Rob Bell and the Art of Sneaking Out the Back Door

Who knows how many church services I have endured. As a preacher's kid for most of my childhood, I am sure the number is staggering. Wednesday nights, Sunday school, Sunday nights, Sunday mornings (which always cut into the Bears game), Easter "Sunrise Services" (coupled with fake eggs and stiff pancakes), New Years Eve "Watch Nights" (I have no clue what we were watching), quarterly Potluck meals in the basement with weird food made by weirder people and their leftovers, and week-long summer Bible camps with multiple meetings every day---in other words, a butt-load of time spent in strange gatherings with strange language and strangers.

When you're the pastor's son, you cannot really declare your disinterest and leave in the middle of the sermon. I am 33 now, though, and I have developed quite the knack for early departures in my old age. Lately, it's been after what people call "Worship." I have a serious case of sick-of-three-songs-a-sermon-and-an-offering-itis. A nasty syndrome. Contagious? I hope so.

My disease started a year ago or more, which is remarkable considering I took a ten year hiatus from church attendance through most of my twenties. Where did I catch it? I am tempted to say, "The Bible," but who knows?

I know I am not the only one tired of the formulaic posturing we go through on Sundays. What is the point of it? The show must go on.

Rob Bell's latest, Jesus Wants to Save Christians (A Manifesto for the Church in Exile), gets to the root of this, I think. He writes, "When the goal of a church is to get people into church services and then teach them how to invite people to come to church services, so that they in turn will bring others to more church services - that's attendance at church services" (p. 160). It's like "Feed me, Seymour!" We have cultivated a giant plant which requires food--but does nothing other than sit there with its mouth open. It devours more and more resources while distracting us from the real world. Horror, indeed.

So, I've been leaving early or not going at all. I do hang with the teenagers because you can at least be real with them. I have no idea what to do. "Church hopping" will most likely be futile and lead to greater levels of frustration. The people (some of whom are church staff) I confess my sickness to offer little hope. I know others around my same age who share at least most of my outlook. We commiserate: "Where is the connection? Where is the outward focus? What are we doing here? What's the 'big picture?'"

Bell goes on, "If our church was taken away - from our city, our neighborhood, our region - who would protest?" (p. 166). Would I? My belief in God is still bigger than my discontent, thankfully; although I am not sure that is as comforting as it should be.

My options?
1. Suck it up
2. Quit going
3. Complain to pastor
4. Start my own "thing" (scary)
5. Go Catholic (way more scary)

Maybe I have logged enough hours in a pew/church chair to last me the rest of my life. (Knew I should have kept those receipts. Dang.)

There is one last quotation from the book I am banking on. "Jesus wants to save our church from the exile of irrelevance" (p. 174). I want that. I'd be willing to be part of that effort. Where do I sign up? I loathe people that bitch and moan without being willing to pitch in. Put me in, coach. You'll find me at the back of the church---one foot out the door but really wanting to get drawn in again.

Tweeners etc.

Part of the solution for Churches to engage Tweeners and young adults is to understand their family situations and how it affects our teaching and outreach paradigms. Over one million kids experience their parents' divorce each year. In addition, the fatherless statistics in the U.S. are staggering. Because of how many grow up without a dad---pastors and youth workers need to understand that this emerging generation is not only unfamiliar with traditional Bible stories, but also that, when hearing Jesus' parables and other teaching, younger people will often interpret them differently than older adults. Author Elizabeth Marquardt found that young adults with divorced parents, when hearing the Parable of The Prodigal Son, for example, identified much more closely with the Father character than with the Son who left. For these teens and twenty-somethings, the anxiousness and stress from waiting for someone to come back home resonated much more deeply. Teachers at all levels within the Church need to exhibit a constant and sensitive awareness towards their audience along these lines.

Besides embracing a new sensitivity and awareness when teaching from the Bible, the next step for engaging this emerging generation is to conduct outreach opportunities that create safe places for young people to process their feelings and explore their faith--without fear of judgment. We must listen, notice, and inquire while resisting the urge to condemn. Their questions must be safe with us. It is ours to be brave enough to ask tough, open-ended questions. We can validate their reality without necessarily approving of it. This a key component of compassion. People feel welcome when they feel heard and valued. By deliberately offering these opportunities, Churches will reclaim their role as places of refuge where everyone, in authentic community, can confess and confront in a truly healthy environment.

At the same time, those of us within the Church need to confess and confront our outdated paradigms because so many young adults and teens are missing out on the connections that we use to take for granted. It is our responsibility and privilege to offer hope in new ways not only from the pages of the Bible but also in the way we conduct our meetings and ministries. We have to realize that this generation resonates with Bible stories and characters differently than previously assumed, and we have to alter our presentation accordingly. We must go out of our way to offer emotional 'safe zones' for people to connect with one another--and, in part, re-create the family that is painfully missing. These are our brothers and sisters in Christ, and, for the older adults among us: these are your Spiritual children, too. We cannot abandon them nor abdicate our responsibility in caring for them. They have already faced too much of that at home and in school. Our churches must become places of real connection. Our teaching must connect with its young audience through an ever-evolving awareness and sensitivity to the issues our young people are facing. We cannot afford to take comprehension or connection for granted anymore.

Asking Better Questions

Ministering to teenaged children of divorce, Part I

By Benjamin Wilcox

"Whatever.”

“Nothing.”

“Fine.”

These are the dreaded one-word responses I had been getting from the students in Oasis:
our church’s divorce recovery group for teenagers. It is my own fault really. Ask
anything that can be answered with one word, and the average teen will give you one
word in response.
I have heard similar frustration echoed from so many volunteer leaders wondering how to
engage Middle School and High School kids in meaningful conversation. Part of the
answer is in the question itself. Ask something that cannot be answered in just one word.
Questions like,
“If you could be any superhero, who would you be and why?”
“What was the best part of your week, and what was the worst part of your week?”
“If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be and who would you want there
with you?”

Secondly, when talking with teens, suspend your judgments as long as possible. Nothing
will ruin your chances of connecting with a young adult faster than rushing to a
conclusion about what they are saying and then offering advice right away. Keep quiet.
Actively listen. Ask for clarification, and then maybe ask a follow-up question. When you
start to think you know what they are getting at, ask another question!

Third, here is a sample of the common questions we tend to ask when thinking about
ministering to teens followed by a list of alternative things to consider.

“How do we keep these kids entertained?” vs. “What am I willing to do to ensure that the teens who come feel truly understood and valued as individuals?”
“How do we make sure we make it through all the curriculum each night?” vs. “Does the curriculum we use encourage the
kind of risky, open-ended questions that lead to honest revelation, or is there only one right answer to what we ask (just like a
classroom)?”
“How do we make sure our teens keep coming back and invite their friends, too?” vs. “Is the environment in which we hold our
meetings inviting, welcoming, and emotionally & physically safe?"
“How do I make these teenagers like me?” vs. “Will I trust the Holy Spirit enough to be myself and let these student know that I
take them seriously, withhold my judgments, and appreciate their reality?”

When you begin to focus on asking better questions, first of yourself, then of your
ministry approach, and finally, of your students—all the natural worries in the left-hand
column take care of themselves. Why? Because you have put you energy into creating a
safe place for hurting teenagers to let their guard down. You will become, quite possibly,
the only adult in their life who is willing to sit down with them, actively listen to them,
and “be” with them for as long as it takes for them to know that you care enough to ask
better questions—questions that convey your compassion not your condemnation & your
openness not your opinion. Another question is always better than another piece of
advice.
The only one-word answer you want from a teenager is when you ask them what part of
the week they most look forward to. I hope they say it’s the couple of hours when you
invite students recovering from divorce into a safe place they can call their own. If not,
maybe it is time to ask better questions.


© 2007 by the Author
Email him at Ben@MinistryMakeovers.com

A new church service order?

Instead of having very distinct times for songs, then a sermon, then a closing song and prayer---could we mix it all up to help people experience God in a different, maybe more personal, way??? Do things have to be portioned so much?

For example, could a song be playing with some images (or icons) on the screen when the pastor (or whomever) reads a few Scriptures? Then, there would be time for people to meditate on those Scriptures & perhaps journal some thoughts on the back of the bulletin. At a cetain points, we could still sing corporately. A few discussion questions could come up on the sidescreens for people to either write about or talk with a few people about. Then, the pastor/facilitator could giude the discussion a little. Show a video? Another song? Take communion? More quiet time . . . I think providing space for quiet reflection should be a staple of any church service. Can we ever get too much of that in our life? Have a short role-play or drama? I do not understand the segmentation of everything every time.

I'm not advocating for disorder or to not have a certain text for the Service. I do think we can get into the text in different ways other than to hear thirty straight minutes of what someone else thinks about it. I think we can do a much better job of creating environments that allow people to hear from and experience God. We do not learn by only listening. We are changed by experiences. I honestly cannot usually remember what someone talked about last week or even--last night. I do remember the experiences I've had in church services where there was space for me to have one. We have all these gifts to wisely steward as we determine service order. Let's not settle for less than our best in helping people hear from, see, and get to know Christ. The elements of a church service should serve that end, not get in the way of it by regimenting and segmenting. Who are we to judge exactly how and when someone should experience God's presence or communicaiton?

I hear it all the time:
"In a room this size,
There must be this or that."

In a room this size,
Is the room enough for me?

In a room this size,
Can there really be

Room enough for those
whom often aren't seen?

In a room this size
What do expect to see?

Can we really ever know
what lies in hearts and minds?

In a room this size
How many is that?

Does it have to be hundreds?
How about just you and me?

In a room this size
do I feel safe or similar?

How do I know that there
are others just like me?

In a room this size
Will it be alright?

Can I find God
Who will shine the light?

In a room this size
Will I matter at all?

So many problems
How can I recall?

In a room this size
Will me get lost in we?

How can I know that
others hear or see?

In a room this size
Will my pain feel small?

I need someone
willing to call

In a room this size
where do I fit?

Lots of faces and chairs
None invite me to sit

In a room this size
Do I have a part to play?

I'm not sure where to turn
Not sure what to say

In a room this size
I somehow feel alone

Thousands of people
will someone hear my groan?

In a room this size
does that make it seem alright?

Perhaps my burden
should feel more light

In a room this size
Eyes pass over me

Lots of looks
so few really see

In a room this size
they expect me to fit

Is there a space
for me to find "it"

what I've been missing
since before I can recall

In a room this size
to whom do I call?

No one knows me
It feels like the mall

When I'm at wits end
with nothing to lose

I really need connection
not the latest news

I need to see real
not the flashing lights

Will you find a space for me
I can't find my way at night?

Will you giude me and love me
and slowly return my sight?

there's too much to miss
in a room this size

Too many stories
too many lies

I do not know the facts
about a room this size.

Maybe it's different
maybe we'll realize

that regardless of numbers
or the crowds that we see

People are hungry, broken
they need to be free.

In a room this size, is there room enough in me
to not turn away from the people I see?
could I offer my self in new scary ways?
Will we ever reach the deeper things
that anomynity betrays?

Can we make it feel small
though the numbers are many?
should we talk to them all
or simply use the excuse
that in a room this size
there isn't any use

Create space for them, vaue them
and see them as unique
We love them, notice them
and give them a seat

There's room in God's heart
for all that would seek
In a room this size
is there room enough in me?

does my heart ever get full
of people other than myself?
is it time to take some old beliefs
off of the shelf?

There's room for you
in my Father's house
sit here, listen, and hear from Him
i think he's saying that in a room this size,
i hope that you'll stay.

you are safe here; I love you
albeit hundreds, dozens, or three
in a room this size
you'll always find me

Reading . . . . . .Drinking . . . . . . Loving . . . . . Thinking . . . . . . Walking . . . . . . Nodding . . . . . . . Reading . . . .. . .

I am so heavy-hearted with my place at Willow Creek. I can barely sit through services there. I perceive so little difference between what is supposed to be a deeper level, "believer's" service on Wednesday nights and the weekend services which have historically been 'seeker sensitive.' Now that Scripture is read, songs are particpatory, and Bibles are opened on Sunday mornings, shouldn't there be a corresponding shift occurring on the Midweek format? In other words, if the weekends are responding to felt differences in the openness of people to more traditional means of worship and study, then musn't there be strides to enhance the experience of God on Wednesdays? Shouldn't there be some corresponding reaction? How can one change and the other remain static? I have the hardest time connecting with Christ during the hour or so allotted during either day of the week. I'm listless, bored, and tired of being offered merely more good advice in the form of yet another, multi-point, too-polished, impersonal, scripted, sermon that mostly just lets me know what someone I respect thinks about the Scriptures or some aspect of faith. I know that I'm at Willow for a reason. I am scared that that reason is to help transition us from mega to meta.
We have a growing Latino congregation that we relegate to the chapel for their services. My wife had a great idea: let's give them the new, fancy auditorium. Let's serve them instead of making them sit at the back of the bus. We've accommodated them poorly in my opinion.
I cannot put into words the torn feelings I have about where I am. I serve wholeheartedly because of my strong convictions about the mission of the Church. I love the relationships God has blessed me with through the on-campus activities of which I am a part. However, I feel like that is where the connectivity ends for me. The services are super-programed. The messages are just that: messages. There is little story, little space, and little prayer. I think we do a good job with the "Apostle's teaching" part of Acts 2:42 "They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.
I think that bringing in Frazee will help with the "fellowship" and "the breaking of bread" activities. Maybe that's part of it: all the activities. I'm missing the focus on prayer--in my daily life and on campus. So often, this may be due to my consideration of prayer as an activity when really it involves the opposite, doesn't it? Inactivity: how do we create that? "A house of prayer."
[Isa. 56:7; Matt. 21:13] Are we calling for it? Are we setting aside enough service time and space for this most-important, vital avenue to the Throne? Are we bold enough to be quiet enough? Why can't there be corporate silence? Corporate fasting? Where's the challenges that made me stick around four years ago?
There's a lot being written about the reclamation of the missional church and the Starbuck's model of creating experiences and the many reasons why young people find themselves disillusioned with institutionalized "church."
"An Hour on Sunday," unfortunately, has inhaled too many resources and failed to be the place where people genuinely encounter the presence of God, exhaling pretense, or express questions and doubts. It's the convincing hour, the presentation hour, the show. It's a great show, but show me Jesus. I'm glad that I get to see him on Mondays helping & loving kids. I am sad that I have trouble spotting him in the auditorium on Sundays and Wednesdays. Maybe there are too many people in the way--too many people out in front, drowning out his voice with microphones and his image with spotlights. The disciples tried to prevent the little ones from approaching the Savior. No time, they said. Too busy. The show must go on. Jesus disagreed--big time. Have we hindered folks from approaching the Son of God? Is there too much interference? Shouldn't a church service be the one place where there isn't? The curtain was torn, remember? Have we sewn it back together? Tear up the script and tear at my heart. Real is always relevant, as one wise man wrote recently.
Maybe fewer multi-sites and more Jesus sightings? What place have we given him in all our grand plans, models, and programming? Is there any room for him in there? I seem to recall he's been through this "There's no room" deal before . . .
I hope it isn't happening again.
I am going to stick around to find out.

Book review

I think every pastor and paid minister should read this . . .and church member, too.

The section on pastors 'getting over their call to preach' alone is enough to make this a must-read.

The paradigm that Roberts illustrates concerning the true nature of missions is amazing. While reading this book, I was confronted with so many uncomfortable truths about the ways I view the rest of the world, my nationalistic ego, & my ignorance of not only the need for but also the mandate to long-term, overseas commitments from the American Church. Whether we like to admit it or not, we had better get going--off the seats and into the field. When Roberts mentioned how many Easterners are coming to America as missionaries, I about cried.
What am I doing? What are we doing? Why aren't we doing? Or, is this more about who we refuse to become?

"I too had noticed that our prayers for others flow more easily than those we offer on our own behalf. And it would be nice to accept your view that this just shows we are made to live by charity. I'm afraid, however, I detect two much less attractive reasons for the ease of my own intercessory prayers. One is that I am often, I believe, praying for others when I should be doing things for them. It's so much easier to pray for a bore than to go and see him. And the other is like unto it. Suppose I pray that you may be given grace to withstand your besetting sin (short list of candidates for this post will be forwarded on demand). Well, all the work has to be done by God and you. If I pray against my own besetting sin there will be work for me. One sometimes fights shy of admitting an act to be a sin for this very reason." -C.S. Lewis

Is this real-ly relevant?

I read this article:
(http://www.relevantmagazine.com/pc_article.php?id=7353). It’s entitled “The Commercial Church.”
There are some assertions that the author makes which really resonate with me, like: “Many times, [in a church’s service time] we create spectators rather than participators.” I think that is a real danger when the emphasis on programming is high. I believe we’d better serve and honor both God and people by focusing more energy in creating an environment where people are invited to experience the LORD—not so much a “presentation.” I long for my time spent in a service to be a time and space where I can experience God—right where I’m at: physically, emotionally, and mentally. I wish that the elements of the service time where geared more towards that end then staying on schedule or the impartation of mere information. Do not tell me what to think about, teach me how to think—how to draw closer to Jesus. I’ll never remember three points, a snappy acrostic, and I’ll probably throw away whatever cheesy little reminder thing everyone gets from the ushers. I think people are hungry for “real” more than they are “relevant.” As Peterson [I think] wrote, “Real is always relevant.” Let’s focus on creating a safe place for people to get real with God and experience His love and grace. Let’s help people figure out how to do that versus trying to modify their behavior.
Another opinion with which I agree is the author’s observation that “The non-Christians are now called the ‘un-churched’ or in other words, the ‘un-institutionalized.’ Is that our goal, to ‘church’ people? And so we wonder why people are feeling dry and disconnected from God even though they are active in their church.” I’ve been guilty of this, too. My goal for me, my friends and family should be discipleship not church membership. Unfortunately, trying to find some “disciple-facilitators” amongst all these teachers and preachers can sometimes prove tricky . . .