Sermon Podcast: Welcoming the Little Ones (Mark 9:30-37)
The latest Podcast is up!.
You can read it here in plain text.
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Trunk r' Treat + Chili Supper!
Guess what? It’s almost October! And what does this mean? It means there are already literally tons of costumes being sifted through at your local Meijer as you read this.
It also means that Halloween Trick-or-Treat anxiety is welling up inside parents and homeowners alike.
That said, we’d like to invite all of you to join us for our annual Trunk r’ Treat + Chili Supper this October 27 from 4–5:30pm. It’s the Saturday before Halloween, so you can still go Trick-or-Treating on Wednesday and not miss out on the awesome chili and candy here at DBCC that is becoming quite the autumn tradition.
Oh, did we mention the River Sirens will be singing? And that the Bardstown Bound Boofest is happening simultaneously?
So, please come out and join us for an awesome time of chili, folk music, funny costumes, technicolor leaves, and, of course, CANDY!
Part of your nutritious breakfast.
Sermon Podcast: Being Faithful (Mark 8:27-38)
Sermon Podcast: The Constraints of Freedom (Gen. 2:15-17, 3:1-7)
Hey folks, due to some tech issues (and a big behind the scenes maneuver with the website), we don't have a brand spankin' new Sermon Podcast for this week.
We know, we know. You're disappointed.
To get your DBCC fix for the week, here is a sermon Rev. Penwell gave on March 14, 2011. It's a pretty good one.
The Constraints of Freedom (Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7) from Douglassblvdcc on Vimeo.
The River Sirens at DLFM!
Everyone check out The River Sirens at the Douglass Loop Farmers Market on Oct. 13th!
Our own Stephanie Mattingly and Claire Mosley, along with the lovely Emily Smith of the River Sirens will be playing sweet, soothing bluegrass on the porch of Briney Hall (barring ground-breaking for renovation).
Seriously. Come on out.
We really love these ladies.
Let's go Hunger Walkin'!
The Louisville Hunger Walk sponsored by Dare to Care is this Sunday!
The Walk/Run begins at 2:15, but we'll have to be there early to get ourselves registered. Registration is $25 for adults, and (at least in years past) you get a pretty sweet t-shirt to commemorate your contribution.
If you are interested in riding the Church van to the Belvedere, be sure to e-mail Geoff Wallace or Jennifer Vandiver before Sunday so that we can get a relative head count.
For more info, visit http://www.thehungerwalk.org/
Come on out for a good time and a noble cause!
God, Tree Climbing, and Infinite Surprise
"It pleased him to imagine God as someone like his mother, someone beleaguered by too many responsibilities, too dog-tired to monitor an energetic boy every minute of the day, but who, out of love and fear for his safety, checked in on him whenever she could. Was this so crazy? Surely God must have other projects besides Man [sic], just as his parents had responsibilities other than raising their children? Miles liked the idea of a God who, when He at last had the opportunity to return His attention to His children, might shake His head with wonder and mutter, "Jesus. Look what they're up to now." A distractible God, perhaps, one who'd be startled to discover so many of His children way up in trees since the last time He looked. A God whose hand would go rushing to His mouth in fear in that instant of recognition that—good God!—that kid's going to hurt himself. A God who could be surprised by unanticipated pride—glory be, that boy is a climber!" (Richard Russo, Empire Falls).
I love this quote from Richard Russo. God as a distracted mother, responsible for so much, but ferociously attached to her children. I like that. Being married to a mother ferociously attached to her children, but responsible for much else, I'm partial to this image of God. Notwithstanding the questions of orthodoxy (the impassibility and omnicompetence of God), I still like to think of God as much less overbearing than we're traditionally given to believe. I know of and agree with Karl Barth's rather imperious sounding dictum that "God is not human being said in a loud voice!" Still, a surprised and delighted God is a comforting notion in a world filled with pinch-faced people certain that God's highest vocation revolves around abstemiously policing human indiscretion and rooting out joy from among possible human achievement. Surely God must find some joy in human achievement, even (perhaps especially) at its most outrageously indiscreet.
If God had a hand in creating us, God must take some delight in us--and not just when we're wearing our Sunday best either. Human life, as messy and venal as it sometime seems, offers up moments of true grace and rapture—often squarely deposited in the midst of the messiness and venality, rather than despite it. My delight in my children, when I can subdue my own pinch-faced abstemiousness long enough, often comes in realizing the amazing extent to which they are infinitely capable and amazingly clever at goofing up. How, for example, sophisticated electronic gadgets when in my children's hands acquire the properties of divining rods, sniffing out water (toilets, the dog's water bowl, etc.) with alarming precision, is an object of true wonderment to me. Why should God be any less amazed at my own stunning penchant for dropping delicate stuff in the toilet?
The clear temptation that accompanies an image of God as slightly harried parent is that it lets me off the hook with respect to my messes--as if to say, I can do whatever I want because God's busy minding gravity. This would, of course, constitute a singularly self-serving picture of God as undiscerning and ceaselessly approving. But the positive thing this image of God offers, I think, is an opportunity to hold on a little less tightly to myself and to my own need to get everything exactly right--to view my own children, not so much as a project to be perfected but a gift to be enjoyed, to be wondered over, and shared with the rest of the world.
A God surprised by and unanticipatedly proud of tree climbers (and their parents)—that sounds like grace to me.
Sermon Podcast: The Need for Wisdom (8/26)
This week's sermon was given on the text of Ephesians 5:15-20.
If you would like to read the transcript instead, here is the link.
Sermon Podcast: Mexico Reflections (7/29)
Sermon Podcast: The Broom Tree (1 Kings 19:1-15a)
Rev. Penwell's sermon on when we, like Elijah, would just like to give up and find ourselves waiting under the broom tree.
If you'd also like to read it, here is the link to the text version.
Sermon Podcast: The Bread We Ask For (John 6:24-35)
Flowering in the Desert: The Church in an Inhospitable Environment
I am in Mexico as I write this. I can look outside and see the sun at work drying the hard brown earth. Children playing soccer make dust devils swirl as they run.
San Luis Potosí lies nestled in the arid mountains of central México. It’s difficult to imagine that anything can grow here, since so much of the year passes without rain. Yet everywhere you look you can see small patches of green fingers poking out from the ground—a little grass here and there, cacti, mesquite trees. The bougainvilleas paint purple and red pictures against a brown backdrop.
Walking out in the countryside, however, emphasizes the inhospitable nature of the environment. Rocks, sand, mountains—at times an almost lunar landscape. Beauty, but a dread kind of beauty—angular, lots of sharp barbs and keen edges.
As I walk, I puzzle over who it was that wandered into this part of the world first and thought it might make a good home. Water is a mission rather than a natural resource. Food requires imagination and ingenuity borne on the bent back of sun-scorched labor.
And yet, in the midst of this uncooperative terrain life blooms. Stubborn plants prosper. Animals breed. People live and love and create; they produce children who laugh and old people who still sing.
“How can this be?” I wonder. In conditions less than hospitable to life … life flourishes. Sinuous. Unyielding. Spiny.
It makes no sense that I can see. Still there is life.
People have speculated recently about the viability of Christianity. In particular, the church and its waning popularity has stood at the center of the discussion. The numbers seem clear: the church, with few exceptions, has fallen on hard times. The soil that only a few generations ago was fertile and black has hardened—just a few unflagging tendrils peeking through cracks, a flash of color here and there from plants that will not surrender, a tree or a cactus that has made peace with its grim environment.
But there is life … and if you look closely, more life than first meets the eye. There are churches thriving under impossible circumstances: announcing the reign of God, pursuing justice, tending the sick, feeding the hungry, holding hands with those left to die in the desert.
It occurs to me that the church has experienced lean seasons in the past. But every time things green up for a bit, we think the fat years are permanent, that the land of milk and honey knows no drought or blight. But plenty never lasts.
On the other hand, neither does lean.
What an inhospitable environment can produce is strength and focus, and the tenacity to do what we have been given to do, even though we may never see it result in the kind of fecundity we think signals “success.”
Heroes and saints are almost never made during easy times. The first holy mothers and fathers bloomed in the desert, after all. Heroes and saints aren’t people who do great things for God because they have no shortcomings, no flaws, no challenges from their environment; heroes and saints are people who do great things for God in spite of the fact that the deck’s stacked against them, that the shortcomings and flaws always threaten to undo them, that the environment in which they live doesn’t want them. Heroes and saints are people determined to live their everyday lives as if God matters more than the sum total of their weaknesses and challenges.
We may very well be in the desert.
Now, I think, is the time for heroes and saints, for a church unwilling to yield.
¡Mexico! Post-trip reflections: Geoff Wallace
I have traveled to a number of different counties on this earth. I have seen many cultures unalike to my own. I have met many people who live very different lives than mine. I have learned from these experiences; each one shaping and reshaping the person I am and will become. There are few places, however, that are as dear to my heart as San Luis Potosi, SLP, Mexico.
This past July was my third trip in as many years to the Casa Hogar de San Juan Children’s Home in San Luis Potosi. Each trip has been uniquely special to me. Each trip has revealed to me a different side of myself. They have given me new insights into my own path, and yielded some unforgettable stories from man-pants to a solo unintended extension to my stay.
The relationships that groups traveling to Casa Hogar have cultured throughout the years could never be quantified nor could their importance be measured to each individual. It is fascinating how folks can become so incredibly intimate with a group of people with whom they can barely communicate. We are all family there as soon as we arrive on the grounds. Those who truly feel that love understand above all others the intoxication it can hold.
The unexpected relationships of these journeys, however absent minded it may seem to overlook them, are the relationships we build amongst ourselves as we travel as a group to “foreign” lands. The past three years have proven to be ones of great change in my life. While these changes could in part be attributed to major milestones in my life, I will never understate the importance of Casa Hogar as an influence on how my life is and will continue to play out.
Three years ago I was in my senior year at the University of Louisville. For over two years, I had been coming to Douglass as a section leader in the choir. In those two years, I could have counted on one hand how many folks I had ever spoken to. Since returning from my first trip to Casa Hogar that autumn, not only have I gained a whole new church family (something I never expected to happen again after leaving my childhood church in Morgantown, KY) but I am now on staff and committed to the task of ensuring that others get to experience all that Douglass Blvd. Christian Church is and could be.
Casa Hogar and the folks who occupy it open up the hearts of those who come to share their home. They create an atmosphere of warmth that relieves us of the barriers we put up around our lives; whether it be physical, economical, social or emotional. They set an example of exactly what the family of God looks like.
Most who venture south to Casa Hogar go expecting to open their hearts to “needy” children. But there is something we are rarely ever prepared for.
When you open your heart for something … anything, you’ll always be surprised what else finds its way inside that you may have been looking for all along.
Originally posted at www.soygeoffwallace.com as "¡Ohhhhhh Mexico!".
Sermon Podcast: Being Weak (Second Corinthians 2:1-12)
¡Mexico! Part 3: 'Agua Day' - Allison King
Today was all about 'agua', beginning at 2:30 a.m. when Ruth Ann, Mary, and Christina awoke to two inches of water on their bedroom floor - the result of a disconnected faucet in the girl's bathroom. This led to panic, then bailing out and mopping, with everyone pitching in, including Betty, John and Salina. Then it was back to bed...for about five minutes...when we began to hear the sobs and cries of a young boy in the courtyard - a sleepover guest who apparently woke up frightened in a strange place and wanted to go home. Betty got dressed and took him home. Exciting night! After breakfast and a couple of trips to the plumbing supply house, we got to work replacing the plastic water lines that had been melted at some point by steam that backed up in the lines. Much collaboration helped get the job done, with some people drilling holes for clamps to hang the pipes, others putting in the clamps, and dad and Basil working on installing a new water heater. We were finally ready around 6 to tear out the old lines and hook up the new one. All went without a hitch and all have been reveling in warm showers since, including all of the teenage girls who returned to the home yesterday from camp. It was a long day of work, finished off with a fun bonfire organized by the guys, complete with s'mores that all of the kids loved. I continue to be so impressed with the kids' self-sufficiency and care for one another...all kept a look out for the younger kids during the bonfire...at one point patting out some cinders that landed on a young boy. It's Sunday morning now and off to church...more fun to come.
¡Mexico! Part 2: Paula Spugnardi
Hello, I am Paula Spugnardi, and this is my first time writing a blog entry. My fourteen year old son, Philip and I are here at Casa Hogar for the second time. My task today is to recap our “tourist day” yesterday.
We awoke to the crowing of roosters and prepared to leave by 7:00 a.m.. (The adult Americanos typically gather around the coffee pot each morning and have a leisurely morning of teasing and laughing and inquiring about each other’s sleep and overall health. Being a part of a community is one of my favorite aspects of this experience.) Back to yesterday, amazingly enough, all sixteen of us were ready at 7:00. We loaded up the 15 passenger van and John’s (our host’s) 1985 yellow Dodge Dart and began our three hour trip to Leon. We had a restroom break where we each paid three pesos to enter the restrooms. Upon Derek’s suggestion, we brought several rolls of toilet paper - sometimes they ration t.p. in public restrooms. Speaking of public restrooms, Christina said she never thought she would be so happy to use a public restroom. Toilets that flush, that have stall doors and bathroom floors without standing water are really appreciated.
At Leon we enjoyed shopping at the market. Leon is known for its leather goods. I bought a pair of cowboy boots without speaking any Spanish! Plastic currency really is universally understood.
At Leon, a 10 year old Mexican boy attached himself to our group at the money exchange place and followed us from store to store in helpful, “may I be of service” kind of way. As we prepared to go into lunch, he wanted to pray for us, so we gathered around and closed our eyes. It was in Spanish, but I think the Hail Mary was part of it. It was rather lengthy. The practical traveler in me opened my eyes every so often to make sure this wasn’t a scam in which is cohorts would slip in and steal our money, Fortunately, that was not the case. After Derek gave him a tip, we entered the restaurant, and he went on his way.
After lunch we headed to Guanajuato. Guanajuato is a beautiful, colonial town built on a hillside. We drove through a few tunnels to get the city center. We obviously needed to park our big 15 passenger van, and we followed John and his Dodge Dart into a parking garage that was built into a mountain. Let’s just say, the Dodge Dart had a lot easier time navigating the parking garage than our big old van did. There were many close calls and held breaths as we ascended the garage. We were often inches away from hitting another car of part of the structure, but Derek masterfully maneuvered the van through it all. Halfway through, Christina told Derek she wanted to sing him “You are the Wind Beneath My Wings.” We were all appreciative of Derek’s driving skills. As we reached the top I peeked into the Dart. Philip was grinning from ear to ear enjoying the adventure. Sam’s head was down reading The Shining. He missed his own father’s shining moment. As we parked, Bill rolled out of the Dart and in his humorous way said, “Well that was different.” On the way down, it was one more thrill after another. Once we were through, I asked my traveling companions to describe the experience. Here are there responses:
Basil “treacherous.”
Gabe “trying to drive a Pac Man course”
Geoff: “taking a fifty foot beam in a tight hallway”
Guanajuato was truly spectacular. The streets are closed to traffic and are brick lined. The houses and businesses are painted in bright colors. We all enjoyed shopping in the market then heading through the downtown to one of its beautiful churches. One of our favorite places was a tree encircled plaza. We watched two street artists make bookmarks with spray paint. (It is a lot cooler than it sounds.) We purchased several, so you may get to see their work when we get back. Derek arranged for a Mariachi band to play for us.
We headed up the mountain and had supper at Real de la Esperanza - a restaurant that was built to look like an old church. We were the only patrons - which is a good thing because we were a merry party and laughed a lot. John parked the Dodge Dart on an incline behind the van and put two rocks under the wheels to make sure it didn’t roll down the hill.
It was dark when we started back up the mountain on our way home. It was a twisty, turning, road, and the fumes from the Dart got to me. Geoff changed seats with me, so I could sit a little closer to the front. Gary gave me a plastic bag just in case, and sure enough I had to use it! All were kind. I especially appreciated Ruth Ann’s gift of wet wipes. Fortunately, my vomiting lasted for just a moment, and there was not a chain reaction of car sick gringos. At our bathroom break fuel stop, Sam gave me his position in the Dart, and I road the rest of the way home in comparative comfort. It was a long drive home, but there was a bit of excitement because the police had a road block up. John explained to the officer, holding his M-16 rifle, who we were and where we were headed. We passed through and made it home just before 1:00 a.m.
It was a wonderful day - full of beautiful sights, excellent company and good cheer.
¡Mexico! Part 1: Ruth Ann Matthews
Fifteen travelers from Douglass Boulevard Christian Church arrived at Casa Hogar in San Luis Potosi Mexico on Tuesday July 17th. There are 13 folks in the group who have been here on past mission trips and a couple of new people this time. All of us arrived safely and with great anticipation about the experiences the coming week will bring.
For those of you who do not know about Casa Hogar...... it is a children’s home that has been operational for almost 40 years and is currently run by a wonderful couple, who themselves grew up at the home. Depending on the circumstances, between 25 and 35 children, ages 4 to 17 , boys and girls live here. To the outside observer (of which I am one), this is a very loving, well organized, and extremely happy family.
The children are one of the reasons I made this trip again. They are some of the most extraordinary children I have ever met. As noted above they are extremely loving. They are always willing to give hugs, play games, and laugh at my poor pronunciation and lack of of the Spanish language. They are so happy to see us again, hanging out in our rooms, helping with chores, curious about what activities we are planning, wanting to know if they are included.
I was here last year and recognized some of the children and was delighted that some of them also recognized me. They called me “the chocolate americana” - I always had peanut M&Ms to share. So although I thought maybe they remembered me for my unique personality, I fear it was probably the candy. I am rooming with Mary and Christina. They were nice enough to let me have the bed (I am the oldest), while they are sleeping on mattresses on the floor.
The first day we were here, we made the obligatory trip to Walmart. Pillows were one of the items on the top of my list, along with snacks and drinks. Of course, there will be several more Walmart runs before the end of our visit.
This morning, chores were divvied up among three teams, electrical, plumbing, and general decorating. There were plans to update the wiring in the girls dormitory, insure all toilets were working, and install new shower heads. Trying to provide some warm water for showers would also be greatly appreciated. The general decorating team - of which I am a member - is putting up shower curtains in the bathrooms, and window curtains in about 4 dormitory rooms and the living room. Perhaps some painting is on the horizon as well.
This evening we went to the fabric store to purchase material to make some new curtains - after insuring that the sewing machine worked. I provided measurements in inches and feet, only to find out that the material was measured and priced in meters. It’s a good thing Selene was with me to interpret and to laugh.
At this time, most everyone is already in bed. It takes a little while for all the girls to settle down. I can hear faint conversations from one end of the hall to the other. If our light is on, that is an open invitation for little visitors . The group from Louisville at least the women anyway, never seem to have any trouble falling asleep once we get settled in.
So now we are at the end of day 2, with an excursion planned tomorrow to visit a neighboring city. Yes I am glad I am here. I chose to disconnect from all electronic devices. So having no newspaper, email, internet, TV, or cell phone usage enables me to be present in the moment all the time ( Just so you know - I am typing this blog entry on someone else’s computer and they will be posting it to the Internet). What a change from my normal life .... where cell phone calls, and emails begging to be read and answered is always the norm .... Where people worry about countless activities and plans every minute of every day. I’ve got a million things waiting to be done myself ----get an estimate on a new roof, schedule a haircut, and schedule maintenance service for my car,etc. But not now.....What a nice change of pace not to be bothered with all of that for just a little while. And if truth be told, it is nice to know it will all be waiting for me when I return home. But for now, for tomorrow and the next 6 days, I will disconnect from all of that, and I will be here. And all things considered, it’s a great place to be.
Hola from Mexico!
Hello from Mexico! We have been incredibly busy for our first 2 days at Casa Hogar, but our blog updates and stories will be coming soon! Keep posted on Facebook, Twitter, and right here on our blog to hear all about our experiences as they happen.
What We Need (Mark 6:1-13)
Rev. Penwell's Sermon for July 7, 2012
Fascinating, isn’t it? The one place you’d figure Jesus would shine. He goes to his high school reunion. He’s visiting all the old spots, getting reacquainted with old friends. Everything seems to be going along swimmingly—until Jesus shows up in church. That’s where things start getting a little sticky, don’t they?
Jesus begins teaching, and all of a sudden people are starting to murmur, “You know, that kid was always kind of a know-it-all.” Never one to be put off by a little griping, Jesus keeps talking and performing signs.
The text says finally, “And they took offense at him.” So much so, that he couldn’t do much with them. Just a few healings. What about the home field advantage, right?
Then, Mark makes an interesting shift in the narrative to Jesus’ disciples. After having alienated just about everyone from the old neighborhood, Jesus takes the twelve aside and commissions them to go out and follow his lead.
Mark intentionally links Jesus’ rejection at Nazareth to the sending out of the twelve, as if to say, “If you follow Jesus, this is what you’ve got to look forward to.”
From this text it’s possible to get a glimpse into Jesus’ modus operandi: He had an uncanny knack for making people mad. And if Jesus’ instructions to the twelve in the second part of our text is right, his followers can count on sometimes making people mad.
Whatever it was—his style, his tone of voice, his overbearing commitment to justice—it’s important to point out that, when you get right down to it, Jesus pushed more people away than he ever won over.
I preach for a living. Now, that’s a tough gig, because way down deep in the stack is the realization that much of what I’m trying to do is to move people to live differently, to be different people, to love different things—God-shaped things. And everybody knows that if you’re trying to persuade people, then part of what you want to do is avoid making them mad.
Alienation is not among the tips and tricks they teach you in seminary.
So, the temptation of preaching is: Take whatever it is that God is saying in the text and make it easy to chew. Soften it up. Pre- digest it if necessary.
And if you do this very long, you start to notice, “You know, some people are really good at this. They’re able to make the Bible—a tough and prickly book by any measure—velvety smooth going down.
Look at Joel Osteen—that man is a genius! He can take the otherwise difficult demands of the Gospel and make them sound like things anyone could do with just the odd tweak here or there. That takes talent: Making an executed criminal sound like a your great-uncle Frank whose biggest mark on the world (as far as you knew) was to take in stray dogs and walk around handing out peppermints to kids—who always had a kind word and a pat on the head.
Tough work, making the radically disruptive Jesus pleasant.
Preaching often feels like it should be like that—like we should give God a good scrubbing up, make God more presentable.
Of course, what that doesn’t take into consideration is the fact that even Jesus wasn’t able to do that. In fact, Jesus didn’t even try. It’s instructive to remember that Jesus was crucified precisely because he often didn’t much care about saying things in ways that people generally found acceptable.
I mean, look at stories like this one. Jesus, it appears, was willing to suffer rejection; he was quite content to be misunderstood. Jesus preached away more people than he won. But that picture of Jesus makes us a bit uneasy.
The popular modern picture of Jesus as an ancient Near-Eastern Mr. Rogers, however, doesn’t square with the sometimes abrupt character we find roaming around in the Gospels.
Think about the parables. Nice little stories, right? Little morality tales, Jewish approximations of Aesop’s Fables, right? This and this leads to this, so mind your manners, wash your hands after
you go to the bathroom, and never try to eat someone else’s grapes. Simple, right?
The problem is that when Jesus told parables, people (even the ones closest to him) usually walked away scratching their heads. “What did he just say? The wicked servant gets blessed, despite his wickedness? The people who show up late get paid the same amount as the ones who worked all day? What does that even mean?”
The only thing we’re left to conclude is that Jesus must have been using parables for some purpose other than to ensure that everyone got his point. He was willing to be misunderstood, rejected because the point he was making wasn’t dependent for its validity on the crowd’s acceptance.
Now, of course, the other temptation in preaching a sermon on a text like this is to point your finger, breathe fire—shake the dust from your feet if people don’t respond. This is a tough one, because there’s great comfort in feeling like you occupy the moral high ground. Preachers often prefer to stand up there; it’s easier to look down from up on high.
Moral certainty, however, can be just as dangerous as theological squeamishness, because as brother Paul (as morally certain and self-righteous as the best of them) is quick to remind us that, at least at present, we all “see through a glass darkly.”
No. Self-righteousness is as big a temptation as sanding off the rough edges.
But maybe what Mark intends for his readers to understand is that, no matter how you slice it, this following Jesus is difficult. If you’re true to the gospel, then not everybody’s going to like what you have to say. Perhaps the point is in trying to negotiate the troubled middle . . . between making Jesus so inoffensive that he starts looking like a character on Nickelodeon and identifying with him so closely that you start being insufferable in the way that ordinarily makes you cringe when you see it in others.
But here’s the thing: Following Jesus doesn’t come with a nice neat set of instructions that take all the guesswork out of it. It’s hard. It’s terrifying and confusing—like German. It’s certainly not user-friendly. It doesn’t concern itself overmuch with meeting people’s “felt needs.”
Following Jesus is about heading down dark alleys . . . because that’s where you thought you saw him go.
I was reading not long ago about a church in Eustis, Florida that offers a sort of worship “lite.” They changed the sign in front of the church to read: Express Worship, 45 Minutes, Guaranteed!
It seems that people were skipping out on church because they thought the service was too long. Consequently, the minister, seeking to meet as many needs as possible, started hacking away at the order of worship until he got it down to a manageable time frame.
Members of the Family Bible Church apparently love it. “You don’t feel like you’re spending all day in church,” says Joy Easton, a regular worshiper.
Another regular, Ernie Quinton, concurs: “Some people don’t want to spend an hour, an hour and a half in church.”
The minister, Allen Speegle, says, “So many people are in a time crunch, but they don’t want to leave the Lord out.”
That makes sense, doesn’t it? You love Jesus, you just hate for him to goof up your weekend. And so the church responds by adapting itself to meet people’s felt needs.
But what if the church were to serve people, not as a market transaction, but because the church comprises the people of God?
What if the choir works hard on their anthem, not just because they hope you’ll like it and be inspired by it, but because they know that they’re doing work God has called them to do, and in the process they stand as a sign, a signal, a foretaste, a beachhead of God’s reign in the world?
What if I’m preaching this sermon, not because I think it’s uppermost on your list of weekly wants, or because I need to have a captive audience for 20 minutes every week to meet my capacious ego needs, but instead because I believe this is what God wants? What we get out of what’s done here shouldn’t be as big a concern to us as fidelity to the peculiar nature of the new world God’s busy creating through our commitment to gathering together.
What’s the greatest service the church can render the world?
Perhaps the greatest service we render isn’t meeting people’s felt needs, but helping them to understand what their truest needs are in light of Jesus of Nazareth. Perhaps the real mission of the church is to help me redefine my needs, identifying needs I’d never have known, if I’d just stayed home and watched Dancing with the Stars.
Of course, the church seeks to meet people’s needs. But one of the most pressing needs people have is to see a vision of the world the way God envisions the world—a world in which sick people, and poor people, and hungry people, and disabled people,
and immigrants, and LGBTQ people, not only have a seat around God’s table . . . but have been made the guests of honor.
We ought to spend more energy worrying about how the church ought to form its community and its members as “concrete embodiments of the gospel, such that it . . . continues to offer a profound, perhaps even radical, alternative to the dominant structures and institutions of the day.”
We shouldn’t be overconfident in our ability to determine for ourselves what we really need. People, prone as we are to self- deception, can often talk ourselves into just about anything. We thought, for example, that it was ultimately better for us that our needs would finally be met if Jesus weren’t around. So we nailed him to a cross.
We come to church for such a variety of reasons—needs we have that we seek to have met. Some of them are truly urgent; some are self-serving. We come in search of a friendly face; we come seeking confirmation of our preconceptions; we come wanting to find help with our problems; we come yearning for fellowship. Sometimes we even come casting about for a glimpse of the face of God.
It’s a mixed bag, really.
But many of you can testify that, thank God, church often turns out to be more interesting than we could have expected.
In worship, in the life of the church, in participating in ministry God tends to take our reasons and form them, to redirect our desires, to give us more than we would have known how to ask for.
In the reading and preaching of the story of the people of God, our preconceptions get challenged and changed. What we thought were our problems often turned out to be trivial and we’re given problems we could have avoided if we hadn’t met Jesus. We come seeking fellowship and we’re astounded to receive friendship with God.
I don’t think there’s any question that somebody left church that day dissatisfied, unnerved, annoyed. They heard Jesus and said on the ride home, “I’m sorry, but that new preacher just didn’t do a thing for me.”
Some—a few, definitely not everyone—realized that Jesus was about more than meeting what we thought were our needs; his primary purpose was to give us what we really need.
And in retrospect, looking back through the prism of the cross, all that’s left to say is, “Thanks be to God. Thanks be to God.”
-Amen.
