Category Archives: Religion in General

The NCD Survey – Measuring Partial Health

My church has taken the Natural Church Development survey several times, and it’s a useful tool for identifying church weaknesses and strengths. But I’ve had some nagging doubts. The folks who developed the survey claim they studied healthy churches in all kinds of settings around the world, and that the survey is universally applicable. But when I take it, the questions always seem geared to a white suburban or smalltown American church. Would they really apply to a persecuted house church in China?

In particular, I didn’t remember any questions about how the church cares for the poor, the dispossessed, widows, homeless, prisoners, etc. The Bible is pretty clear that these are things a church must do. So how can a church be “healthy” when these areas are totally ignored?

Today I looked over an NCD questionnaire, just to see if my suspicions had any basis. There are 91 questions, and number 82 does ask you to give a response to the statement, “Our church does something about hunger in the world.”

But beyond that reference to world hunger, the survey makes no attempt to measure whether the church is doing anything for poor people, for people with AIDS, for single-parent families, for the homeless, for people in prison, for social justice, for immigrants, etc. There is not even anything about race, like whether or not your congregation contains people of other races and ethnicities. These issues may not matter (sadly) in American suburban churches, but they certainly matter in most of the non-Western world. Yet, if your church does help poor people, fight injustice, and seek racial integration, the NCD survey won’t give you any credit for it.

While not dealing with those issues, the survey does ask, “Despite my church activities, I still have sufficient time for my hobbies.” It’s nice that the survey is concerned about my hobbies. I might propose a statement like, “My hobbies get shorted, because I’d rather give my time to church work” That seems like a better indicator of health.

If this survey were truly international in scope, there would be questions like:

  • Our church remains strong in the face of persecution.
  • We lovingly reach out to victims of AIDS.
  • People of various races feel at home in our church.
  • We are an advocate for social justice.
  • We help people around us who live in poverty.

But no, the NCD survey evidently doesn’t require that a church worry about the homeless, the dispossessed, the prisoner, the stranger, people of other races. You can receive a healthy score without doing any of those things, and you can feel good about yourself. If we measure what we consider important, then the NCD survey considers our hobbies more important than poor people. Yeah, Jesus would agree with that.

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The Many Shades of Closeness

One of the speakers at the MinistryCOM Conference, Scott Evans of Outreach Inc., focused on outreach communications. He talked about “proximity,” saying that people are more likely to come to your church if they are “close” to you. But he described three different types of closeness, or proximity.

  • Geographic proximity. This is what we normally think of. People within a five-mile radius of your church are most likely to come for a visit.
  • Demographic proximity. What is the make-up of your church? Lots of seniors? Lots of singles? Lots of kids? Young families? Whatever you have a lot of, you’re more likely to attract more of. A young family that visits a church with lots of other young families is more likely to conclude, “This is the church for us,” than a single who visits that church and doesn’t see other people his/her age arriving or sitting alone (and, therefore, probably single).
  • Spiritual proximity. This one intrigued me. Most churches are probably populated mainly by active and inactive believers, and that’s the type of person most churches attract–people who want to get involved, or people who want to merely attend and inhabit a pew. But is your church welcoming to nonbelievers? Do your pews contain unbelievers who are either neutral to the Gospel, or who are seeking? My own church has a number of nonChristians who seem to enjoy hanging out with us saints. That’s a pretty cool thing.

The speaker stopped with those types of proximity. I’m playing with a couple of additional ones, both of which pertain only to Christians looking for a church.

  • Theological proximity. Before settling on a new church, I would check out the church’s doctrinal beliefs. Seems like a no-brainer.
  • Style proximity. This has to do with preferences regarding how the church does worship or church in general. For instance, if I were looking for a new church, I wouldn’t pick a liturgical church, nor a church still using just a piano and organ. I want a band. A band that rocks. Other persons, though, may look for something liturgical in style.

Evans also said something that we should all think about. He said only 1% of people are believers looking for a new church. And yet, that’s who we seem to target in our promotional materials. We talk about the programs we offer, our beliefs, where we fit in the theological spectrum (“conservative evangelical,” “charismatic,” etc.), our style of worship, etc. But none of this will necessarily attract nonbelievers. To do that, we need to climb out of our boxes and get creative.

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Snootiness and Church Size

Though I loved the MinistryCOM conference, my first impression was a groan.

When I registered, I was directed to choose one of four colored badge holders based on my church’s size. Blue for churches of under 1000, green for 1000-3000, yellow for 3000-5000, and red (I think it was) for churches above 5000. I, of course, took the blue one. Reluctantly. I hate pecking orders, and that’s what this sounded like.

Throughout the 1980s, I attended the Evangelical Press Association’s annual convention, a really big deal which brought together editors and staffs from several hundred evangelical publications, incuding all the biggies (like the Christianity Today family, Moody Monthly, Decision, Focus on the Family, etc.). I then edited a denominational magazine with less than 5000 subscribers. Denominational magazines were at the bottom of the pecking order, and 5000 subscribers was peanuts. Now, I had invitations to move to large, status publications, but I always felt God wanted me to remain with the United Brethren church. So I just sucked up the general disdain from the snooties.

But after a decade, I grew tired of being looked down on. The final straw came when I talked over lunch with an editor from The Banner, a prominent, award-winning denominational magazine for one of the Reformed denominations. The lady asked me who I worked for, and I told her. What’s your circulation? Five thousand. How large is your staff? It’s just me. Then she said, “Well, it must be very rewarding work.” While what I read between her words was, “Loser.” She then seemed bored talking with me, and turned her attention to others.

In reality, I knew I could write circles around her. I had three EPA writing awards to my name. I’d sold freelance articles to over 40 Christian publications. But because of size issues–denomination, circulation, staff–she considered herself a cut above me.

The editors from the big publications hung around each other, they ate together, they formed circles during break. Meanwhile, we little guys scattered around the edges, drinking coffee by ourselves, waiting for the next session to start. At meals, we filled in at tables with an extra chair.

I went to one more convention and stopped. I’d had enough with the status positioning, the snobbishness of the Big Boys (and Girls).

So, when I picked up my MinistryCOM name-badge holder, those old feelings came back. I represent a small church in a small denomination. I wouldn’t be considered a person with much to offer, just a peon coming to learn from the Biggies.

I asked one lady what church she was from, and her instincts immediately went to size. Her response was a chagrinned, “We’re not a large church.” Amused by her seeming sense of inferiority, I told her, “My church has 120 people. We’re a land-locked church plant.” She perked up and said, “Oh, we have a thousand people.” She paused, then said with a smile which humbly recognized the silliness of our dance, “I guess you win.”

So, I probably had the distinction of representing the conference’s smallest church (though I actually came representing my denomination, which was as big as two Christ’s Church of the Valleys).

But joy of joys, I experienced none of the snootiness I experienced in the Evangelical Press Association. Nobody paid attention to the color of your badge. We were all communications professionals serving the Lord. And I found that so extremely refreshing.

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Book: Adventures in Missing the Point

book_adventures.jpgPaula, my niece, highly recommended the book Adventures in Missing the Point, by Tony Campolo and Brian McLaren. Each chapter deals with a different topic–Doubt, Sin, Women in Ministry, Homosexuality, the Environment, Evangelism, etc. The two authors each wrote half of the chapters and briefly commented on the other person’s chapters.

Since Paula recommended the book, as we stood in the Christian bookstore where she works, I bought it. I finished the book a few weeks ago.

Last night, I had supper with an old friend, We were talking about postmodernism and how much we bought into the assumptions about the fundamental attitudinal change which postmodernism insists is upon us. And so it’s inevitable that Brian McLaren’s name arose, since he’s the guru of postmodernism. My friend, Steve, suddenly asked, “Am I the only one who thinks McLaren is a boring writer?”

I thought I was alone. I breezed through Campolo’s chapters in Adventures in Missing the Point, but found myself continually bogged down in McLaren’s chapters. The contrast was spectacular. I ended up reading all of Campolo’s chapters first, checking them off in the table of contents, and then forced myself to read McLaren’s chapters, like downing cough syrup. Steve, my friend, had exactly the same experience.

Campolo’s chapter on homosexuality was some of the best writing I’ve seen on that subject; many of my questions found answers that lined up very satisfactorily. His chapters on women in ministry, the environment, and eschatology were also very good.

Sorry, but none of McLaren’s chapters seemed particularly insightful, though my copy of the book does show occasional underlines in his writing. And they certainly weren’t fun to read. (Paula found the chapter on “Doubt” very helpful to her, which is great.) Part of my problem with McLaren is that he looks at everything through the filter of postmodernism. I don’t think he could go to the bathroom without pondering how the urinal design reflects modernity. Since I don’t necessarily buy some of his basic assumptions, and yet he examines every subject in the book based on those assumptions being correct…well, that obviously creates a problem.

So do I recommend this book? I recommend half of it. Campolo’s superb. Skip the rest.

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No More Sexist Trinity

The Presbyterian Church (USA), at its national convention, “received” a policy paper which suggests that the church adopt gender-inclusive language for the Trinity. Referring to the Trinity as “Father, Son, and Holy Ghost” is obviously sexist and alienates womyn everywhere. It’s a wonder any female would want to become a Christian, huh?

So here are their alternate ways to refer to the Trinity:

  • Rock, Redeemer, and Friend
  • Mother, Child, and Womb
  • Lover, Beloved, and Love
  • Creator, Savior, and Sanctifier
  • King of Glory, Prince of Peace, and Spirit of Love

So instead of being baptized “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” you could be baptized “in the name of the Rock, Redeemer, and Friend.”

I begin most of my prayers with, “Dear Father,” for whatever reason. Learned it as a kid, I guess, and fell into that rut. Perhaps I should begin prayers with, “Dear Creator,” or “Dear Lover.” Yeah, that would catch Pam’s attention in a public prayer meeting.

Then there’s the familiar Doxology, which ends “…praise father, son, and Holy Ghost.” The delegates sang a version which uses alternate language and avoids male nouns and pronouns for God.

I learned about this on Mark Driscoll’s blog. He referred to “some folks at the Presbyterian Church (USA) who have free time because no one is going to their church.” Oooooh, touche!

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Layperson’s Code of Conduct

We laypersons can be a pain in the butt for pastors. From my perch at our denominational headquarters, I’ve heard gobs of sad stories over the past 27 years of laypersons who deflate churches and wound pastors. There are entrenched patriarchs who refuse to relinquish power and who selfishly veto ideas for moving the church forward. There are laypersons who care deeply about ministry, but voice their concerns and passions in unhealthy ways. There are outright carnal people who push themselves into positions of power and wreak havoc. There are people who just talk too much, scattering petty criticisms throughout the congregation. There are laypersons who micromanage the pastor.

There are good laypersons, too. Whenever a church is growing, it’s not just the pastor’s doing. He has laypersons working alongside him in positive ways. But too often, I hear about the negative kind.

During the 1990s, my denomination held a leadership conference which brought together several hundred United Brethren ministers and laypersons. One morning we divided everyone into 48 different groups–24 groups of laypersons, 24 groups of pastors and wives. We instructed them to develop a ten-point “Code of Conduct” for themselves–one code of conduct for ministers, and one for laypersons. I helped compile and condense the 48 different codes. We ended up with a 15-point Code of Conduct for ministers and a 12-point Code of Conduct for laypersons.

I recently stumbled across these codes, and they still contain a great deal of wisdom. Here is the Code of Conduct for Laypersons. This was a reminder to me of what a jerk I can be (the “cares deeply but acts unhealthily” variety) at times. Read this, and pray for laypersons who will follow it.

  1. I will be open-minded to change, and will not insist that others follow my preferences.
  2. I will focus on the positive in our church and convey that to others.
  3. I will abide in Christ and bear the responsibility of that relationship.
  4. I will demonstrate a servant attitude in carrying out my church responsibilities.
  5. I will continuously evaluate my schedule, balancing family and church time in a way which puts family first.
  6. I will not create conflict, and will lovingly confront those who do.
  7. I will not criticize the pastor or others behind their backs, but will speak to them personally, always offering a solution with any complaints.
  8. I will expand my witness in my corner of God’s world, and will do nothing to jeopardize my witness.
  9. I will recognize that my talents, time, and resources belong to Christ.
  10. I will be consistent and dependable.
  11. I will pray for my church, its leaders, and its ministry.
  12. I will continually remind myself that the ministry of the church is my ministry.
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Be Quiet, Cut Those Braids, Lose the Pearls

Mary LambertMary Lambert of Watertown, New York, is being discussed all over the web. That’s her on the right. She’s 81, and has taught Sunday school for 54 years at her American Baptist church. But Mary was recently dismissed as a teacher because her church decided to take a literal interpretation of Paul’s statement in 1 Timothy, “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent.”

Rev. Timothy LaBouf, who came to the church a full two years ago brimming with principle, explained that outside the church, a woman can hold any job she wants, whether or not it involves teaching or overseeing men. But not in the church. This seems, to my untrained ear, like he’s watering down literalness, but so be it. As a town council member, it’s expedient that he do so. He also clarified that he interpreted this only to refer to “women teaching spiritual matters in a church setting.” So he was working hard to squeeze the Bible into his preferred mold. Kind of like a George Bush signing statement.

As you might guess, I’m not in LaBouf’s camp. I’ve always been a “grace and freedom in Christ” person when it comes to issues where the Bible isn’t firm. So has our denomination. Like many (most?) people, I view Paul’s words as wise instructions for that culture, but not as biblical absolutes for all time. Some folks choose to err on the legalistic side when it comes to what women can and can’t do, but I can’t see Jesus doing that. He constantly did battle with rule-makers. Jesus was about grace and freedom. When he died, the curtain in the temple that separated the men from the women and the Jews from the Gentiles–the thing was torn in two. Hint hint.

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Remembering Terry Anderson

In 1988, I was on the planning committee for the annual convention of the Evangelical Press Association. The convention was being held in Indianapolis, and various Christian magazine editors from Indiana comprised the planning committee. Thus my involvement. We spent a year fleshing out much of what we wanted to do. Then the association’s leaders asked us to turn it into a joint convention with the Associated Church Press, and it was back to Square One.

The EPA is the conservative group, the ACP the liberal group. The ACP includes publications from mainline churches, and even some Jewish and other non-Protestant publications. But we agreed to give it a try. And so, our planning committee doubled in size, as the ACP added representatives. And we pretty much started over, program-wise. We explained what we had already put together, but they vetoed a number of the speakers we had lined up, because they were too evangelical or not sufficiently politically correct or, for some other reason, weren’t properly palatable to their diverse constituencies. But we found some middle ground. Mark Noll of Wheaton College keynoted the opening session marvelously. Sandi Patti (sister-in-law of one of our committee members) gave us a concert to close the convention. I even did a seminar for editors of small-budget publications.

However, the two groups were too distinctly different. I deemed the convention a noble experiment worth trying once, but not repeating. And I don’t think they have tried a joint convention again.

However, I clearly remember a prayer by one of the mainline guys in the opening session, a prayer that had a profound and enduring impact on me, though you’ll consider it trivial when I tell you why. In that prayer, this guy prayed for Terry Anderson, one of the hostages being held in Lebanon at that time. And the way he injected it into his prayer, I knew that his prayers always included Terry Anderson. Meanwhile, I couldn’t remember hearing anyone in evangelical circles (like, my own denomination) pray for Terry Anderson, this man who was suffering unjustly. Why was Terry Anderson not on our minds? And why did this “liberal” guy remember Terry as a routine part of his prayer life?

That prayer awakened me to the fact that some of our “liberal” friends are sensitive to issues that we evangelicals need to be sensitive to. Issues of justice, race, poverty, health, hunger, suffering, and much more. These things are on their radar. They aren’t much on our radar. And they need to be.

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Book: God in the Alley

I read a lot of books by Christians who care about the poor. You know, “liberal” Christians, those social-justice peaceniks who live in communes and, incredibly, do not see the blatant inconsistency in claiming to be a Christian while voting for Democrats. Sadly, because of what is an obviously compromised state of mind, I actually learn a great deal from these folks.

GodintheAlley_150.jpgAbout a month ago I finished “God in the Alley,” by Greg Paul, who leads a small church in Toronto among prostitutes, the homeless, drug addicts, and general down-and-outers. Reading books like this demolishes the canned solutions and simpleton answers that we well-fed evangelicals (and the entire Republican Party) routinely fling at deep social problems.

I most remember the story of Rose, daughter of a heroin addict, now a prostitute trying to care for her own two children, whom she loves deeply. How can she be a prostitute and be a good mother? Greg Paul describes her as a commendably good mother.

Despite the fact that nobody anywhere ever has modeled healthy parenting for her, she is absolutely dialed in to those children. You make some remark to that effect, and her eyes fill with tears.

“I love them,” she says, simply, softly. “I’d do anything for them.”

And she does. Every night, in cars, hotel rooms, alleyways. Every night, she sacrifices her body for the children she loves.

Wow. There’s a whole world–a complicated, untidy, messy world–that I know nothing about, living in my comfortable middle class suburban home. I can sit back and render judgement on Rose, state what she needs to do to make her life right. But I’m largely ignorant of the real dynamics of such situations. I catch many glimpses of it at Anchor, my own church, as we interact with people in deep, deep holes. And I do, finally, get my hands a little bit dirty (as opposed to just writing a check).

I grew up hearing easy answers to social problems spewed from pulpits. But we don’t know what we’re talking about. Greg Paul offers no easy solutions. He just tells stories about people in this blighted area of Toronto, and sometimes the stories have happy endings. Greg Paul knows what he’s talking about. And having read his book, I know a lot more.

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I’m an Apocalyptic Spoilsport

When I was a teen, I devoured prophecy books like The Late Great Planet Earth and heard doomsday sermons that scared the heck out of me. But by the time I turned 20, the skeptic in me took firm command and hasn’t relinquished his grip. I decided I wouldn’t get my underpants bunched up over that stuff anymore. Lots of people with high prophecy IQs restock their bunkers every time the Palestinians throw a temper-tantrum. But I refuse to join the hysteria. So while wars and rumors of wars and all kinds of biblical stuff happens, turning otherwise rational people into drooling doomsday-mongers, I remain cynically calm. It’s one way to relieve stress. Thus far, I have a nearly 30-year stockpile of I-told-you-sos.

I’m thinking about this because lately, our pseudo-news TV shows have been playing up the fear (or glee) among evangelical Christians that the current turmoil in Israel may usher in the Apocalypse. That we’re on the verge of the Left Behind books becoming reality. Jon Stewart’s “Daily Show” ran through a whole bunch of reports last Thursday night. Blogs talk about why, this time, The End really–seriously, we’re not kidding this time–is nigh.

I hate to be a spoilsport. I know that Christians for 2000 years have been expecting the latest crisis to trigger the Second Coming, so when I say “It ain’t gonna happen this time, neither,” it’s just gratuitous piling-on. But that’s my view. Maybe it’ll happen in 50 years, maybe 100. But not anytime soon. And boy of boy, does that opinion irk today’s Christians, who yearn for God to flush the cosmic toilet in their lifetime, and who can quote me chapter-and-verse conclusive proof that this time, the stars are correctly aligned. “Steve, just read Revelation! It’s all right there!”

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