A Church for Starving Artists

Manhattan is the home of Redeemer Presbyterian Church where Tim Keller preaches stirring sermons to thousands each week.  The New York Times positively featured Keller and Redeemer in 2006, and – most excellently – Redeemer has helped plant at least 17 other churches.  One of those churches was featured last week in The NYT  here.  Sounds very cool.

But here’s the rub:  these congregations are all members of the Presbyterian Church in America – a group of Reformed Christians who broke off of the mainline Presbyterian Church (what is now the PCUSA) over the issue of the ordination of women and other theological matters. 

This is a church that not only does not ordain women, but when a woman was “accidently” ordained to the office of deacon at Redeemer in May 2009, assorted apologies and explanations were quickly made.  Read in this blog post about The Accidental Ordination. Keller explains here that he believes that the deacons mentioned in scripture were actually the wives of male deacons. 

So here’s my basic question:  Who are these women streaming into these PCA congregations?  From all accounts, the women of Redeemer PCA and those skinny jeans-wearers over at Resurrection in Brooklyn are smart, sophisticated, strong women.  Why would they join a church that does not give them the authority to use the gifts God gave them?  They can sing in the choir, serve as ushers, and volunteer in the mailroom or kitchen.  But they cannot preach, teach men, or be ordained to the offices of elder or deacon.  Why would 21st Century women in The Big City tolerate this?  Why would any women?

I understand that many women and men do not believe that the Bible supports the leadership of women.  But, from what I understand, many of those who participate in Redeemer are not theologically conservative.  They simply like the preaching, the music, the community.

I have a friend who served as an elder in her Presbyterian (PCUSA) church, but when she moved to a new city, she joined a Presbyterian (PCA) church.  She was so gifted in ministry, so wise, and when I asked her why she’d joined a church that wouldn’t allow her to serve as she’d served before, she said she just “loved the worship.” 

A friend who became Greek Orthodox after serving in several offices in the Presbyterian (PCUSA) church of her youth said “it was a relief” not to be able to serve anymore.  She wouldn’t be called on to be a leader and that was fine with her.  She was tired.  No longer did she have to attend meetings and make decisions.  All she had to do was bake an occasional batch of cookies or volunteer at the Greek Festival.

I wonder about the women of those growing congregations in NYC.  Maybe they are just tired and it’s a relief not to have to serve as a leader with any spiritual authority.  Or maybe they just like the worship and don’t want to think about what it means to belong to a community that doesn’t recognize her gifts.

I’m coming off a long five days of conferences and gatherings and so I’ll make it short and sweet:

Read this book.

Paul Nixon is a United Methodist pastor who sums it all up here. What if all of us in professional ministry refused to lead dying congregations?  If God gives us gifts for apostolic leadership, why would we waste those gifts on ministry that doesn’t give God our best? 

A note to tired pastors:  there will also be a need for palliative care in congregations that are indeed dying and if your gifts are hand-holding and  marrying, burying, baptizing, and preaching comforting sermons, there are parishes that will need this leadership too.  But keep in mind that you are tending to the dying.  Let them go.

And the next question is:  how do you know your church is dying? 

It’s not about size.  I’ve worshipped recently with a congregation of less than 100 that is clearly alive, bold, and community-focussed.  And I’ve worshipped with  large congregations that haven’t done anything bold in decades.  Their building is a fortress.  Their ministry is drudgery.  A church is dying when there is no evidence of an urgent sense of discipleship.  Paul Nixon explains it well. 

So, read this book and let’s get moving.

In the shuttle on the way to the conference I’m attending this week:

Guy headed to Lockheed Martin Conference:  So, are you in town for a conference?

Me:  Yes, outside Fort Worth.  It’s a church conference about minitry to refugees.

GHTLMC:  You mean those illegals who want to take over our country?

There is a lot of misunderstanding about refugees.  Yes, they are immigrants, but no, there are not illegal and they are fleeing their homeland.  The man I had dinner with last night cannot return to Iraq where he was once Moderator of the Presbyterian Church because people want to kill him.  

Even Jesus was a refugee if you remember.

These are people who have fled because of race, religion, nationality, or participation in a particular social or political group.  There are throngs of them in the world today, and if you are like me, when you see crowds of wandering people, you see problems.  You don’t have to be an MBTI introvert to avoid them. 

I’m reminded at this conference, that when Jesus saw crowds he felt compassion rather than annoyance or fear.  Jesus saw people not problems. 

Imagine if we were on the run from our own country, and after a long trip to a strange place, someone met us at the airport, took us to a furnished apartment with familiar native food ready to eat on the stove and helped us figure out how to catch the bus and get language lessons.  Imagine how much we would appreciate and love those people, how much we would appreciate that country that welcomed us generously.

This is the work of Jesus.  Check this out – even if all you can do is donate old towels.  But we can probably do more.

I remember a church that applied for a grant to tranform their congregation.  They wanted $10,000 for a new church sign.  If only they had a new sign people would come . . .

On this Reformation Day, we might believe that Reformation involves incorporating a screen in worship or lighting candles or beating drums.  But what really transforms a congregation is a change of heart, a change of perspective.  Maybe we once worried about Doing the Cool Thing or Doing the Media Thing or Doing the  New Thing.  But what really reforms and transforms a congregation involves changing our perspective, changing our paradigms, changing our priorities.

What if we shifted from the usual worries about the ABCs – Attendance, Building, and Cash.  And we focussed on the NOPs – The Neighborhood, Organization, and Paradigm Shift?  I’m seeing amazing Reformation.

Imagine you’ve been a pastor for twenty years.  And in those twenty years you’ve been intimately involved in dealing with:

• The motorcycle wreck death of a 20 year old you taught in confirmation class
• The stillborn birth of a couple’s long-wanted child
• The suicide of a middle aged deacon
• The institutionalization of a young adult after he attacked his sister
• The court martial of a young man in the Marines
• Numerous cancer protocols, unsuccessful fertility treatments, and heart bypass surgeries

You get the picture.  Although the examples above are not necessarily from my own experience, they are familiar experiences for most pastors. 

During a CPE (chaplaincy training) residency fresh out of seminary I did 23 baby funerals in one month.  It convinced me to go into parish ministry where people would call me when healthy babies were born. 

Ministry can be traumatizing.  I’ve known pastors who reached their limit with one final, excruciating horror:  the kidnapping of a child of the church, the sudden death of a two year old,  the car accident that wiped out a family.  It’s not something we talk about in seminary:  how to handle pastoral care for a lifetime of trauma shared with people we love.  We minister alongside them.  We learn their most intimate hopes and fears in pre-marital counseling.  We baptize them and their children.  We bury their parents and spouses and children.  We love them, and when they face a tragedy, it’s as if it’s happening to us.  Yes, I know all about self-differentiation.  But sometimes tragedy impacts us.  Or clobbers us.

We are not the only ones with this responsibility to care for the traumatized.  And there are those who are standing by to help us with our own trauma.

It’s an enormous privilege to share painful experiences with people, just as it’s a privilege to share the joyous times.  But as pastoral care is increasingly shared with trained elders and deacons – as it should be – we professional clergy are finally blessed with others who help take some of the weight off our shoulders and share the pastoral caregiving.  The best pastors are not threatened by sharing pastoral care with other church leaders.  In fact, it’s our job to teach others how to care for the traumatized.  It’s part of our self-care too.

Worship space matters. 

While I can make a case that 1) God can and should be worshipped in all places and spaces, and 2) God is more impressed by holiness than flying buttresses, I personally find certain spaces to be more conducive to worship than others.  It doesn’t have to look like this.  It could also look like this or this or this.  Space feels worshipful if community is gathered and nourished there.  A sanctuary could be gloriously constructed.  But if there is no community, the church might as well close.  It’s no longer really a church anyway.

As church buildings that look like this and this are swiftly closing, my prediction is that the proceeds from selling their real estate will never again be used to buy space that looks traditionally churchy.  I especially feel for the struggling congregations that built mega-buildings only to find that they don’t now or didn’t ever really need that space; they just wanted to be like the megachurch down the street. 

The space where we worship is one of the new frontiers for faith communities in the 21st Century – especially for the formerly mainline church.  As we close the church with the traditional building on the corner, I’m hoping we are wise enough to start up the new church in the bar or the diner or the art gallery down the street.

Honestly I’m too tired to be creative tonight and so I’ll just sit and stare at something beautiful.  That’s the best I can do tonight.  Have a good Wednesday.

The majority of pastors are either overweight or obese, according to a 2001 Pulpit and Pew study at Duke Divinity School.  

(Ten years later, I wonder if we are even heavier.)

This factoid from Pulpit and Pew was recently shared at a church event during which we were served mega muffins for breakfast, chips & cookies with our sandwiches for lunch, and candy bars  for mid-afternoon snacks.  What’s wrong with this picture?

The general population is overweight in the United States.  But according to a 2010 Centers for Disease Control study, only (only?) 37% of Americans are obese and these numbers have held true for about five years for men and ten years for women.  In other words, if we believe these studies, clergy are heavier than the average American.  We are also more depressed and susceptible to heart disease apparently.  But today’s post is about donuts and cupcakes.

“If you feed them, they will come.”  We chuckle over this  adage at church meetings as we sample the lemon squares at coffee hour.  Church food tends to be heavy in the carb department and about as healthy as Lucky Charms.

But it may be harder to change the church food culture than the order of worship in our traditional congregations.  After all, no church has “salad committee.”  We continue to offer consecrated casseroles – delicious lasagna and macaroni and cheese-  to the sick.  The New York Times reported in 2005 that Radiant Church in Arizona spends $16,000 on Krispy Kreme donuts every year.

This post is not meant to make those of us who need to lose weight feel terrible about ourselves. The point is to ask how we might encourage congregations and their pastors to be healthier. 

Strawberries after worship anyone?  Better ideas?