic gifts of the Spirit, to those that are more post-modern (or, from an African perspective, post-colonial) and akin to the emerging church movement.

Yet, even these categorisations are false, because they are way too simplistic. The cross-pollination and mutual influence between these groups cannot be measured, and so the worship culture of Africa has become incredibly and challengingly dynamic. Three main headings may help us to begin to understand some of the primary movements that flow through all South African communities. These are: The Worshipping community, The Worship Leader/Curator, and The Music of Worship.

The Worshipping Community
In Africa the community has always been the primary reality, as expressed in our, now famous, word Ubuntu, which is shorthand for the saying umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu which means “I am a person because of other people” or, to state it in Western philosophical terms, “I am because I belong.” This sense of community is deeply reflected in the indigenous worship of South Africa and is, perhaps, most starkly encountered in the way ancestors are respected and included in the way community is defined.

For South African Christians, ancestors are understood to be the “great cloud of witnesses” that the writer to the Hebrews speaks of in Chapter 12 verse 1. But, these forebears are not simply passive observers. They remain active and engaged with the living community and must be considered and honoured by it. However, as Western thinking has infiltrated the South African Church, some communities have shunned this view, calling it (wrongly) “ancestor worship” and denouncing it as a primitive carry over from a pre-Christian past. As such, the way Christian community is defined and expressed ranges from the traditional African understanding which includes the ancestors and makes the community the primary point of reference, to a more Western understanding in which the community is little more than a group of people in which individuals choose to participate, and in which the individual is the primary point of reference. Needless to say these views of community influence the way worship is prepared and facilitated, both in terms of the “leadership” of worship and in the use of hymnody and other art forms…

Continue reading John van de Laar’s assessment of South African worship tomorrow when we will publish part two of “The Many Faces of Worship in South Africa.”

John van de Laar is a Methodist minister and the founder of Sacredise worship consulting, resourcing and publishing ministry. He was born in South Africa and lives today in Cape Town. For over twenty years John has been teaching congregations, worship leaders, and clergy to enter worship as a transforming encounter with God that leads us into lives of justice, grace and compassion. John holds a Masters degree in Theology, is a songwriter, musician, and the author of The Hour That Changes Everything – How Worship Forms Us Into the People God Wants Us to Be. John has been married to Debbie for nearly twenty-five years and they have two sons. Follow him on Twitter @sacredise. Like him on Facebook.

Categories: Curation

Tony Jones, Prayer, and Being Evangelical @ The Goose

by Jodi-Renee Adams | June 28, 2011

I’m an Evangelical. There. The cat’s out of the bag. Grant you, I feel the need to point out that I’m a “E”vangelical, not an “e”vangelical. I use the word to give one of those labels that make us more comfortable because it aligns us with a particular tribe, a common-unity and makes us at least a bit understandable. You are there and I am here. In this case, it defines my creed and statement of belief but not my culture so much, in case you hadn’t already figured that out. You’re a smart bunch.

This last weekend, I took my little Evangelical self to the Wild Goose Festival in Shakori Hills, North Carolina. Wild Goose… a festival to celebrate art, justice, music and spirituality. Talk about a diverse tribe. One of the most beautiful things about Wild Goose: the demographic spanned every possible life stage and age bracket without any crazy skew towards one group. The grounds were animated by just as many laughing, dirty-faced children and silver heads with wise-lined faces as there were inked up thirty-somethings or youngish hipsters with little square glasses and cowboy shirts. In my mind, that in and of itself is a statement. Hey, there’s something stirring, something afoot, something curious and mysterious at work in the Church.

Nonetheless, my tribe seemed to be in the minority at ye ol’ Wild Goose. This became most evident when I headed over to the geodesic dome for a conversation with my friend and one of my favorite writers-thinkers, Dr. Tony Jones. (I’m throwing the Dr. part in just in case Tony reads this. GOD knows, he earned it and I make fun of him enough to off-set it anyway.) The Geodesic Dome, aside from just being a pretty fantastic physical space, was a forum where a thinker or “expert” would come in and present a question to which they do not have an answer. And then we dialogue. Tony’s question: Why Pray?

My first reaction: Excitement. These topics weren’t overwhelming the line-up at Wild Goose. We were talking about something that had to do – very concretely – with spiritual formation. With Christian tradition and discipline. With something that, honestly, I was curious to know how the other Emergents (yes to Phyllis Tickle, no to Mark Driscoll) would handle it. I’ll let you in on a secret: I sometimes entertain this idea that maybe hip Emergents don’t pray, read the Bible, engage in The Hours or the disciplines because they’re so in tune with the GOD-at-Present that they believe these things to be trite, unenlightened, maybe even a bit superstitious. Here was a chance to hear a group of diverse but unified people converse on this topic.

Heading into the conversation, Tony took about ten minutes to set it up, to lay out his process and thoughts to this point. And then he threw the ball to the group: so if it’s not x or y or z, then we do we pray? The conversation turned existential very, very quickly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a girl who’s always good for a good turn around the philosophical dance floor; but Tony’s question was an apologetic one, as he kept reminding the group. “What makes prayer a uniquely Christian practice?” Apparently, this was not a concern for the bulk of us gathered since some of the most common responses were “Why does it need to be?”

It was an odd place to be — standing between the enharmonic of why prayer doesn’t seem to matter and the importance of why it should. It’s not making the world a better place in any visibly monumental ways. It’s not theologically inclined to the notion that it forms us into the image of Christ. So, um…

But the other odd place here in this dome was the space created where the teacher was decidedly and purposefully standing in as the student. While Dr. Jones was still present, tossing out the grand process of his thought around this topic and even grander ideologies, every sentence ended with a vibe of “don’t you think?” or “could it be?”

There were a few comments Tony made that flew at me in 3-D given the audience and the context. The first was this: “There’s lots of things [Jesus] didn’t talk about that we have opinions on, but he did talk about prayer… and he did [pray].” Here we were – sitting in the middle of a phenomenal landscape with a radical group of spiritual people, really seeking out the Divine imagination around issues like creation care and sexuality and being ready to carry those flags in the name of Christ (and for that I say, thanks be to GOD) but in that one statement, I felt like Tony captured my fear and struggle with my own faith and with the context in which I must work that faith out.

I don’t fit in with my old tribe, the “e”vangelicals. And I sometimes fear that we progressives and creatives are just creating a new subculture of Christianity – just a little more hip, cynical, and edgy. We have our celebrities, our music, our group think. Wild Goose made me think about it – with her beautiful fluidity of engagement smattered with the occasional moment of spiritual consumerism. It was a vibe definitely not geared to those of a less wide-open persuasion. The dialogue that Tony facilitated intrigued me for that very reason but his summation moved me to a deep inner recognition that seemed to buzz through the whole dome, regardless of ones tradition or cultural persuasion:

I pray to be obedient because Jesus says to pray. This is my prayer: Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner.

Yes. Exhale.

I’ll be honest with you – some days, that’s the reason I worship too. Because Jesus did it. Not because I get it or I’m more enlightened or in touch or spiritually eager. (Sorry, red wine just came out my nose on that one.) I don’t have all the answers and sometimes I feel like this is our own little geodesic dome right here with me throwing out a question and hoping the dialogue will give me something to move forward again. It’s not always popular and certainly not seemingly enlightened to show up at church Sunday after Sunday with the kids in tow and no great argument for why we need to be there, or at least not a good Christian apologetic.

Wild Goose was an extraordinary community experience that I hope you will consider attending next year. In the meantime, I lift you all up in my prayers – some of you by name, some of you by proxy – all of you in spirit.

Categories: Formation