The enormous beef recall, the result of animal cruelty violations, has brought the subject or factory animal farming to the forefront. Again.

Greg Boyd, a minister in Minnesota, discussed the issue of factory farming in a blog post, “Compassionate Dominion and Factory Farms.” It’s a very, very compelling piece. And then you can watch the video “Farm to Fridge,” which about made me wretch.

Yes, God gave us dominion over animals. And yes, the Bible nowhere prohibits eating meat. But factory farming, these hellholes of misery for millions of animals, cannot possibly be part of God’s plan. It’s an abomination to which we Christians are blind.

Meanwhile, I love eating meat. What do I do about this? Greg Boyd became a vegetarian, but doesn’t urge that on everyone. But at the least, he suggests eating only meat from free-range animals. Like those cows and pigs and chickens on grandpa’s farm, that roamed the pastures all day long in the fresh air. But how can you know, when you sit down at Logan’s or Smokey Bones, the road that that sirloin took before landing on your plate?

I don’t know what I think about all of this. But it really bothers me. It’s most definitely a moral issue. Read Greg Boyd’s post. It’ll disturb you.

A very interesting post on what I’ve discovered is a very interesting website: Swerve, by Craig Groeschel, pastor of the highly innovative Lifechurch.tv. Groeschel is writing about humility. He says it is dangerous to not only take all the credit when something goes well, but also dangerous to take the blame when things don’t go well.

For example, when a ministry struggles, some totally blame themselves: “I must not be doing a good job. If I were, then this would grow and thrive.” If we blame ourselves for the hard times, we’ll likely take credit for the successes, too.

That’s a fascinating thought, particularly in a church setting. When things don’t go well, we tend to castigate ourselves for dropping the ball–not working hard enough, not praying enough, not whatever enough. When things do go successfully, we say in humility, “It’s all God. He deserves the credit.” And yet, are we actually thinking but not saying, “Man, we sure pulled that off well! We thought it out, we put in the effort. We accomplished!” Deep down.

I’m certainly not one to avoid self credit. Just being honest.

How does this work theologically? Can we give God the credit whether something bombs or triumphs? We certainly do deserve the blame for failures. At the same time, we may deserve all the credit for the success–because we pretty much pulled it off in our own strength, without wrestling with God’s desires and praying. Heavens, during my lifetime in the church, I’m sure I’ve done many things for God’s glory without seeking his help.

Slate magazine has a fascinating slideshow of megachurch architecture, including good commentary. You’ll find photos from Lakewood Church (Joel Osteen’s stomping ground), Willow Creek, the Crystal Cathedral (which is the only one which inspires awe), and others. Including the 21,000-seat Mormon conference center in Salt Lake City, the largest religious assembly place in the country. Really interesting stuff.

I try to be a champion for small churches. This doesn’t mean I’m anti-Big Church. Sure, I have my issues with them, but I’m also fascinated and thrilled by what some megachurches are doing–Granger, Quest, Willow Creek, Seacoast, Lifechurch, and many more. And yet…small churches, despite their own “issues,” deserve more respect than they get.

Keith Dury’s column last week was called “Seven Advantages of Starting Out in a Small Church.” He tries to encourage his ministerial students at Indiana Wesleyan, most of whom come from large churches, to consider beginning their ministry in a small church. One of his points was “Small churches give you a chance to do everything.”

In one year at a small church you’ll get to do 25 times the things you’ll get to do on a large church staff. Weddings, baptisms, funerals, hospital visitation, budgeting, preaching, prayer meetings, leading board meetings, and a hundred other things are normal for a year’s work in a small church. On a large church staff you may serve ten years before you get to do 90% of a minister’s ordinary work.

In a later point, Drury emphasizes that small churches let you preach, whereas if you’re on staff at a church of 1000, you may rarely (if ever) get the chance to preach. (And yet you want to be called a “preacher”?)

The same issues apply to laypersons. In large churches, you might take spiritual gifts tests and then get slotted into roles consistent with your test scores. If your test-determined gift is Hospitality, then you become a greeter. I really really despise that, for several reasons.

For one, your “gifts” will vary, depending on the test you take. I normally score high in Teaching, Administration, and Giving. But in a recent online test, Music, Writing, Hospitality, and Giving were my high scores. And in another, my high gifts were Giving, Hospitality, Missionary, and Music. Way too many questions are based on what you currently do or have done. If I attended a large church, my piano playing wouldn’t be of sufficient calibre and would go unused and unappreciated. But I use it all the time in a small church, and thus, Music emerges as a key gift. It has nothing, in my view, to do with any actual divinely-imparted gift.

Additionally: why limit your Christian service to one or two areas (your areas of giftedness)? As a layperson in a small (120 persons) church, I’m able to do some of everything. I operate in the areas of many of the gifts, regardless of whether those are “spiritual gifts.” I give, I show hospitality, I teach, I lead, I evangelize, I encourage, I show faith, I serve, I show mercy. I even preach occasionally.

When a church need arises, my involvement never depends on a stupid test score. If I feel God wants me involved, I do it. Whether or not I’m any good at it. How is that theologically wrong?

In a large church, I could do only a few things. And I wouldn’t be able to do the thing that gives me the most joy (play the keyboard). But in a small church, there are no restrictions. I can do it all, and I’m severely needed. I like that.