(By Jody)
About six weeks ago I quoted from George Wieland’s excellent article in the Baptist Magazine called Guests and Hosts in the Mission of God.
There is a deep‑rooted assumption in many of our church mission efforts that we are in the role of hosts. We invite people into our space, we extend hospitality, and we are willing to share our resources with those who come in. But we hold the power, we exercise control, we are the generous givers and they are the needy recipients.
George goes on to challenge his Baptist readers not to assume the real task is to get people into our spaces and comfort zones so we can minister to them, but to consider the importance of accepting hospitality, being in other people’s spaces.
My experience of Te Reo class; being a guest of the language, the kaiako, and several marae, has been humbling and life-changing. It’s certainly made me realise how comparatively comfortable it can be to be a host, and how vulnerable but blessed it can be to be a guest. But it has also struck me afresh how sacred the host role is when done with generosity and intention.
So today I wanted to explore further our assumptions and values around hosting, getting people into our space, and how it relates to opening up our faith for anyone who might be curious or drawn to Christ Jesus.
While there are some of us who have had good experiences with, and seen God move through, door knocking and bowling up to strangers with questionnaires and booklets, it’s not advocated by the experts in post-Christian contexts like ours. Nor do I sense it’s where our church on the whole wants to resource or be resourced. (Although we should never rule out the possibility that the Spirit of God will prompt us to say or do something overtly stretching-out-Jesus to some person at some time.) Last week we talked about lives of radical transformation that bear witness and invite curiosity, and the excellent point was made in response: do we know how we’d answer curious questions about our lives of faith?
Today I’m interested in how we believe our central gathering can and should function in putting the Good News of Jesus Christ into the hands of those who are exploring faith. Do our services convey the faith that shapes our lives? Would they inspire or dismay a spiritual seeker? I agreed with the comment last week that it’s the task of the community to witness to Jesus – so what role do our weekly gatherings play?
We give the name Church (capital C) to the idea that everyone, everywhere, who joins the Jesus following movement, the Body of Christ, joining something bigger than themselves or the sum of their parts.
But as well as Church we have churches – collections of people in time and place, who connect with each other to support, encourage, learn, and worship, and to give expression to Jesus in their lives and context. This is not to say this that meeting on 10am each Sunday in a building is the only way to be a Christian. But those of us who choose to belong to a church or a faith collective, to situate ourselves in a particular place with particular people, would probably say it’s important or even vital to our faith.
Jesus’ own ministry and witness to God were inseparable from the community he was part of – the people who loved him, misunderstood him, exasperated him, fed him, followed him, and found their way into a new way of being with him after Easter and Pentecost.
The earliest Christian community, not yet called Christian, was as much about life and witness together as it was any kind of structured gathering we might call a church service. Acts 2 says: They committed themselves to the teaching of the apostles, the life together, the common meal, and the prayers. ... And all the believers lived in a wonderful harmony, holding everything in common. They sold whatever they owned and pooled their resources so that each person’s need was met.
As the movement spread, people needed to learn from what had gone before, and grow in the Way of Jesus; needed to celebrate and remind each other of the goodness of God and the seeds of a new world and way of being in their midst, needed encouragement in their struggles and sorrows, needed rituals to shape them and speak for them... all the things we associate with church services.
In the 1990s (or maybe 2000s?) Willow Creek, an American mega-church, popularised the idea of “Seeker Services.” Church services that were not primarily about Christians gathering to express their faith in worship and reflection, but about inviting and encouraging non Christian friends, introducing them to the beliefs and motivations of Jesus followers, letting them know how faith could change their lives for the better. I distinctly recall thinking it was ridiculous, as a young theology student, because if you weren’t a Christian why on earth would you spend your Sunday morning in a church service?!
One critic (Pastor Jeff VanGoethem) explains on his church blog:
Seeker churches presume that many are “turned off” to the traditional way church is done elsewhere and want to do it a different way, a way they believe is relevant to the needs of the person who is seeking God but unchurched.
The normal elements of a seeker service are drama, professional and contemporary style vocals and music, video clips, and short, simple messages designed to present the basics on some aspect of the Christian faith.
... Notably, the following elements were not employed in seeker service I attended (which I think is typical): Bible reading, pastoral or congregational prayer, congregational singing and worship. In fact almost no one I saw had a Bible with them.
We’re planning to improve our signage out the front. We want people to notice our building, know when we meet for services, wonder what we get up to in here, feel confident that they’re welcome to come and see.
Eight or so years ago, when we thought about our building and how we might renovate, we concluded we are unapologetically a church. We don’t want to blend in with cafes and shops or be multi purpose or neutral. (Which is just as well since we are historic Category One and fairly restricted.) We want to take up room as a reminder of the life giving importance of the sacred.
If a random person walks in at 10 on a Sunday are we delighted or nervous?
Why do you think we meet each week, and why do you come?
Do we gather because when two or three do, Christ is present, and that is enough?
Do we gather to worship God, and that is enough?
Do we gather to become better humans with reference to the divine?
Do we gather to explore and develop the details of our faith?
Do we gather to belong to something outside of ourselves and capitalism?
What do you think are essential elements in our church services, which are benign, and what would embarrass you if you had a curious friend here?
I assume we will always read from the bible, always pray, always have all voices present, and possible, through our roster slots and the testimony and counter-testimony of Free For All.
I oscillate on morning tea. Valuing the hospitality and needs of bodies, but worried about the demands on a smallish group. Valuing the elevation of interaction but worried that it could be awful for visitors (or regulars!).
I used to feel awkward about the offering, but now I like acknowledging publically that we cannot survive without the contributions, that come in many forms, of the people who attach to this place.
I used to be ambivalent about singing in services but now I value the repetition and other-worldly nature of song and music. In a text-based religion, it’s vital to have deeply embedded practices that don’t rely on words.
I do wonder if we should be more intentional about sharing stories of transformation each week. Stories about what God is doing in our lives.
I wonder if we should be more intentional about silence, about building our skills in listening to God, through a range of spiritual practices.
I wonder if our noticeboard is irrelevant or doesn’t matter at all, if we should put more resource into kids than adults, overview the bible once a year, regularly discern together what our convictions about gathering are, and what’s missing or in excess.
I wonder if out benediction is wonderful because it is about pure being and identity in God’s care, or if we should go out with a call to radical discipleship and action? Perhaps we need two.
Lynne Taylor’s research found that Christians had impact on others when they didn’t just say “come to church with me” but “come and enter into my life of faith with me.” When they demonstrated that their faith influenced all of how they lived.
Perhaps this is the role of church gathering – manifesting authenticity.
When I think about church community I usually come back to baby dedications.
Today we dedicate ourselves to this child. To their wellbeing and growth, to ensuring they experience the love of God, and to being people this child can be open with about their joy and pain, questions and experiences.
Being at this dedication service is an invitation to contribute to this child’s life, each of us to the extent we are able. And it’s an invitation to our faith community to be a place where children are valued and nurtured, where people flourish in a caring, challenging, community of Jesus’ followers.
With all the questions that remain about whether we dig into our unique identity as church goers and Jesus followers on Sunday mornings, or be more intentionally inviting and forthcoming, I am convinced that the most important thing is to be the kind of community that manifests the Love of God we find in Jesus.
1 Corinthians 13 was written for a community of people who got on each other’s nerves, misunderstood and mystified each other, and yet dared to believed that the lives they lived together meant something important.
About six weeks ago I quoted from George Wieland’s excellent article in the Baptist Magazine called Guests and Hosts in the Mission of God.
There is a deep‑rooted assumption in many of our church mission efforts that we are in the role of hosts. We invite people into our space, we extend hospitality, and we are willing to share our resources with those who come in. But we hold the power, we exercise control, we are the generous givers and they are the needy recipients.
George goes on to challenge his Baptist readers not to assume the real task is to get people into our spaces and comfort zones so we can minister to them, but to consider the importance of accepting hospitality, being in other people’s spaces.
My experience of Te Reo class; being a guest of the language, the kaiako, and several marae, has been humbling and life-changing. It’s certainly made me realise how comparatively comfortable it can be to be a host, and how vulnerable but blessed it can be to be a guest. But it has also struck me afresh how sacred the host role is when done with generosity and intention.
So today I wanted to explore further our assumptions and values around hosting, getting people into our space, and how it relates to opening up our faith for anyone who might be curious or drawn to Christ Jesus.
While there are some of us who have had good experiences with, and seen God move through, door knocking and bowling up to strangers with questionnaires and booklets, it’s not advocated by the experts in post-Christian contexts like ours. Nor do I sense it’s where our church on the whole wants to resource or be resourced. (Although we should never rule out the possibility that the Spirit of God will prompt us to say or do something overtly stretching-out-Jesus to some person at some time.) Last week we talked about lives of radical transformation that bear witness and invite curiosity, and the excellent point was made in response: do we know how we’d answer curious questions about our lives of faith?
Today I’m interested in how we believe our central gathering can and should function in putting the Good News of Jesus Christ into the hands of those who are exploring faith. Do our services convey the faith that shapes our lives? Would they inspire or dismay a spiritual seeker? I agreed with the comment last week that it’s the task of the community to witness to Jesus – so what role do our weekly gatherings play?
We give the name Church (capital C) to the idea that everyone, everywhere, who joins the Jesus following movement, the Body of Christ, joining something bigger than themselves or the sum of their parts.
But as well as Church we have churches – collections of people in time and place, who connect with each other to support, encourage, learn, and worship, and to give expression to Jesus in their lives and context. This is not to say this that meeting on 10am each Sunday in a building is the only way to be a Christian. But those of us who choose to belong to a church or a faith collective, to situate ourselves in a particular place with particular people, would probably say it’s important or even vital to our faith.
Jesus’ own ministry and witness to God were inseparable from the community he was part of – the people who loved him, misunderstood him, exasperated him, fed him, followed him, and found their way into a new way of being with him after Easter and Pentecost.
The earliest Christian community, not yet called Christian, was as much about life and witness together as it was any kind of structured gathering we might call a church service. Acts 2 says: They committed themselves to the teaching of the apostles, the life together, the common meal, and the prayers. ... And all the believers lived in a wonderful harmony, holding everything in common. They sold whatever they owned and pooled their resources so that each person’s need was met.
As the movement spread, people needed to learn from what had gone before, and grow in the Way of Jesus; needed to celebrate and remind each other of the goodness of God and the seeds of a new world and way of being in their midst, needed encouragement in their struggles and sorrows, needed rituals to shape them and speak for them... all the things we associate with church services.
In the 1990s (or maybe 2000s?) Willow Creek, an American mega-church, popularised the idea of “Seeker Services.” Church services that were not primarily about Christians gathering to express their faith in worship and reflection, but about inviting and encouraging non Christian friends, introducing them to the beliefs and motivations of Jesus followers, letting them know how faith could change their lives for the better. I distinctly recall thinking it was ridiculous, as a young theology student, because if you weren’t a Christian why on earth would you spend your Sunday morning in a church service?!
One critic (Pastor Jeff VanGoethem) explains on his church blog:
Seeker churches presume that many are “turned off” to the traditional way church is done elsewhere and want to do it a different way, a way they believe is relevant to the needs of the person who is seeking God but unchurched.
The normal elements of a seeker service are drama, professional and contemporary style vocals and music, video clips, and short, simple messages designed to present the basics on some aspect of the Christian faith.
... Notably, the following elements were not employed in seeker service I attended (which I think is typical): Bible reading, pastoral or congregational prayer, congregational singing and worship. In fact almost no one I saw had a Bible with them.
We’re planning to improve our signage out the front. We want people to notice our building, know when we meet for services, wonder what we get up to in here, feel confident that they’re welcome to come and see.
Eight or so years ago, when we thought about our building and how we might renovate, we concluded we are unapologetically a church. We don’t want to blend in with cafes and shops or be multi purpose or neutral. (Which is just as well since we are historic Category One and fairly restricted.) We want to take up room as a reminder of the life giving importance of the sacred.
If a random person walks in at 10 on a Sunday are we delighted or nervous?
Why do you think we meet each week, and why do you come?
Do we gather because when two or three do, Christ is present, and that is enough?
Do we gather to worship God, and that is enough?
Do we gather to become better humans with reference to the divine?
Do we gather to explore and develop the details of our faith?
Do we gather to belong to something outside of ourselves and capitalism?
What do you think are essential elements in our church services, which are benign, and what would embarrass you if you had a curious friend here?
I assume we will always read from the bible, always pray, always have all voices present, and possible, through our roster slots and the testimony and counter-testimony of Free For All.
I oscillate on morning tea. Valuing the hospitality and needs of bodies, but worried about the demands on a smallish group. Valuing the elevation of interaction but worried that it could be awful for visitors (or regulars!).
I used to feel awkward about the offering, but now I like acknowledging publically that we cannot survive without the contributions, that come in many forms, of the people who attach to this place.
I used to be ambivalent about singing in services but now I value the repetition and other-worldly nature of song and music. In a text-based religion, it’s vital to have deeply embedded practices that don’t rely on words.
I do wonder if we should be more intentional about sharing stories of transformation each week. Stories about what God is doing in our lives.
I wonder if we should be more intentional about silence, about building our skills in listening to God, through a range of spiritual practices.
I wonder if our noticeboard is irrelevant or doesn’t matter at all, if we should put more resource into kids than adults, overview the bible once a year, regularly discern together what our convictions about gathering are, and what’s missing or in excess.
I wonder if out benediction is wonderful because it is about pure being and identity in God’s care, or if we should go out with a call to radical discipleship and action? Perhaps we need two.
Lynne Taylor’s research found that Christians had impact on others when they didn’t just say “come to church with me” but “come and enter into my life of faith with me.” When they demonstrated that their faith influenced all of how they lived.
Perhaps this is the role of church gathering – manifesting authenticity.
When I think about church community I usually come back to baby dedications.
Today we dedicate ourselves to this child. To their wellbeing and growth, to ensuring they experience the love of God, and to being people this child can be open with about their joy and pain, questions and experiences.
Being at this dedication service is an invitation to contribute to this child’s life, each of us to the extent we are able. And it’s an invitation to our faith community to be a place where children are valued and nurtured, where people flourish in a caring, challenging, community of Jesus’ followers.
With all the questions that remain about whether we dig into our unique identity as church goers and Jesus followers on Sunday mornings, or be more intentionally inviting and forthcoming, I am convinced that the most important thing is to be the kind of community that manifests the Love of God we find in Jesus.
1 Corinthians 13 was written for a community of people who got on each other’s nerves, misunderstood and mystified each other, and yet dared to believed that the lives they lived together meant something important.
