Remembering in Five #reverb10

In a year full of ordinary days and moments and the little things that we do and quickly forget… here is to taking five minutes to capture what we shouldn’t forget.

  • snow disc golf at Lincoln Park in Belle Plaine… we bundled up and had a ton of fun romping in the snow =)  I actually shot pretty good as well!
  • my ordination… that is one thing that I probably couldn’t forget… and I’ve talked about it already in these prompts
  • our family trip to Hawaii – just being there with all of those wonderful people was amazing but there were also a few highlights of this particular trip:  Pearl Harbor with Brandon, spending some time driving on the west coast of the island, the extraordinarily difficult hike up Koko Head Crater, the ways that Brandon and DJ bonded with each other
  • our time at Lake Okoboji… lots of storms, lots of adult beverages, wind, water, and far too much food!!!

Wow – was that really only five minutes?

The time went far more quickly than I would have imagined.  If according to the prompt for today’s reverb10 post:
Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.
There are a lot of things that I didn’t get a chance to write about. So many memories that would have slipped away.  It makes me want to do it over… to try to pack as much in as I possibly can so that I really won’t forget.
Ready: go!
  • snow disc golf
  • my ordination
  • breakfast before my ordination with the Pickens/Liles/Dawsons
  • Hawaii with the Pickens
  • Koko Head Crater
  • Pearl Harbor
  • Lake Okoboji
  • watching my neice and nephews grow up
  • putting my little nephew to sleep
  • learning to crochet
  • making three blankets for the niece and nephews
  • taking my brother to Kansas
  • “come to the table”
  • disc golfing this summer with the guys
  • our wednesday night worship service
  • planning worship with Sean for the order’s gathering
  • going to the Iowa/Penn State game with my dad
  • crock pot pizza
  • awesome carrot cake
  • painting the church fellowship hall and getting to pick all the colors
  • upgrading the church’s technology (new televisions and computer)
  • really diving into Twitter
  • Advent Blog Tour
  • my ordination hot pink and blue monkey
  • Clergy Benefits Conference
  • Roller Derby with Allison
  • our young clergy lunches
  • Ben and Kayla’s wedding (and all that it entailed!)
  • Christmas with the Pickens
  • Thanksgiving with my family and the Dawsons
  • Gma Mardell’s death/funeral

That was a bit more to include… a few more highlights and lowlights of this year.  A whole bunch of things that I had completely forgotten that were a part of this twenty-ten experience for me.  Really important things that I need to keep with me.  Thanks for the opportunity…

Setting the Table: The Silverware

Sing vs. 1 & 3 from “For One Great Peace” #2185 in The Faith We Sing
This is small part, in one small place, of one heart’s beat, for one great peace.
Sitting in the kitchen this week and helping with the United Methodist Women’s supper reminded me of the small part all of us have to play in this church. Some took up a knife to chop vegetables and others turned the crank on the ham salad. Some took up their usual post at the sink to wash dishes. Some found themselves in a familiar role serving drinks. Some set the tables. Some cleared the tables. Some served the food. Some cut the desserts. Each one had a small part… and each one of those small parts was absolutely necessary for the whole thing to happen.

This is small part, in one small place, of one heart’s beat, for one great peace.

Just as the supper could not have happened without all of those parts working together, neither could our church have survived 166 years in this place, without the body of Christ working together.

Not one of us was a part of this church when it began. Not a single one of us was a part of its founding. Or you would be really really old!!!

No, every single one of us was either born into this community or came to it of our own free will… possibly we were dragged here by our parents. =)

But as each of you have come through the doors, something about this community led you to stay. And I think that something has to do with more than just a friendly face or a smile and a handshake. I believe that you stayed because you realized that you had a part to play. You stayed because you were invited to be a part of the Body of Christ.

Note, I said invited… not forced, not coerced… not preyed upon by the lay leadership committee like vampires who smelled fresh blood. We must confess that does happen at times.

No, you stayed, and didn’t run screaming for your life… because you were invited to play a part. You stayed because this church had something to offer and because you found a way to offer back. You stayed and became the body of Christ.

And for those of you who are just coming through our doors for the first time this morning – I pray that you might find that part to play also.

This is small part, in one small place, of one heart’s beat, for one great peace.

The apostle Paul reminds the community in Rome and reminds each one of us here today that God has given us a part to play.

“Take your everyday, ordinary life – your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking around life – and place it before God as an offering,” he writes.

“It’s important that you not misinterpret yourselves as people who are bringing this goodness to God. No, God brings it all to you.”

“Since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be.”

Do your small part, in this small place, your one heart’s beat, for one great peace.

You see, the body of Christ in this place is made up of each of those excellently formed parts you were made to be. And for the last 77 years or so… you have been doing that. You have played your parts. You have been teachers. You have been listeners. You have been check-writers. You have hammered nails and painted walls. You have dried tears. You have planted seeds. You have lead others. You have each played your part.

When we set the table this morning with this silverware, it is because we bring before God all of the ways that we have served our Lord in the past.

Just as spoons and forks and knives all have different roles to play in helping us to eat… so we have been working along side one another as we have served God.

Take out those index cards you were given at the start of the service. Whether we are new to the faith or have been part of it since before we could speak, we each have some way that we have served the Lord. I want you to take your note card and share each of those ways you, personally, have played your part. Did you share leadership? Did you pray for others? Are you someone who is quick to offer help? Have you played a supporting role? What part of this body of Christ are you?

Take a minute to write down those things God has called you to share.

This is small part, in one small place, of one heart’s beat, for one great peace.

We each have a part to play, just as if we were forks, knives and spoons. God has set each one of us here with particular gifts and strengths to use.

But that also means that we have weaknesses. We have some things that we are not so good at. Just as a fork makes a lousy tool when we are trying to eat soup and a spoon doesn’t have a sharp edge to cut with… each one of us lacks certain gifts and talents.

As Paul writes to the Romans – each of us find our meaning and function as a part of Christ’s body. “But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn’t amount to much, would we?… let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t.”

You see, part of being the Body of Christ is recognizing that you are a fork and not a spoon. Part of being the Body of Christ is realizing that we need one another.

I for one have lots of things that I am not called to do.

I am not a details person. I can see the big picture and how things flow and can give a general impression about something… but I tend to forget about the small details that make the thing work.

And while I have been blessed with the ability to clean up messes without getting squeamish – I come completely undone around creepy crawly jumpy things.

This morning, I went to use the bathroom in our downstairs level and lifted up the toilet lid. There, on the seat, was a frog.

I had no idea how it got there, what it was doing, or what I was going to do about it. I just kind of stood there dumbfounded for a few minutes, until the cats realized something was up. Tiki, our big fat orange cat, walked up to the toilet… thinking he might drink out of it… when he noticed the frog. He batted, the frog leaped, I yelped and chaos ensued. The cats chased the frog around the bathroom and laundry room for a few minutes before I ran upstairs to my husband, absolutely freaking out.

I am not good around creepy crawly jumpy things. And I know it.

Part of being a part of the body of Christ is being honest about our weaknesses so that other people know where they are needed.

Working together, we have to let each other’s strengths to shine. We have to get out of the way in the places where we are weak so that we have the energy to do what we do best.
To be the body of Christ – we need to live out and embody those things we know and do best… but then we need to get out of the way. We need to let others teach us and help us. We need to give others a chance to lead. We need to practice saying, I need you.
Part of what we acknowledge when we come to the table is that as forks, we are not spoons. As knifes, we are not forks. I want you to flip that card of yours over and put a star on it somewhere. And then I want you to write down on that side of the card something that someone else here in the church has done for you. Some way that another person stepped up and lived out their part in the body of Christ. Some way that you couldn’t serve because it’s not who God made you to be.
Saying, “I need help,” is a difficult thing to do in the middle of a rural German community. But it is what Christ calls us to. Get out of the way and let others do their work. Be honest about your weaknesses. But then, lend a hand when your gifts are called for. It is not a sign of failure… it is a sign of true community.

This is small part, in one small place, of one heart’s beat, for one great peace.

And when each of our small parts get together, when each of the small things we can do add up… God works among us in amazing ways.

the world is my parish…

There is this saying sometimes about Methodists… that we’ll marry and bury anyone.  And in my little town, I guess that is true.

Most of the weddings that I have officated in these past three years have not been church members.

Most of the funerals I have presided over have not been church members.

I understand and honor and respect the traditions and policies of the other churches in town. There are good reasons for asking couples to belong to the church before they get married within in.  There are reasons that in lay terms we call it “Christian burial.”  As pastors, we invoke… or at least name the presence of God in these sacred and holy moments and ideally, the person or couple would want God there and would hold to our beliefs about God as well.

But that is not always the case.

A couple does not always have a church home or a background in the faith.  An individual or a family may have fallen away from church or may want nothing to do with the church in their final days.  And yet, I get a phone call that my services are needed… and I try my best to respond.

I cringe at the idea that the church is a place where religious services are provided.  I hate the consumer implications of such a statement.  So, as I started typing that last paragraph and the idea of a supermarket came into my head, I started to go back and change it a bit.

But I can’t… because when I get the phone call from the funeral home or from a young (or old) couple… I hear more than a request for services.  I hear an invitation to be in relationship.  I hear the voice of a person who is seeking the presence of God. They might not fully understand what that means, but they are inviting me into a relationship with them and together we get to discover how God is moving in their lives.

When I talk with my congregation members about what our church is about, one of the first things that they mention is our open communion table.  The fact that everyone is welcome to come and participate.  And one of the second things they mention is that our church is open to the people of our community and that we will go and sit with families that are not a part of our church when their loved one has died… that we will get the ladies together and put on a funeral dinner… that we will open our doors to a couple who wants to join their lives together in marriage.

John Wesley might have meant something very different when he said, “The world is my parish.”  But I understood him to mean that his minstry was not limited to a local parish.  His ministry was not limited to the people who sat in the pews every Sunday.  His ministry was out in the world. And my ministry belongs to the community as much as it does to my congregation.

upside down and inside out

Today, my brain stopped working.

I was standing at the graveside for a funeral going over the so familiar liturgy and every minute or two, I just flubbed up my words.  The epitome of my exhaustion came when we got to the Lord’s Prayer and I forgot a line.  But because it was at the graveside and because they were presbyterians and not methodists (and said debts and not trespasses) and because I was not mic’d no one really noticed.  Except me.

Okay, okay, it wasn’t that bad.  I did my job just fine.  But I reached my limit, and I knew it.

They say that there will be those days in ministry where everything happens at once.  Pshaw – I thought.  I’m still young and strong.  I’m a runner (or at least I was five days ago before my ministry got in the way).  I have some endurance.  I can do it.

But here I am, sitting on the couch after five days full of good churchy things and all I can say is that I’m really glad the episode of britney/brittany finally finished downloading so I could absolutely turn the brain off and enjoy myself.
There was a baptism, and a wedding rehearsal, and a funeral and a wedding, and a study on revelation, and a budget meeting, we installed a new patio door, and I hosted a church progressive dinner/bible study, and a conference event I helped plan and lead worship for, and another funeral and a bible study… all in the quick span of 5 days.  And by the way – if I can brag a little – my methodist ladies put on the best funeral lunches in the world.
I talked with a friend on Monday afternoon and we realized that we aren’t quite so young anymore. I might still get asked if I’m the granddaughter at the funeral visitation instead of asked if I’m the minister – but I’m not as young as I look.  My back starts to ache after a day standing in heels and it never did when I was the middle schooler with the big clunky shoes.  The ministry comes easier.  The job is absolutely rewarding.  I know I can do this job.  Just please, Lord, not so much of it all at once!!!
I did have a few moments of grace and rest here and there.  I napped for 20 minutes on Sunday afternoon.  We had a guest musician/speaker who led worship on Sunday morning.  McDonald’s Mocha Frappe is actually a pretty good substitute for a good frozen espresso drink when there is no coffee shop in sight. The rest stop on I-80 where I got out and walked around (to keep from falling asleep) was really clean and had a restored prairie area.  And our church newsletter was taken over by a lay person – hallelujah.

Sabbath and rest is something that I take seriously, but I also recognize that there needs to be flexibility in the schedule of a pastor.  And that means that I’m totally out of commission after youth group tomorrow night.  I’m leaving the state.  Getting away with family to celebrate a new start for my brother.  I’m looking forward to a long car ride with chex mix and laughter… and maybe some weird al yankovic if I can find the old tapes. My batteries are long overdue for an old school recharge.

pause button

I know, its been a while since I posted last.  I have five posts lined up in the queue waiting to go, but I haven’t had time to work on them.

The next installment of the “Postmodern Church and the Farmlands of Iowa” is what is holding everything up.  One book needs to be read and digested before that post can go live.  Keep checking back!!!

Postmodern Church and the Farmlands of Iowa… Part 3

In this installment, I want to talk about some of the “best practices” that I see coming out of emerging, missional, and postmodern churches. Some of these practices are mentioned in Diana Butler Bass’ book, Christianity for the Rest of Us, but they also come from Kester Brewin’s, Signs of Emergence. A few of the “best practices” are ones that I have been introduced to as I have been in conversation with pastors across the country.

First, I think in emergent churches there is a deep shift towards becoming a community of practitioners. Rather than offering services to be consumed, these congregations invite individuals to become a part of a communal pilgrimage. Or as Dan Kimball claims, the emerging church will have to teach people “that they are the church and that they don’t simply attend or go to one.”

Faith becomes “a craft learned over time in community,” according to Bass, as she describes the Seattle Church of the Apostles which takes seriously this communal pilgrimage. Realizing that many in the community had no experience whatsoever with Christianity, they developed a process called The WAY, focused on creating pilgrims rather than members. In the year long journey, “the goal is to help them at their own pace to come into a living relationship with Jesus Christ that takes over the center of their life.”

As I have seen this lived out, on the ground, many emergent faith communities are actually small groups that are connected to more institutional churches.  In some ways, I think of them as that magic 10% of the people who get it and who really want to live out their faith.  As Taylor Burton Edwards has talked about Wesleyan missional groups and accountability groups and class meetings – in some ways he has encouraged people to focus on those people who want to take the deeper plunge. Their journey and witness can become a catalyst for other transformations in the lives of your congregation members and in people completely unconnected to the church. Praxis rather than doctrine rules this shift.
Another “best practice” is that these churches take seriously their location. Kester Brewin describes these churches as adaptable systems that resist standardization. While the modern scientific perspective took something from one context and directly applied it to another, the postmodern realizes that cookie cutter ministry will not work and that each church needs to be authentic to its own location.

For example, Bass describes an Episcopal church that began a Hispanic congregation for new immigrants. In their worship practices, and especially in communion, they felt they needed to pay attention to what it means to be “home”:

Think of the joy of going home to the house you grew up in, with the smell of your mother’s cooking in the kitchen, the tastes of food, the sounds of family. Here, like your mother’s table, the Lord’s table welcomes you home. Here we are an extended family in the Spirit through communion. You are all members of God’s house.

That might seem comforting to us who fondly remember what it is like to be gathered around a parent’s dinner table.  But how much more welcoming is it for a community of people who are far from the homes they grew up in.  How much more inviting is that statement for a people who are creating a new home in unfamiliar territory.  When you are disoriented and alone, the reminder that God welcomes us into a wider family is powerful.  The goal is not to market to a specific audience or offer a product; rather the church must look seriously at how the gospel comes alive within the experiences of the people.

In Indianapolis last year, I was able to immerse myself in the Earth House Collective and Lockerbie Central United Methodist Church.  They recognized that their neighborhood was quickly changing and that their dying congregation needed to adapt.  So they transformed their basement into a restaurant and their fellowship space into a coffee shop and they tore out the pews and in addition to Sunday night worship, they host plays, dance performances, movies, and concerts.  Their church became a community center and thousands of people come in through their doors each year. That is not something that I can just transplant into a rural community – but it authentically came from their location near the Indy arts district.

The third thing that I find imporant in these churches is their spirit of discernment. Brewin describes this as creative waiting:

So against our hasty judgment, and in God’s scientific wisdom, before we can experience the transformation that is vital to our survival, we will be required to wait. To be acted on gently, gracefully, and peacefully. Shaped, not crushed; guided, not dragged.

The Church of the Epiphany in Washington, D.C. has adopted the more traditional Quaker practice of open worship.  They are asking what God wants for them as a church by listening together in small groups. They gather to hear the truthfulness of God. There are no speeches, no panel discussions, and no debates here, only the deeply countercultural act of silence… When ready, someone shares… the speaker, who is never interrupted by the group, tries to focus the presentation on God’s presence in the midst of these concerns.

This practice is about deep openness to change rather than the modern church’s resistance to it. Just imagine if a congregation was able to say, “just because we’ve never done it that way before, doesn’t mean we can’t.” Bass reminds us that the Christian story is about metanoia or “the change of heart that happens when we meet God face-to-face.” To deny this, is to deny our calling.

Finally, these congregations live with “both/and.” This is the postmodern notion of being comfortable with paradox and contradiction, yet it is also deeply Christian. When asked what he had learned during his long life about the Christian journey, Elton Trueblood responded with the word “and”:

It is good and bad; it is made up of life and death; it is being close to God and sometimes distant… It is the task of the Christian to live in the ‘and,’ in the ambivalence of life.

All the vital congregations Bass studied lived in this tension. They were “creative and traditional, risk-taking and grounded, confident and humble, open and orthodox.” The church I interned with in Nashville, Tennessee was large enough that some of those tensions were felt.  We were a fairly diverse group of folks – liberal and conservative, traditional and yet also willing to try new things.  A small and powerful worship service began on the fourth floor of the building in an old theater space and I think for a year and a half – the folks who gathered there really lived in that tension of the “both/and.”

These four characteristics are what have inspired me about the praxis and theology of the emergent church.  I find in each of them deep biblical roots and have seen the transformation that occurs when they are allowed to take center stage in communities and congregations. But for the most part – that happened in urban contexts, in population centers, with resources like money and talent and time to help foster them.

What happens when the theology and practice are transported to a small county seat town in Iowa?  Stay tuned…

Postmodern Church and the Farmlands of Iowa… Part 2

So, the first thing I want to tackle is some semblance of a definition.  What on earth are we talking about when we say “postmodern” and “emergent.”

The simple answer is that there isn’t a simple answer.

In The Emerging Church, Dan Kimball describes the post modern world as:

An emerging and developing worldview and culture pursuing what is beyond modernity. It holds there is no single universal worldview. Therefore, truth is not absolute and many of the qualities embraced by modernism no longer hold the value or influence they once did. It can still be defined as we like, since it is still forming and developing. (The Emerging Church, 58)

Fundamentally, postmodernism is a reaction to the modern world.  And the modern world was itself a response to a premodern world (something we quickly forget). The main thing we want to consider is the idea that the modern person believes that reason leads to universal truths and that power and faith can be placed in both reason and science. Now, the words reason and science don’t sound like terms we throw around a lot in rural congregations… but the fact that we organize our thoughts into universal truths absolutely appears.

The main way that modern people do this is through metanarratives, a term coined by Jean-Francois Lyotard. These are overarching stories that make sense of the world and place everything in context. Whether this is the notion of Progress or Communism, Democracy or Christianity, these narratives claim to be objectively true for all people.

That sounds mighty nice.  But the problem, as Heath White points out is:

Modernism, with its emphasis on reason, insists on resolving or eliminating the differences between people. But this leads eventually to coercion, oppression, domination, cruelty, and abuse of one form or another. Anyone who believes in One True Culture – one right way of doing things – is, knowingly or not, a closet tyrant. (Postmodernism 101 , 43.)

The postmodern person is someone who has lost faith and trust in reason and these metanarratives precisely because they have failed. They have become aware that these conflicting metanarratives cannot all be “True” (note, that was with a capital “T”) and they recognize that other narratives, cultures and peoples have been suppressed by them. Thus, postmodernism is the rejection of absolute, objective moral, social and political claims.

A great example of this is the theory that claims if we spread democracy abroad, then conflicts in areas like the Middle East will be solved.  However, we fail to take into account that democracy evolved out of a specific Western religious and cultural context.  Simply implanting that metanarrative onto another context has proved to be next to impossible. And that doesn’t even get into the question of whether it is moral or ethical to impose one way of doing government onto another people.

The problem for people of faith is that the Judeo-Christian worldview is precisely one of the metanarratives that is called into question through this deconstruction of modern thought. And here the church folk run screaming away from anything labeled “post-.”  What we have to remember, however,  is that this critique of metanarratives does not mean that we are flat out rejecting God or the faith that we have carried.  Instead, what the postmodern Christian is aware of is that their narrative is not alone in the world, nor does it have a monopoly on the truth, nor is there a single, universal way of being Christian in the world.
Of course, the first obstacle that pops up into my mind, and the first response of my folks in the pews is: What about Jesus – doesn’t he say he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life?
Yes, Jesus does.  But what it means for Christ to be “the truth”… that’s exactly what we are trying to figure out. Is it capital “T” Truth?  Is it truth for me?  Is it a rational truth that I must assent to or a truth about a way to live my life? Is it the only truth? Are there other truths? And if so, is Jesus a part of them, also?  (If you have ever heard the story of the five blind men and the elephant… you get the idea of where this can go)

While, in the modern world, symbols pointed to exactly what they represented and had one meaning, in a postmodern worldview symbols, language, and culture are all deconstructed. Postmoderns are comfortable with paradox and look for inherent contradictions, something Heath White describes as irony. Or as Dave Tomlinson puts it:

image and reality are so deeply intertwined that it is difficult to draw the line between the two. (The Post Evangelical, 75 )

What is symbolic?  What is reality?  Can we change the symbols and convey the same truth? In another culture will the same symbol carry a completely different meaning? And with this slew of questions, we look around and find Santa on a cross, Garth Brooks doing pop music, and Buddhist-Christians. Or perhaps, in the more common manifestations, we have a lack of denominational loyalty, church shopping, spiritual but not religious folks, and self-help preaching masquerading as the gospel.

In this postmodern and post-Christian climate, it is no wonder people are confused.  As he describes the effects of such cafeteria style choices, White writes:

All this borrowing, stealing, adding, subtracting, grafting, and splicing of traditions leave postmoderns without ‘roots’ in the sense that anyone raised in a premodern culture might have had them. There is no all-embracing, unquestioned and unquestionable cultural envelope that keeps them secure in one way of doing things. They have traded roots for freedom and choice because, after all, deep roots keep you stuck in one place. (White, 129)

Diana Butler Bass also describes this sense of rootlessness, using phrases like “spiritual nomads” or “strangers in a strange land.” (Christianity for the Rest of Us, 22-23.)

Okay, so we have this background of metanarratives being dismantled and people feeling rootless and not knowing quite where to turn… and we have (I fear) a church that is still stuck in a modern mindset. We are still trying to fit people into molds, we are still proclaiming metanarratives, we have five-point plans of salvation. EEEK!

This might be where some many most churches are… but this is also where the “emergent church” movement comes in. There are so many books and blogs and youtube videos out there, but one resource that really stuck out to me was the book Christianity for the Rest of Us.  In it, Diana Butler Bass points us toward the reclaimed role of the church.

Rather than proclaim a new metanarrative, she believes we are to invite one another into the life of the Christian faith. For White, we can do so through sharing and experiencing the promises we have received from God – not hoping that things will get better through natural progress (aha – there science and reason poke their heads in again), but trusting that “in the face of death, we have the promise of resurrection” (White, 155).

I stumbled across a blog post today (after this had been up for a bit) by Tom Sherwood about the postmodern critique of Christianity, which is entirely fascinating.  This section in particular caught my eye:

One of the distinct differences between the Bible and the other metanarratives mentioned that Lyotard rejects, is that the Bible is based on faith, not universal reason… It is this appeal to faith, along with the liberative character of the narrative that allows the Bible and Christianity to rise above the critique of incredulity toward metanarratives. When the Bible and Christianity become oppressive, or rely too heavily on universal reason, Lyotard’s incredulity towards metanarratives applies…

Correctly understood, the Bible is not a metanarrative. Lyotard would not reject it as a metanarrative, as it is neither inherently oppressive or self-legitimating using universal reason. Instead it is the story of how God works in communities and the history of the Christian story. The Biblical narrative is extremely important to Christianity, but Christians need to take a step back from modernism and look at what can be learned from the ancient Christians. The Bible is a story of faith, it does not rely on universal reason to prove what it says. Instead, the stories are proven true by the people that live out the continuation of the story.

For Bass, that is exactly the role of the church: to transform lost spiritual nomads into Christian pilgrims.

In order to do so, the church must hold together tradition, practices and wisdom with a keen self-awareness. It must remember Barth’s claim that the church takes no one social form and that “every institution is affected by the culture in which it lives and especially the culture in which it was born” (White, 14). The church must allow its style, practices and doctrines to change as it attempts to be faithful to God in particular contexts and  among particular peoples.

Doug Pagitt has a new book out called Church in the Inventive Age that I need to get my hands on.

He would change that list I made above of style, practices and doctrine and talk instead about our cognitive beliefs, our values, our tools/structures, and our aesthetics. He rightly points out that when you start to mess with any one of those, folks get downright uncomfortable.  But I think in some ways, he is pointing to the fact that our doctrines, our values, our styles and our structures themselves become idols.

What I am interested in are the congregations that have discovered ways to acknowledge this postmodern shift within their churches and by doing so they are not only thriving, but are transforming lives as they attempt to be faithful to the gospel. In part 3, we will look at some of what we can learn from some of the churches that “get it.”

Postmodern Church and the Farmlands of Iowa… Part 1

In our final year at Vanderbilt Divinity School, we work on the crowning glory of our graduate work: our seminar paper.  As I sat down three years ago to write this work, I was very interested in how I might take all that I had learned  and take it back home to Iowa.  I knew I was heading into a rural congregation and I wanted to prepare myself.

During that time at Vandy, my eyes were opened to postmodern culture and theology – particularly manifested in the emerging church movement. I am convinced that this “movement” is not a fad within the church, but a group of individuals and communities who are thoughtfully re-examining their theologies and practices in order to be more faithful to the gospel in their particular place and time. I have begun to be a part of their discussions in small group meetings, conferences, on blogs and through email and every chance that I get to explore what this might mean for the institutional church, especially my United Methodist tradition, invigorates me! I resonate with the ways in which tradition is invited to become organically connected with the present reality of our lives. I find new energy and hope in the emphasis on ritual, community and shared experience. Above all, I have discovered a new framework by which to describe the most meaningful religious experiences of my life.

At the same time, I felt a deep calling to be in ministry in Iowa… which perpetuated a small identity crisis as I tried to figure out how this integration might be possible. Postmodernism was rarely discussed in the churches I grew up in and was often seen more as a threat than a blessing. I am not like the pastors who nurtured my own faith and the “model leaders” who are uplifted and revered by the church culture. I am aware of a deeper, more authentic and communal style of leadership within me and postmodern theology has helped me to claim my own voice and calling as authentic. But the question in the back of my mind was whether the church in Iowa would see it the same way?  This seminar conversation began as I asked myself what God wanted me to bring from my own experience that would be beneficial to the church there?

The reality is that the church itself (mainline, United Methodist, Protestant, small churches, you name it) is in danger of becoming irrelevant. More and more young people are seeking their faith outside of the institutional church – not in a rejection of Christianity, but in an attempt to preserve their own best faithfulness. I have in fact been one of those people, and yet cannot escape a call to remain within my tradition.

Which is possibly why this quote by Karl Barth stood out to me:

To the distinctiveness of its calling and commission, and therefore to the form of its existence as the people of God in [the] world…, there does not correspond in the first instance or intrinsically any absolutely distinctive social form [of the church].

If the church is not authentically living out its calling and commission through its present form, then perhaps in light of postmodernism it does need to be reformed.

At the time, I was interested in how I could take my education, my experiences, and the resources I gained in an urban and academic setting and apply it to rural ministry. I have always understood that it is my duty as a pastoral theologian to help the church hold in tension its tradition and its present reality… while at the same time being faithful to the gospel.  So now, three years later, I want to return to the paper to see what has changed, what I have learned, and where I still want to wrestle. This conversation is my attempt to point to the intersection of postmodern church and rural United Methodist life I discovered, but now, with three years of ministry under my belt, I want to not only imagine what this faithful living might look like, but share what I have learned on the ground.

In the next few weeks, I’ll share some of the various contexts that are at play, some basic background on postmodernism, and what its like to be a congregation in a small town in Iowa. Then we’ll look at the role of theology and practice on the ground.  I hope you’ll join me – and if you have any questions or want to share your own insights – join in!