Jesus

Confessions of a Former Worship Leader

Corporate worship, about two years ago I walked away from it. Praise music on Sundays, youth on Wednesdays—after years and years, I said goodbye to it all. I didn’t loose faith, nor did I sin my way into shame, I just burned out. My feelings, my doubts, the weight of it all just bubbled up.

Like so many others before me, I was hurt by the church and left because of it. Hurt, though, is part of any relationship; it’s what we sign up for. As time went on, I realized my hiatus was less about mending hurt feelings and more about uncovering hidden ones.

This blog offers some food for thought about worship. Issues that bug me, stuff I’ve come to terms with. While I don’t wish to offend anybody, I do wish to start a conversation. So, here it goes.

This Isn’t a Concert?

Worship leaders deal with a lot of weird stuff. There’s this pressure, this weight. We’re told that God is the priority, that Jesus is the reason. “It’s not a performance,” we’re told. “It’s a Godcert.”

Then, we’re given a microphone and put under lights. We’re in a room, with a stage, built like a performance center. Songwriters exist in just about every church, yet only Top 40s worship is allowed. Keep the drums low, pick familiar songs, fill your time slot.

Isn’t worship so freeing! No, no, not really.

Since Christian musicians can’t call what they do a concert, or performance, or take any credit, they look for confirmation where they can get it. In my day, I’d count raised hands, or note those having an “experience.” Every worship leader does this. They’re lying if they say they don’t. The problem with this system is that we inevitably pander our services towards gaining such responses, both consciously and subconsciously.

Things get shallow, fast.

It’s not us, we say. It’s God. Then we pat ourselves on the back for having a good show, I mean set, I mean God is good, all the time.

Warship 

This is the part of the conversation where someone reminds me that worship doesn’t have to be in musical form, in a church. I agree. In fact, I’d counter back and say that worship was never meant to be in musical form, in a church, but a life-long commitment. Singing in church, I believe, is just an act of unison between believers, an act of commodore.

Singing brings us together. It builds bridges. It reminds us of the hope we stake our claim in. It blurs out the differences and clarifies the similarities. It’s for us!

Why have we labeled it worship?

Fellowship, our meetings, is about loving and learning from each other in the name of Jesus. It’s about community, communion, and communication. It’s about learning HOW to worship.

There’s this individualistic “experience” in worship that everyone wants now. People my age flock to church in hopes of getting spiritually high so they can last another week. Ultimately, this is what pulled the plug for me.

We, us worship leaders, hypnotize our churches with chanting and self-indulgent “improvisation” until our congregations are blue in the face. We execute drum build-ups in musical bridges like clock-work—always before the last chorus—for a high user “experience” return rate. We have it down.

Then we say, “God did it,” and I punch a figurative hole in a figurative wall.

Rain Down on Me

The quality of Christian musicianship has never been better. It’s not uncommon for me to buy a CD from time to time. I’m not asking for churches to stop what they’re doing. I’m just saying we call it what it is, a Christian concert. No weird pressure, no mental breakdowns, no expectations. Let church be church and concerts be concerts. People can skip the concert if they want to and not be chastised for it.

After all, worshiping God is a life-long sacrifice, not a thirty minute music set. Washing feet, serving in love, praying for others, this worship is true.

Worship God on your own time.

What are your thoughts?

Further Reading:

Killing the Program: Further Thoughts on Worship

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Life in the Spiritual Fast Lane

Spiritual fasting. What do you think about it? Does it intrigue you? Personally, the thought of it makes me hungry, a bad sign. Fasting is definitely not my strong suit.

Recently, I read Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse. The second book of Hesse’s I’ve read, and admittedly my first on Buddhism, Siddhartha follows a fictional character (paralleling the real Siddhartha Gautama) who throughout his life searches for oneness and truth.

My upbringing has taught me to read all non-Christian, even non-evangelical, religious material with a filter. This filter acts less like a screen door and more like an actual door. Closed all the time.

As I’ve aged in spirit and body, I’ve come to realize that much can be learned from other religions. We all yearn for God. If a life-long monk wanted to take me out for coffee, or better yet, donuts, then you can bet I would take his offer. I’d probably even have to pay and I would still take his offer. I love donuts. I love talking about God with donuts.

This theoretical monk has spent his life learning to fast, learning to think, learning to be less. I would love to hear his insight, wouldn’t you? Just because religious roads differ, this doesn’t mean travelers can’t bump into each other every now and then. And get donuts.

Consumerism, Buddhism, & Ism-ism

Fasting was never pushed on me. I’m not blaming anyone else for my ignorance towards it, but let’s just say that the culture I grew up in simply didn’t value it. “It’s more of an Eastern thing,” I would hear or, “Just don’t tell any one about it.”

Regardless of how I got here, I’m here now. I believe that Americans have much to gain from learning to fast.

Our eyes have been purchased by the cinema of must-have.

Our hearts foster inward desires over the outward love of Christ.

Our bodies sleep best in a commonplace of complacency.

What if consumerism was just another powerless foe? What if we could break the paradigm? I wonder about a world where Western Christians could chose others before themselves, every day, with every dollar and every minute.

In the book, the young adult Siddhartha wishes to go into business with a merchant. The merchant asks Siddhartha what he can do. Siddhartha replies, “I can think. I can wait. I can fast.”

“… fasting, what good does it do?”

This is my favorite part:

It is very good, sir. If a person has nothing to eat, then fasting is the wisest thing he can do. If, for instance, Siddhartha had not learned how to fast, he would have to accept any service today, whether with you or with someone else, for hunger would force him to do so. But now Siddhartha can simply wait, he knows no impatience, he knows no plight. He can stave off hunger for a long time and he can laugh at it. That, sir, is what fasting is good for.

So what do you think, is it time Westerners start fasting? Can we still have donuts? Since I’m new to this whole thing, I hope to learn one or two things in the comments.

The Folly of Academic Faith

A couple nights ago, one of my best friends sent me a text:

I was reading 1st Corinthians the other night and came across one of my favorite verses… it reminds me a lot of you and what I think is a major message you are tying to get across to other Christians.

He had my attention. Finding myself in scripture? I’ve given up on that. I find God; I find ancient people with worn stories. I find context and complexity. I don’t find myself.

I used to, but not anymore.

A side-effect of embracing the academic faith? No doubt. My spiritual journey of debates and alternate perspectives is what I know now.

Why would I be in scripture? I don’t need that any more.

The next text came through and my eyes filled with tears.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but a croaking, rusty gate.

If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

I hesitated sharing this. Have I accomplished this? No way. Has anyone? Probably not.

We don’t find ourselves in scripture, but scripture finds us. It speaks to us. It grabs us and leads us. Scripture reveals the bits and pieces of us that God is shaping.

My friend Scott thought of me when he read this passage of Paul. I was honored, yet felt more like an impostor. I’m no man of love; more often than not, I fall into the “croaking, rusty gate” category.

My attitudes as of late… I think I’ve lost my way.

The Folly of Academic Faith

In these moments, I’m reminded of the folly of academic faith. We get so wrapped up in ideas. We get wrapped up in our heads, in ourselves. Beautiful simplicity—all too often, we forget it.

This last year I’ve been obsessed with meanings: Heaven, Hell, gay marriage, politics, gender roles, you get the idea.

It’s been rewarding—I would say I prefer it—though I must be cautious.

The academic faith. It’s a door to a man-made mansion with rooms added daily. We’ll never fully explore it, nor will we ever find our way back. Unless, of course, we mark our steps with love.

A warning to all of you like me. Though we yearn for debates and arguments, and we feel as if we must always dive to the bottom of every issue and search endlessly for every solution, we must not forget love.

Thank you Scott for sending me those kind words, and the wonderful reminder.

Signed,

 

A Modern Day Pharisee. 

Is the Church a Boys Club?

This weekend we visited some friends in the Bay Area of California. Overlooking the Palace of Fine Arts, we sat in the park and talked faith, church, Star Wars… typical Christian stuff. Most important here, we discussed the roles of women in the church.

My wife, as well as my friend’s girlfriend, had some great wisdom to give. Their perspectives were shared with both frustration and grace. Women are battling issues in the church that men can’t even begin to understand.

(Hey boys!) Have you ever thought about the complexities of being a girl in the church? Do me a favor, next time you go, give every woman you see a high five.

They deserve it.

Since I am a man, I feel that I can solve this issue with a single blog post.

Girlie Stuff

My childhood church was definitely a boy’s club. Male senior pastors, male deacons, male elders. Women were allowed to be sunday school teachers, choir directors, or secretaries, but nothing more.

Paul’s words in 1 Timothy defined my views and 1 Corinthians confirmed them. I say this as if I knew scripture, but to be honest it was bleek. I listened and never questioned the general traditions of my church. Here’s what I knew (and assumed):

Women were not to teach men. Their life goals would consist of learning submission and quietness. Overcoming any resentment held towards men and any hostility held towards God would be their life’s work.

Eventually, I read the bible for myself. I read about Esther, Deborah, Mary, and Ruth. I read Luke. I read the words of Paul. I read context. I listened to wisdom and heard alternate, biblical views. I listened to my wife. I listened to my heart.

All this to say, I’m still sorting stuff out.

Your Mom was Stifled  

I recently read The Blue Parakeet by Scot McNight. In it he talks about the various ways people read the bible. He mentions that everyone picks and chooses scripture; he calls it discernment. The problem, says McNight, is when our discernments become canon and our canon becomes the lens through which we view scripture.

The modern church has done this—it has, we have, shaped our traditions into canon. The stifling of women, I believe, is a prime example Evangelicals need to repent for.

(For more on Scot McNight’s great book, check it out HERE).

I’m not an expert on the subject of women’s roles, but I do hope to continue to learn. So far, this is what I’ve got:

  • The traditional church may be a boy’s club, but the Kingdom of God is not. We all have a purpose and a reason to be here. Seek what’s inside you and let it out.  
  • We are all one in Christ—the curtain was torn, remember? There is no need for division anymore. Men need to teach women, and women need to teach men. 
  • Every faith generation experiences a change of tradition in one form or another (Thinking back to Paul and circumcision, or twenty years ago to the contemporary worship movement). Expect turmoil and kickback. Offer grace, always.

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What’s YOUR response? I encourage all with a perspective to participate. Please know, everyone’s view on the matter is welcome. Is the church a boy’s club? Have women been stifled, or am I making something out of nothing? 

Photo Credit: [http://www.flickr.com/photos/74576085@N00/6335630844/]

5 Reasons to Stay a Christian

I fell upon a christian radio station today.

I’ll usually stay away from these shows altogether. If I want to hear talk, I’ll go AM; FM is for music. Leave me alone.

Feeling a bit curious, I let the station keep. What’s a Monday without a little risk? Historically, I’m the type to keep to myself; whatever meat mainstream christians collectively chew and spit at, I try to leave alone and let them be.

Today though, I thought I’d feel the pulse for a bit.

Gay marriage. Of course. As if it’s the only thing to talk about. As if we don’t believe in anything else. As if Christians couldn’t differ on the issue. As if. (I’m doing my best Alicia Silverstone here).

Are we wrong, are they right? I’m not sure. All I know is that this stupid fight we’ve picked is getting the best of us.

Instead of serving the world, we’re trying to rule it. We’ve become obsessed with winning arguments and asserting political agendas; personally, I’m convinced the Kingdom of God is more than just a lobbying group in Washington. It has to be.

It has to be in the streets. It has to be in our homes. It has to be living and breathing love.

Otherwise, I can live without it.

5 Reasons to Stay A Christian
(For frustrated Christians like me)

1. Jesus, Moses, God, Paul, all instruct us to love our neighbors. No agenda. Staying in community keeps us focused on this goal.

2. There are worthy causes to fight for. How do we know which is which? In peaceful protest, Jesus died for his cause. If it’s not worth your life, is it worth fighting for? Will it save another’s if you do?

3. Agreement isn’t the point; what we need is your voice. Mainstream radio, TV, and mega-churches expect us to vote, argue and tolerate what and how they do. The Family is beautiful in it’s diversity, not sameness.

4. Leaving doesn’t make the statement you think it does. Weakness is not meekness. Doors will shut, ears will close, communication will halt. Change takes time; speak as one who loves and listens.

5. Your tithe can change the world. I used to think tithing was a cop out, but money is a faithful way to serve when you can’t otherwise. These people could use your money (and time and energy as well): Potter’s House, Restore International, World Vision, The Mentoring Project, just to name a few.

I’d love to hear some feedback on this. Can arguments (like gay marriage) distract the purpose and hinder our reach? Or are they worth fighting for?

Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddah, and Mohammed Cross the Road? (Book Review)

13529088Reading a Brian D. McLaren book is very similar to eating an entire lemon marring pie by yourself: it’s sweet at times, troubling at others, a lot to take in and hard to finish. With that being said, his latest venture into disrupting the Christian status-quo, Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddah, and Mohammed Cross the Road, is most likely the best book on theology I’ve ever read.

I’m not saying I agreed with every sentence—or even understood every sentence—but I think McLaren appropriately tackles a giant issue usually ignored and commonly mishandled in the modern Church (that big C is on purpose).

So before I breakdown my review, I will just say: yes, go read this book. It will answer questions, ask even more questions, and cause you to examine, test, and filter your faith in ways you may never have wanted to—though desperately needed to.

Here’s the gist: 

-Friendships with personal agendas are not friendships. If we seek out people only to change them (or convert), then we are not loving missionaries but religious salesmen.

“Shouldn’t it be possible to have a strong Christian identity that is strongly benevolent toward people of other faiths, accepting them not in spite of the religion they love, but with the religion they love?”

-There are generally two views of a Christian multi-faith perspective (three if you include moderate in the middle): Weak/Benign or Strong/Hostile.

“Christians settle on the right side not because they want hostility but because they want a strong faith identity. Christians clutter on the left side not because they want weakness but because they don’t want hostility”

McLaren goes on to say that there could exist a new identity altogether, introducing the main theme of his book: a “Strong/Benevolent” identity.

-Instead of looking for ways to change other people in other religions, we should be healing the body of Christ first. If we are to look to other religions, it should be in ways of working together for the “common good.”

“…the choice to live not for our own selfish interests alone, and not for the groupish interests of our clan or caste or civilization alone, but for the common good, the good of all creation.”

The Good

McLaren doesn’t take the challenge lightly. All the research, arguments and counterarguments are incredibly arranged and well-written.

My favorite spot in the book was his reflection upon Christopher Columbus, Constantine, and the Crusades; how all these horrific figures and events changed the face of Christianity—from that of love to domination and oppression. In consequence, McLaren argues, other religions sprouted; not in opposition to Christ but to his followers and the bloodshed that followed them.

Another quick note was McLaren’s take on Christ himself. Though not demeaning his death and resurrection in any way, he states that if we frame our perspective differently, it will add more value to it.

Was Jesus’ death simply a substitution sacrifice for a bloodthirsty, limited god, or rather, the largest stance of peace on earth ever to be proclaimed, forever changing to fate of history and setting humanity free? (summarized from text).

The Bad

As I first mentioned, the book is a lot to take in. At times, it seems as if McLaren crammed as many cans of worms between the covers as he could find. Many topics are brought into the conversation only to be featured as a sentence, paragraph, footnote, or even chapter; though they add value, they are not fully explored. Some issues may have been better left out entirely instead of the surface depth exploration they were allotted. Some readers may enjoy that aspect, I found it distracting from the core theme.

Speaking of distraction, there are more footnotes than anyone reader could ever really do anything with. He puts them at the bottom of the page; since they are in view, I feel I must read them. By the time I finish with his branching thought, I forgot where I was earlier and get lost. So a little warning: stay away from the footnotes, or rather, at least pick and choose those that interest you.

They are books within books.

Overall

My perfect bible study would revolve around this text. Not because I agree with it all and only want to read what I want to read, but because I think it would be impossible to get enough people to agree on everything in it. And it would be a fun and rewarding challenge for those daring enough to take their faith outside the comfort zone.

And yes, we Christians need to change some things.

My final thought:

Don’t skip this book just because McLaren is labeled “emergent.” Mother Theresa is labeled “catholic,” though I’ve been hearing protestants quote her my whole life. Labels are just a way to keep people from learning from each other and from loving each other.

We’re all just men and women anyways.

Now go buy the book!