One of our storytellers at the NEXT National Gathering, Casey Fitzgerald, put together a video of Jeremiah 29 involving 22 voices. Listen, and watch, for the Word of God:
Check out Casey’s website, Faith and Wonder, for more videos of biblical storytelling, and suggestions for using these videos.
Editor’s Note: Periodically, we will be sharing “notes from the field” from Plaza and Community Church. We hope their experiences will help inform your own… Perhaps to shape your thinking, spark a new idea, lend some energy to tackle something new, or invite leaders in your community to reflect on a particular guiding question.If this is the first you are hearing of this project, click here for the full introduction to this pilot program. If you missed the introduction to Plaza Church, click here.
By Tom Tate
Five months back in the Sanctuary after our summer experience in a much more intimate and informal setting, we are finding that some of the things we did last summer have stuck.
This was our summer worship space.
Our worship is now forty-five minutes in length, (11:00 to 11:45 a.m.) using a modified version of the “Service for the Lord’s Day.” It’s the same order but with parts missing depending on the emphasis of the message. Two hymns instead of three. More expressive readings of the Bible. And we pass the Peace following the Blessing as we move back into the world. We are also singing the Peace, using a version written by Charles Austin, our former Director of Music/Organist. (One reason for the forty-five minute service is so all our members can remain for the entire service. Some who live in retirement communities have had to leave during the final hymn to get home in time for lunch. Now they can stay for the entire service.)
New “in the round” space
We have moved pews and introduced chairs in an attempt to re-create some of the intimacy we found in the Conference Room. With the Communion Table moved deeper into the congregation we are almost worship-in-the-round.
There is some informality to the service even though I am wearing a robe again and so are our choir members. While our central pulpit and the Baptismal Font remain on the “chancel platform,” most of the service is conducted from the Communion Table with members in front and on both sides, and the choir behind in the choir loft. We have continued the use of different styles of praying sometimes interspersing spoken prayer with sung verses of a hymn, lining-out the prayer for congregation participation, even singing the prayer. There is less formal liturgy. When the choir sings with piano accompaniment, and they are doing that more often, they move from the loft to surround the piano. The piano itself is moved to a more central location on those occasions.
Preaching from the table, with the people
These changes have brought us closer together. We naturally see each other face-to-face as we worship. We are lingering after worship in a time of informal fellowship. And we seem to be more engaged in hearing the Word. Now we are working on doing the Word outside our sanctuary walls.
Tom Tate is the pastor of Plaza Presbyterian Church. He and Jeff Krehbiel will be offering a workshops on some of the learnings from Paracletos at the NEXT Gathering in Minneapolis!
By Rodger Nishioka
In their book, The Godbearing Life, which has now become a youth ministry standard, Kenda Creasy Dean who teaches at Princeton Theological Seminary and Ron Foster, pastor of a United Methodist congregation, identify one of the most problematic models traditional youth ministry as the “one-eared Mickey Mouse.” In their description, the congregation and its ministry form the head of Mickey Mouse while youth ministry forms one ear that, like the Mickey Mouse image, is barely attached to the head. The problem, they say, is that young people grow up with an understanding that youth ministry is only tangentially connected to the life of the whole church if it is connected at all. They view youth ministry as something that is separate. This view ends up reinforcing the natural egocentrism of adolescence and while that may suffice for a while, when young people grow up, they find themselves bereft of any understanding of church and the whole church’s ministry and their part in it. That is when they drift away. Tragically, we set them up for this by locating their ministry as something apart from the rest of the church. This analogy is potent as we consider the place of children in the church.
In too many congregations, our children are “dismissed” to go to “children’s church” or something like it either a few minutes into the congregation’s worship or in place of being present in the congregation’s worship at all. As far as I can tell, this is a 20th century phenomenon. In reviewing session minutes from Presbyterian congregations in the archives here at Columbia Theological Seminary, this action of sending children out of worship began in the 1950s at the height of the post-war baby boom. Prior to this, no such thing existed. Children were in the whole of worship with their families. But in the years following the second world war with the tremendous influx of newborns, congregations began looking for immediate and cost effective ways to gain more space in the sanctuary to accommodate all these young families and their children and some inventive pastor or church educator thought about sending the children out to make more space for adults and thus, the phenomenon of “dismissing” children from worship was born. If a generation runs approximately 20 years, then we are into our third generation of this experience and it has become normative for us all. Indeed, when I have preached in congregations where there is now plenty of room for all ages to worship together, church after church still sends children out of worship because “that’s what we have always done.” The truth is, that is NOT what we have always done and even more, we are now reaping what we have sown.
We have sown three generations of children leaving or never worshipping with us, and it is no wonder that so many find worship boring and incomprehensible when they come of age and are expected to join us. Further, when I suggest that children remain with us during the whole of worship, some of the loudest objections come from some young parents who want worship to be a time for them when they do not have to worry about their child’s behavior. My own sense is that this reflects the current belief among developmental theorists that adolescence is extending well into young adulthood and what else is a true sign of adolescence but the primary focus on one’s own needs over others. And after all, these parents of young children experienced the pattern of a separate “adult worship” and “children’s worship” when they were young so is not that what church is supposed to be like?
Here is the greatest problem I find in separating our children from us in the worship of God. In Matthew’s gospel, he relays the story also found in Mark and Luke about Jesus encountering little children. Parents are bringing their children to Jesus because they want their daughters and sons to meet him, but the disciples turn them away. Jesus tells the disciples to , “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.” (Matt. 19:14). Readers of Matthew know that the gospel writer often uses the words “kingdom of heaven” euphemistically for “God.” Given the quote from Jesus, he seems to be telling us all that God belongs to children. This is unique, truly. I can find no other place in the gospels where God is said to belong to anyone. It seems that there is something about children that they alone are named as the ones who possess God. For me, then, the question of children and the church is first and foremost a theological one. If we are called as the body of Christ to worship God and to glorify God and to enjoy God (as the Westminster divines tell us in the catechism), then does it not make sense that those to whom God is said to belong, our children, should at least be present among us? In fact, should not our children be leading us in this endeavor for which we were created?
There is no “children’s church” separate from the “church.” Children’s church IS the church. Amen.
Rodger Nishioka is the Benton Family Chair in Christian Education at Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, GA.
Today we aren’t posting new material, but pointing everyone back to the fabulous Theresa Cho and her blog Still Waters. Theresa and the saints at St. John’s Presbyterian Church create masterful, meaningful worship experiences for God’s children of all ages. Check out these two posts in particular (and while you’re on Theresa’s blog, check out the wonderful prayer stations!)
Theresa shares some of the challenge of being a parent and in worship leader or participant and offers some tips on welcoming children (and their parents) in worship from their experience in making worship intergenerational at St. John’s.
Let the Children Come – Intergenerational Worship
Intergenerational worship based on different learning styles sounds great! But how do you get from here to there? You make change along the way. Theresa shares the step-by-step experiment they led to increase variety and flexibility within worship. Hint: She also highlights Storypath, the new online resources from Union Presbyterian Seminary to connect children’s literature with the lectionary and biblical/theological themes.
A Disciplined Experiment on Changing Worship
Theresa Cho is the Co-Pastor of St. John’s Presbyterian Church in San Francisco, CA and blogs at Still Waters.
“Fans of a beloved contemporary Christian hymn won’t get any satisfaction” in the new Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) hymnal, Glory to God, according to USA Today. When the hymn’s authors refused to change their lyrics the Presbyterian Committee on Congregational Song voted to drop it. Some say it’s about the “wrath of God.” Others that it’s the word “satisfied” and the theology that goes along with it. When Stuart Townend and Keith Getty wrote their 2001 hymn one stanza went like this:
In Christ alone, who took on flesh, Fullness of God in helpless babe! This gift of love and righteousness, Scorned by the ones He came to save: Till on that cross as Jesus died, The wrath of God was satisfied – For every sin on Him was laid; Here in the death of Christ I live.
The new hymnal committee, though, had found the song in a recently printed hymnal by a group of Baptists where the words were different: “Till on that cross as Jesus died The love of God was magnified.” In the process of clearing copyrights the committee discovered that the authors had not approved and would not approve the change. The altered words went too far. People making a case to retain the text with the authors’ original lines spoke of the fact that the words expressed one view of God’s saving work in Christ that has been prevalent in Christian history. This was the view of Anselm of Canterbury and John Calvin, among others, that God’s honor was violated by human sin and that God’s justice could only be satisfied by the atoning death of a sinless victim.
While this might not be one’s personal view it is nonetheless a view held by some members of the Presbyterian family of faith. In addition, the hymnal is not a vehicle for one group’s perspective but rather a collection for use by a diverse body. Others pointed out that a hymnal does not simply collect diverse views, but also selects to emphasize some over others as part of its mission to form the faith of coming generations. They said it would be a disservice to this educational mission to perpetuate by way of a new text the view that the cross is primarily about God’s need (via Jesus’ death) to assuage God’s anger. Rather, Jesus’ death on the cross is the supreme example of God’s suffering love and that love changes our lives entirely.
As you reflect on the “work of Jesus on the cross” remember that the “Confession of 1967” says that “God’s reconciling act in Jesus Christ is a mystery which the Scriptures describe in various ways. It is called the sacrifice of a lamb, a shepherd’s life given for his sheep, atonement by a priest; again it is ransom of a slave, payment of debt, vicarious satisfaction of a legal penalty, and victory over the powers of evil. These are expressions of a truth which remains beyond the reach of all theory in the depths of God’s love for man. They reveal the gravity, cost, and sure achievement of God’s reconciling work.” (Book of Confessions, 9.09) Questions for Discussion What did Jesus accomplish on the cross? Is the cross necessary because of God’s wrath toward human beings because of our sin? Does “satisfied” mean that Jesus paid the whole price for sins, the price necessary to overcome God’s wrath? Or is the focus on the love of God thus “magnified”? What do you think? And why?
Sources: a USA Today article printed in the Charlotte Observer (August 10, 2013, p. 2E); an article by Mary Louise Bringle in the Christian Century (May 2013); Donald K. McKim, Presbyterian Questions, Presbyterian Answers; a blog by Adam Coleman.
by Jeff Krehbiel
Among my Presbyterian colleagues, several articles have been making the rounds this summer about millennials and the church. The most popular was by the evangelical writer Rachel Held Evans, published in the CNN Belief blog, “Why Millennials Are Leaving the Church.”
Here’s the money quote:
“What millennials really want from the church is not a change in style but a change in substance… You can’t hand us a latte and then go about business as usual and expect us to stick around. We’re not leaving the church because we don’t find the cool factor there; we’re leaving the church because we don’t find Jesus there.”
David Murrow, author of Why Men Hate Going to Church, posted an equally popular post on Patheos titled “Why traditional churches should stick with traditional worship.” He writes about skipping his usual mega-church one Sunday for a smaller, more traditional church closer to home, and being put off by their attempt at being “contemporary.” He concludes:
“When traditional churches try to be contemporary it usually comes across as forced, stilted or artificial. This dissonance jerks people back into the mundane world. Worshippers focus on the distraction instead of the Lord. So here’s my advice to every church: be who you are. Do what you do well – and do it over and over.”
What Evans and Murrow write, of course, is sound advice. All people, regardless of their age, value authenticity over pretense, substance over style. Here’s my worry: What we are really thinking when we read these articles is “Whew! Thank God I don’t need to worry any long about making any changes in worship. Now we can go back to focusing on the things that really matter and leave worship alone.”
Change Without Conflict?
My colleague Molly Douthett, pastor of Furnace Mountain Presbyterian Church, posted this enigmatic little entry on Facebook the other day:
Two Myths:
We can grow without changing.
We can change without conflict.
That, it seems to me, gets to the heart of the matter. As conflict-averse people we want to reach new people without conflict, so we hope against hope that we can grow without having to change anything about how we do church.
Style and Substance
Our experience at Church of the Pilgrims over the past thirteen years, as our average age has gradually shifted from over 65 to less than 45, with Sunday worship peopled by a lot of twenty and thirty-somethings, is that style and substance are not so easily separated. Not only has the participation of young adults in worship been transforming for them, it has changed who we are as a community of faith.
One of the most helpful pieces of advice I received as a young pastor came from former moderator John Fife, long-time pastor of Southside Presbyterian Church in Tucson. At an urban ministry conference following his moderatorial year, he spoke about the lessons he learned in leading Southside into deeper engagement with its changing local community. He said that no matter what new demographic you are trying to reach (a different age, race, gender, ethnicity, whathaveyou), when people come to worship they want to see their own people in leadership and hear their own sound.
In subtle, and sometimes not so subtle ways (“You’re in my pew!”), we often communicate to newcomers that this is a place for us, but not a place for you. If the only ones required to change in bringing newcomers into the church are the newcomers themselves, we have a problem. Brian McClaren has often observed that there are scores of disaffected evangelicals who would easily find a theological home among Presbyterian and other mainline Christians congregations, but those congregations are often not experienced as hospitable places to those outside their fold. The message is often this: This is how we do things. If you are going to fit in here, it’s you who has to do the fitting.
Experiments in Wiki-Church
Howard Hanger, founder of the Jubilee! Community in Asheville persuaded me long ago that the big divide in worship is not between traditional and contemporary, but between passive and participatory. We learn in seminary that “liturgy” is the “work of the people,” but too often it is primarily the work of the pastor’s word processor. More recently, Landon Whittsit in his book Open Source Church, has suggested that in our Wikipedia culture, young adults increasingly expect to help create the experiences of which they are a part.
At Church of the Pilgrims, that begins in worship planning, where we invite a diverse group of worshipers to help us imagine worship together, including newcomers to our community who are not yet members. Then, in our planning, we make sure that worship provides meaningful opportunities to participate in ways that involve more than standing up to sing a hymn or sitting down to read a unison prayer printed in the bulletin.
Transformation and Our Comfort Zone
I love what Corey Widmer wrote in Presbyterian Outlook, that in his culturally diverse congregation in inner city Richmond, they have concluded that no one should be happy in worship more than 75% of the time, because if you are happy and comfortable with more than 75% of what is going on, it most likely means that your personal cultural preferences are being dominantly expressed. Too often, the only ones worshiping outside their comfort zone are those who are new.
What if we began to conceive of worship as a place where transformation takes place, not just for newcomers but for everyone? What if personal and corporate transformation were at the heart of congregational life? When everyone finds themselves in that liminal space, we all enter worship on the same vulnerable footing. A few months ago, MaryAnn McKibben Dana shared this wonderful little diagram on her blog:
Worship that is EPIC
There is no cookie-cutter approach to creating transforming worship. However, we have found this simple rubric from Leonard Sweet to be helpful in our worship planning. He suggests that worship for postmodern people should be EPIC: Experiential, Participatory, Image-Driven, and Connectional. So when we plan worship we talk about what we want the overall experience to be like, and how we can shape worship in a way that engages all of the senses (and not just worship from the neck up). We look for ways that worshipers can participate in meaningful ways. (For rich examples of participatory worship, Theresa Cho, co-pastor of St. John’s Presbyterian in San Francisco, is the master of interactive prayer stations.) Then we ask ourselves if there is a central image that can help ground the service and provide a focal point. Finally, we focus on what is happening in the service that will help worshipers connect with those who are around them.
This isn’t about traditional vs. contemporary, it’s about creating ancient-future patterns that engage in richer ways. (What exactly is contemporary, anyway? Is a new hymn contemporary? Or a praise chorus written in the ‘90’s? Where exactly does a Taizé chant fit in that traditional-contemporary schema? ) So, for example, at Church of the Pilgrims we often begin worship with short songs from Iona, not because they are new, but because singing a cappella in harmony creates community in powerful ways. I would also note that the sacraments, rightly celebrated, are an EPIC experience—there is bread and wine, plate and pitcher; there is taking, breaking, pouring, tasting; and most importantly, there is sharing. It’s all there.
For a recent example at creating worship that is transforming and EPIC, see this.
Jeff Krehbiel is pastor of Church of the Pilgrims in the Dupont Circle neighborhood of Washington, DC, where he has served since 2000. He is a member of the NEXT Church advisory board, and a coach in NEXT’s Paracletos project.
by John Wimberly
For forty years, I lived in a Sunday morning bubble. I got to church around 7:00 a.m. and left church sometime after 1:00 p.m. As a result of living in this bubble, I never experienced what is going on in the rest of the world during that time frame. Recently retired, I now know. And it is sweet!
As I have become acquainted with the non‐church Sunday morning world, I realize just how many wonderful, sublime options people have during this portion of the week. They are connecting with God in nature as they walk their dogs, work in their gardens, or hike/ride bikes/jog. They are connecting with the love of God through their families as they play with their kids, pack up the car and head out for some day adventure or invite friends over for brunch. They are connecting with the God of justice as they read the Sunday paper, listen to talk shows on important political matters or read books about issues in our society.
It would be easy and foolish for those of us in the church to label all of this activity as secular. It isn’t. As I suggest, in and out of church, people are connecting with God in some important ways through various activities. In fact, many of us preach that our members should spend more time with family, in nature, and become knowledgeable about the society in which we live. Many people are doing just that…on Sunday mornings.
So this is the competition we face when we offer a time of worship, education and fellowship in the middle of Sunday morning. When people choose to come to church, these are the delightful, fulfilling things they give up. They forsake activities that have a compelling spiritual value in and of themselves to come into our sanctuaries.
The church’s Sunday morning activities are competing with family, nature and self‐education. It is stiff competition indeed. If worship attendance statistics for PCUSA congregations are correct, it is competition we are increasingly losing.
However, it isn’t a competition we need lose. The act of liturgical worship is a unique way to connect with God. We are offering something people can’t get anywhere else. However, our worship better be good. If our worship and education are inspirational, people will make time for us as surely as they make time for their gardening or jogging. If a sense of community is strong in our congregations, people will view church friendships as important as maintaining friendships with neighbors and co‐workers.
How many of us look out at our congregations on a Sunday morning and think, “Wow, these people gave up a lot of great stuff to be here.”? Well, they did. In response to understanding this choice, how many of us have made preparation for worship one of, even the highest, priorities in our ministry? Have we spent hours upon hours crafting the worship service and writing our sermons? I hope so. Because the competition for the hearts and minds of our members is fierce. Our sermons better be as engaging as the guests on Meet the Press. Our church music better be competitive with the music people listen to as they jog.
We shouldn’t shrink from the competition that takes place each and every Sunday morning. We should welcome it and prepare for it. Aware of the Sunday morning choices people have, we will create even better Sunday morning options for people in the congregations we serve.
John Wimberly is enjoying life as Honorably Retired after serving a church in Washington, DC for many years. John is the author of The Business of the Church: The Uncomfortable Truth that Faithful Ministry Requires Effective Management.
By MaryAnn McKibben Dana
I was honored to preach at the Presbytery of Sheppards and Lapsley at their stated meeting on May 9, 2013. It was a bit of an introduction to NEXT Church. I share it here in hopes that others will find it a helpful taste of what we’re about:
The Hour Has Come
John 2:1-11
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it.
When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
Many preachers I know have a love-hate relationship with the gospel of John. The Jesus in John is just so muscular. I don’t mean that in the sense of brawny, I mean… he’s so capable. Confident. Free of angst. Every move he makes is deliberate. There is no sweating blood in the garden in John, no cry of anguish on the cross, no “My God my God why have you forsaken me?” (Yes, he does say “I’m thirsty,” but John is quick to assure us: He didn’t really need a drink; he just said that to fulfill the scriptures.)
This is a man who knows what he’s doing at every moment. And that’s a comforting thing. But it’s also what makes John’s Jesus really hard to relate to. Jesus is never, ever caught off guard.
Except… here. Here, in this story, we get a little bit of a different picture than the Jesus we meet in most of John. He seems caught a bit off guard. Plus, this is Jesus’ first sign, and it feels different from the others. There are seven in all, and in case you need a review, here they are in no particular order:
– Walking on water.
– Three healings.
– Feeding 5,000 people with the contents of a child’s picnic.
– Raising a guy from the dead.
– And… restocking the bar at a wedding.
One of these signs is not like the other.
* * *
Jesus’ mother comes to him: “They have no more wine.” It’s a statement… that’s really a question. A request. And Jesus gets that, because he responds to what remains unsaid: No mother, that is not my concern. This is not mine to do.
Mary is saying to him, Look… here is an opportunity.
And Jesus responds: Really? Beverage service? For my inaugural sign? I don’t think so. Anyway, my hour has not yet come.
And she turns toward everyone else: Do what he tells you. And again there is a subtext: Yes, your hour has come. You are needed, right now, right here.
I love that Jesus’ first sign is one he never intended to make.
Jesus, it seems, had a plan. He had something in mind for his first sign. I’m not sure what he hoped his first sign would be, but water into wine wasn’t it. I bet it was something great. Maybe he was planning to heal an entire household in one fell swoop. Maybe a nice juicy exorcism. Later he would walk on water; maybe he was going to kick things off by flying through the air like Superman.
But instead he realizes that when it comes to sign #1… mother does know best. And of course, it’s not just about the wine—it’s about hospitality, it’s about providing something amazing for a whole village of people. It’s about God’s abundance. So yes, he’s in.
He looks around: What’s here that I can use? He scopes out his provisions like some kind of Palestinian MacGyver, and he finds 6 water jars.
Uh-oh. Six.
You remember the number 7 as a holy number in scripture. It is a number of perfection, completion. The seven days of creation. Seventh day as the day of rest. Seven signs in the gospel of John, seven churches in the book of Revelation.
But there are only 6 jars. Not good. In the ancient world, 6 was not a holy number. Far from it. Six was seen as a deficient number, imperfect, lacking. So we can see why Jesus would be reluctant to act—wine from seven jars would be a fabulously meaningful sign, dripping with significance. But the tools aren’t right. Things aren’t quite right. Six jars is somehow not enough.
I serve a small congregation in Northern Virginia that has grown from about 70 to about 85 in the last few years. We rejoice at this growth. And we are grateful to have a number of things going for us. We own our building; it’s not too big for us, not too overwhelming for the budget. We have a small endowment. We have great people and an excitement about the future.
And yet… and yet… even with all of those gifts, it is still hard to move forward.
It’s difficult to find the money to do what we want and need to do.
It’s tough to find the people power to move forward on projects and ministries that we feel passionate about.
It’s nearly impossible to figure out how to cut through the noise of the DC area so that our neighbors will know who we are and what we believe and why we’d like them to be a part of it.
It feels sometimes like a six jar situation.
And I wonder if you, too, look around your congregation, or your presbytery, and see six jars.
If we could just catch a break,
if we could just finish that camp,
if we could just get a few more young people to join our church,
if we could just hire a pastor—then, then, we could be the sign that we really want to be, the sign we’ve always dreamed of being.
Maybe you, like Jesus, feel like the timing is off. Jesus says his hour has not come, but for many of us, we feel like our hour is past. The statistics about membership decline in the PC(USA) are repeated so often that they have become a cliché. So many churches, here and around the country, are doing faithful ministry but without the means to call a pastor. Our buildings need maintenance. Meanwhile, a recent Barna survey of pastors and found that 90% of pastors said the ministry was completely different than what they thought it would be like before they entered the ministry. And an astounding 70% say they have a lower self-image now than when they first started.
We’re discouraged.
We’re a day late and a jar short.
Unless.
Unless it’s not up to us to perform a sign, but simply to be the sign.
Unless we worship a God of possibility.
Unless John’s Jesus, our Jesus, can take our jars and look at the clock on the wall and say, “Forget what time it is. I can work with this.”
For the last couple of years I’ve been honored to be a part of the leadership of the NEXT Church. This is a movement within the Presbyterian Church (USA) that has been working to celebrate the places of health in the church and to support those places and help them propagate. The premise of NEXT Church is that the church is not dying. The church is changing, and changing quickly. And we are capable of change, but we can’t wait for Louisville or presbytery or our pastors to do it for us. We are the church.
Last year we hosted half a dozen regional events around the country where ruling elders and teaching elders came together not to transact business or kvetch about presbytery, or argue about ordination standards or gay marriage. They came together to share resources and inspiration. They formed relationships and partnerships.
NEXT Church recently had our national gathering in Charlotte, and we heard about churches that were on life support who turned their worship life around through improv and storytelling. We heard about a large church partnering with a small church through an adminstrative commission. We heard about congregations coming together through community organizing to transform entire neighborhoods.
You can hear these stories and many more on our website. What’s interesting is that many of these folks were reluctant to speak at the conference because they felt like what they had to offer wasn’t all that radical. I’m no expert, they would shrug. They might as well have said, “Eh, I’ve only got six jars.” But their testimonies set the place on fire.
When we offer up those jars… when we fill them to the brim, like those servants did… well, that’s when the good wine starts to flow.
* * *
We’ll never know what Jesus had in mind for his inaugural sign. But it’s significant to me that his first sign wasn’t a healing… it wasn’t an exorcism or a sermon or feeding 5,000 people. It wasn’t a life or death situation at all. The first sign of Jesus helped the hosts of the wedding save face, but otherwise it had very little utility. It was just an act of pure beauty. The party needs to go on, says Jesus. The love and fellowship should continue.
Water into wine is such a small sign. But maybe this sign is just the sign we need. Jean Varnier, founder of the L’Arche Community, reminds us: “A community is only being created when its members accept that they are not going to achieve great things, that they are not going to be heroes. Community is only being created when they have recognized that the greatness of man is to accept his insignificance, his human condition and his earth, and to thank God for having put in a finite body the seeds of eternity which are visible in small and daily gestures of love and forgiveness.”
We get mixed up sometimes. We want to save the church. We want to save the world! But maybe it’s enough to keep the feast going for as long as we can—not cautiously, not fearfully, but brimming over with hope and trust that the wine will flow as long as God means it to.
Maybe God is preparing us for something really, really—small:
Beauty, joy, community, friendship, hospitality.
I will drink to that. How about you?
MaryAnn McKibben is co-chair of NEXT Church. She is a frequent speaker and workshop leader and author of Sabbath in the Suburbs: A Family’s Experiment with Holy Time. She blogs at The Blue Room.
I have always been impressed by the liturgy written by my friend and colleague, Jenny McDevitt. Those who attended the NEXT National Conference in Dalls (2012) will remember the beautiful and inspiring words offered in corporate worship. Liturgy literally means “the work of the people” yet I asked Jenny if she would be willing to write a blog about her process of crafting such communal experiences. I am grateful for her response and pray you receive the following as an offering. (Andrew Taylor-Troutman)
by Jenny McDevitt
I am weeks late in submitting this blog entry, in part because I have been unsure of how to respond. “Tell us how you write liturgy,” the request came. And so I have tried to put words to my process. Words that are slightly more helpful than what feels like the actual truth: I stare a blank computer screen and wait for a miracle to happen.
On the off-chance the above-mentioned technique is not helpful to you, here are some additional possibilities.
Hear it
Whatever your scripture(s) for the day may be, read those words out loud. Seriously, out loud. I almost always catch something differently when I hear myself say it. Listen to the cadence. Catch unusually lovely (or just unusual) phrases. Ask questions of what is happening or being said, and let those questions shape the prayers and responses.
Tell it
Tell a story with your liturgy. Talking about grace? Remind us of moments of grace that began with creation and have happened ever since. Preaching about forgiveness? Craft a prayer with seven instances of shortcoming and then invoke Jesus’ beautiful, challenging, devastating, breathtaking words of seventy times seven. Wind the stories of the Bible with the stories of our culture and the stories of our lives. All of them speak to our experience. Not sure where to start? “In the beginning…”
Say it
Liturgy is meant to be spoken, so say it as you write it. I rarely write more than a sentence or two before reading it out loud. If a sentence is too long, if you stumble over some structure — cut it and begin again. While a complex sentence may read beautifully on paper, in liturgy it must also be easy on the ears. And take advantage of things that are pleasing — alliteration, repetition, patterns, effective uses of pauses and silence.
Say it (part two)
Has it been a hard week? Has something happened in your congregation that has broken your collective heart? Are your people angry? Does the scripture passage make no sense whatsoever? Does it seem to ask too much of us? Don’t be afraid to speak the honest truth in the liturgy. There’s nothing particularly holy about having all the answers or having the best theological vocabulary. Giving voice to the thoughts and emotions and questions running through your head may invite others to engage in the same way. It can be a gift. Careful warning: don’t forget the Good News. When lament is called for, lament away. But even the psalmist, who is a champion lament-er, always ends with a word of hope, however fragile it may be. And if it is one of those days when death is everywhere, speak resurrection. Give voice to the promise over and over. Put that hope into the air, let it hoover around you, and let it hold you (and your people) tight.
Rephrase it
Some friends disagree with this practice, but I often rephrase God’s words or Jesus’ words. Not because they need an editor, but because we need to hear them in as many ways as possible. I have often summarized the overall point (as best I understand it, anyway), and put it in my own language, even going so far as to say, for instance, “And in response, Jesus simply says, ‘Knock it off.’” Never once has someone come to me, confused about whether or not the bible actually reports it that exact way.
Related note: it’s also very effective to occasionally lift up what Jesus doesn’t say. That can be just as helpful. Case in point:
God doesn’t say, “Come to me, all you who are of perfect pedigree and rosy cheeks, you who have done no wrong and you whose hearts are entirely intact.” God doesn’t say, “Come to me, all you who have it all together, you who have never said a hateful word and you who wake up every day with all the answers.” God does not say that. What God does say is, “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” What God does say, over and over again, is, “Come to me, all you who are broken and battered, faulty and frail, disappointed and disappointing. Come to me. You will be my people, and I will be your God.”
Unpolish it
I’ve inferred this all along, but it’s still worth saying: write your liturgy carefully, prayerfully, and honestly . . . and then unpolish it. This means two things. First, be sure your liturgy doesn’t sound too smooth. Too certain. Too easy. Too much like “everyone here has it all together.” Because let’s be honest: that’s incredibly unattractive. Not to mention totally untrue. And second (remembering that these are my guidelines and not necessarily yours), occasionally depart from tried and true words of tradition, perhaps the fancy-pants, five-syllable, theological-dictionary language. Or, if you’re going to use those five-syllable words, use much easier words to explain those concepts. In other words, don’t get hung up on sounding professionally, profoundly pious. Just focus on sounding real. Remember, things that are too polished can be slippery and hard to hang on to.
Believe it
If you lead worship with the same intonation you use when you ask someone to pass the green beans, I’m not going to be convinced you have any idea what’s so good about the Good News. Does this mean crazy-cheesy-fake-happy all the time? No, thank you. Let your voice match the truth of your words, whether it’s sad, elated, lost, or grateful. You’re proclaiming the Gospel even through your liturgy. For heaven’s sake (and all of ours), say it like you mean it.
Here’s an example from Easter, since, as it turns out, I’m better at writing liturgy than writing about writing liturgy.
In the beginning of all days
In the very beginning
It was dark
And chaos hovered over the earth
And you, O God, spoke a word
And light crept in from the corners
And creation began to dance
In the beginning of this day
In the earliest morning hours
It was dark
And chaos hovered over the earth and in our hearts
And you, O God, spoke a word
And light crept in from an empty tomb
And creation began to dance
The word, in both cases, was life
Your word, in all cases, is life
He is risen
Christ is risen
And yet, God,
even as we rejoice and sing and celebrate
we realize for many, the shadows of life have not faded in the morning sun
So we pray your peace for those who laugh and sing
and for those who sit and weep
We pray your peace for those who chase Easter eggs and chocolate bunnies
and for those who chase broken dreams or unrealistic expectations
We pray your peace for those who place flowers on a cross this morning
and for those who stare at flowers from a hospital bed this afternoon
We pray your peace for those who believe in the power of the resurrection
and yet face another day without a loved one
Peace be with you, Jesus says
Peace be with you, Jesus promises
Look at me, he says
I know what it is to hurt
He entered our story so well, God
He entered our story and changed the world
That’s Easter
So help us enter his story
And change the world yet again
That would be Easter, too, wouldn’t it?
Help us to be a people whose very lives speak this truth:
death is not the last word
violence is not the last word
hate is not the last word
condemnation is not the last word
betrayal is not the last word
failure is not the last word
No: each of them are like rags left behind in a tomb,
and from that tomb,
you come.*
Alive
Speaking, showing, sharing life
Help us do the same, won’t you?
Help us be your tangible proof to the world
That would be no less an Easter miracle
Creation began in a dance, O God,
and you have made us to sparkle in the sun
So help us get there
Trusting you will, and placing our lives in the hands of Life Eternal,
we pray as he taught us, saying:
Our Father . . .
* Words in italics are borrowed, with gratitude, from Brian McLaren’s Prayer for Pastors. (When you stumble across good words, use them (with attribution at least in printed form). Good words are always worth repeating.
Jenny has been serving alongside the people of Village Church since September of 2012. She loves the way the church cares for one another and for the community, giving great attention to any and all issues of the heart. She loves stories (listening and telling) and believes that questions are an essential part of faith. Originally from Michigan, Jenny is a graduate of Kenyon College and Union Presbyterian Seminary. She has served churches in Ann Arbor and Virginia Beach. She lives with her dog, Reilly, who is dedicated to chasing the squirrels of Prairie Village.
by Sharon Core
The Busboys and Poets Liturgical Collective takes the Presbyterian belief of connectionalism seriously! One day, while meeting at Busboys and Poets (Shirlington; Arlington, VA), three Presbyterian ministers wondered why there weren’t more collaborative efforts among churches, especially when it came to planning worship. These three ministers also acknowledged that as solo pastors, having others to meet and plan with would be a godsend! The three congregations and their ministers were: Arlington Presbyterian Church (Sharon Core), Church of the Covenant (Beth Goss) and Clarendon Presbyterian Church (David Ensign).
Working with Advent texts, the collective wrote liturgy that each congregation used during the four Sundays of Advent. Each congregation took responsibility for a Sunday—choosing hymns, prayers, responsive readings and “practicing the faith” opportunities. In addition to writing liturgy together, the three congregations shared preachers. On the first and fourth Sundays of Advent, each minister was in her/his own pulpit and on the second and third Sundays preached in the other two pulpits.
The Collective expanded for Lent, inviting Fairlington Presbyterian Church (Leslianne Braunstein) and NEXT Church director Jessica Tate. For the Lenten season, the collective is focusing on Lent as a journey as we follow the journey of Jesus. Again, each congregation/person is taking responsibility for a Sunday, writing the liturgy that each church will share. In addition to the Sundays of Lent, there are also cooperative efforts for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday worship.
Future plans include sharing worship during the summer—Memorial Day, July 4, and Labor Day.
Questions? Contact any member of the collective: Leslianne Braunstein (Leslianne@LBraunstein.us), Sharon Core (pastor@arlingtonpresbyterian.org), David Ensign (revdocdee@gmail.com), Susan Graceson (sgraceson@hotmail.com), Beth Goss (JBethGoss@aol.com), or Jessica Tate (revjetate@gmail.com).
Sharon Core is pastor of Arlington Presbyterian Church.