During my first week on Sabbatical, in addition to getting settled at the Fuller Guest House and enjoying Southern California, I had the opportunity to sit down for ministry-related conversations with two people. The first was my good friend Matthew Krabill. I knew Matthew from our days at Eastern Mennonite University, and then we both found our way to Fuller. Matt is currently working on his Ph.D studying immigrant congregations in Los Angeles. The second was my boss/mentor when I worked at the Center for Anabaptist Leadership, Jeff Wright. Jeff, in my opinion, is hands down the best urban Anabptist missiologist around. Jeff is now the pastor at Madison Street Church, a Brethren in Christ church in Riverside, CA.
Among other things, I asked both of them a very simple question related to the churches and ministries they are in connection with: "What's working?"
When I asked Matthew this question, he told a story from Wholicare Community Church, a congregation made up of Congolese immigrants affiliated with the Pacific Southwest Mennonite Conference where Matthew is a member. Wholicare is a Congolese congregation, but recently a Latino man began attending. The reason he started to attend is because he worked the night shift with a member from Wholicare and they ride the bus home together. When they get off the bus together in Pasadena, the Wholicare member then often helps this man find a ride the rest of the way home. After working all night Saturday night, the bus drops them off soon before Wholicare's church service begins. The Wholicare member goes straight from the bus to church. So soon enough the Latino man started going along to Wholicare, partly because it was something to do while waiting for his ride the rest of the way home.
This isn't an example of a church-growth strategy. It's not an official program of the congregation. It's simply a point of intersection between a person from the congregation and a fellow employee/bus mate. And more than that, it's the awareness to not just remain in one's individual silo while riding the bus, but to make a connection, strike up a conversation, and make an invitation.
When I asked Jeff the question, "what's working?" being a strategic-thinking urban missiologist, he began to talk about flexible congregational structures and empowering lay leadership. One of Jeff's mantras is "We invest in people, not programs." He then told a story of city worker/beach-bum-at-heart member of the congregation who has a passion for biking. This member always saw his passion for biking as separate from both his job and his faith. But Jeff began to encourage to ask how he could use his passion for biking on behalf of God's Kingdom at Madison Street Church. Out of this grew the idea to hold a bike clinic/workshop. So one Saturday in Riverside, this member with others from the congregation offered free bike repairs and instruction for anyone from the community that came to the event. They have held more of these events, and through this the congregation has gained a reputation as the church that cares about their community.
Two things strike me about these stories. First, both have a theology of place (even if not explicitly articulated as such). Having a theology of place is the understanding that God is at work in the places that they live, work, commute, and recreate. Not only in a spiritual, big-picture sort of way, but the understanding that God is at work in the particulars of our place. And then given that God is at work in our place, God calls us to join in God's redemptive work in those places.
Second, both are examples of the gift economy at work. Both started by giving something. In the example from Wholicare, it was a ride. In the example from Madison Street Church, it was free bike repair and instruction. It's easy to get caught up in the mindset of consumerism where it's all about getting. But the Kingdom of God operates on the economy of giving.
So what's working? Bottom line from these first two congregations: faithful men and women with eyes and ears and imaginations open to the work of God in the places they live joining in the work of God through small acts of generosity. Lot's to think about in both those stories.
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Monday, January 7, 2008
A Culture of Remembering
I'm back from Christmas and New Years break. Emiley and I had the opportunity to be with her family in Southern Indiana over Christmas. It was a good time to reconnect, share laughs, good food, and memories (hence the topic of this post).
I've been attending Christmas with Emiley's family for 6 years now, and every year there is the same ritual. Christmas eve is held at her Grandparents, and before gifts are opened, the Christmas story is read and every one goes around to share thanksgiving, a significant event from the last year, or whatever comes to mind. On Christmas morning with just Emiley's immediate family, we essentially do the same thing.
In years past I always felt awkward during this; like I was in a discussion that I really should not be a part of. The family would share such deep stories of meaningful memories and gratitude for their life together with such intimacy that I felt like a voyager. In the past, when it was my turn, I said some general mumblings just to more on to the next person.
But this year I didn't. This year I offered the family reflections on how I've come to appreciate their tradition. I said that they are a family that remembers well - not just during Christmas, but in fact all the time in almost every conversation someone will launch off on an epic story which makes the ordinary moments of life seem spectacular. I shared how one of the main mandates of the Old Testament is to remember to Lord your God who brought you out of slavery in Egypt. This call echoes throughout Moses' teachings in the Pentateuch. Later, the prophets challenge the people to remember when they turn their backs on God and neighbor. And in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, initiated during the Passover, we are called to remember the many ways God has reached out to reconcile the people of God - ultimately expressed in the incarnation or God made Flesh.
There are a lot of books these days written about how the church in a post-modern, post-Christendom context needs to embrace the practice of sharing stories in how we do mission because people today relate more to personal story (testimony?) than they do grand meta-narratives about how the world works or who God is. It's a good concept and a vital practice for the church to embrace. But sometimes I have to sit back and laugh about how story is all the rage these days and is supposedly cutting edge in how we create and sustain communities. I laugh because here's a traditional family in rural Indiana, farmers, people of the land, not highly educated, and suspicious of change who doesn't need the next new pastor/rock star, book, conference, or seminary education to tell them that sharing our stories is integral part of our faith. They don't even do it (consciously) because of the biblical mandate. They do it because they understand family and community to be a vital part of one's formation.
To busy, fast-paced, technology-embracing urbanites like myself we may look at them as out of touch, resistant to change and creativity, and stuck in their ways. And to be sure their big family in a small town needs to be challenged by mission so that they do not become insular and their stories not exclusive. But it's also a family that by its non-conformity to the world around them never lost or forgot the simple truth that stories mean something, and remembering one's story of faith, family, and context is a precious pearl which is too often lost in our transient, globalized world.
By remembering so well in such a natural way, they remind me to not just talk about stories, but live into them, embrace them, share them, and never forget them.
I've been attending Christmas with Emiley's family for 6 years now, and every year there is the same ritual. Christmas eve is held at her Grandparents, and before gifts are opened, the Christmas story is read and every one goes around to share thanksgiving, a significant event from the last year, or whatever comes to mind. On Christmas morning with just Emiley's immediate family, we essentially do the same thing.
In years past I always felt awkward during this; like I was in a discussion that I really should not be a part of. The family would share such deep stories of meaningful memories and gratitude for their life together with such intimacy that I felt like a voyager. In the past, when it was my turn, I said some general mumblings just to more on to the next person.
But this year I didn't. This year I offered the family reflections on how I've come to appreciate their tradition. I said that they are a family that remembers well - not just during Christmas, but in fact all the time in almost every conversation someone will launch off on an epic story which makes the ordinary moments of life seem spectacular. I shared how one of the main mandates of the Old Testament is to remember to Lord your God who brought you out of slavery in Egypt. This call echoes throughout Moses' teachings in the Pentateuch. Later, the prophets challenge the people to remember when they turn their backs on God and neighbor. And in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, initiated during the Passover, we are called to remember the many ways God has reached out to reconcile the people of God - ultimately expressed in the incarnation or God made Flesh.
There are a lot of books these days written about how the church in a post-modern, post-Christendom context needs to embrace the practice of sharing stories in how we do mission because people today relate more to personal story (testimony?) than they do grand meta-narratives about how the world works or who God is. It's a good concept and a vital practice for the church to embrace. But sometimes I have to sit back and laugh about how story is all the rage these days and is supposedly cutting edge in how we create and sustain communities. I laugh because here's a traditional family in rural Indiana, farmers, people of the land, not highly educated, and suspicious of change who doesn't need the next new pastor/rock star, book, conference, or seminary education to tell them that sharing our stories is integral part of our faith. They don't even do it (consciously) because of the biblical mandate. They do it because they understand family and community to be a vital part of one's formation.
To busy, fast-paced, technology-embracing urbanites like myself we may look at them as out of touch, resistant to change and creativity, and stuck in their ways. And to be sure their big family in a small town needs to be challenged by mission so that they do not become insular and their stories not exclusive. But it's also a family that by its non-conformity to the world around them never lost or forgot the simple truth that stories mean something, and remembering one's story of faith, family, and context is a precious pearl which is too often lost in our transient, globalized world.
By remembering so well in such a natural way, they remind me to not just talk about stories, but live into them, embrace them, share them, and never forget them.
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