The Beginning of the End

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Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

~St. F. Bueller.

A three year stint in the academy is coming to an end for me, meaning, I stand on the verge of a life altering event.

I’ve had many of those type of events in the last few years, none more so then the birth of Violet. Yet this week was a reminder that my time at Wake Forest School of Divinity is drawing to a close. You see, third year students are asked/granted the privilege to preach in Davis Chapel. When I was notified of this opportunity last semester I marked down that I would be more interested  in the Spring and logged the future moment away in the recesses of my brain. A somewhat rattling email at the beginning of January reminded me of my proclamation duties, prompting me to craft a short 10 minute-ish sermon (10 minutes for a Baptist preacher?!?...the pressure was on for sure).

While relying on the lectionary text for that day in Nehemiah Ch. 8, I found myself remembering the words of a recently retired clergy I had the fortune to serve with at FBC-Statesville, Dr. Larry Gregg. When talking with me about my final semester he imparted the wisdom to brace for the inevitable; life after school. He recalled finishing his dissertation for his PhD, defending it, and then in his words “it was over.”

For some, graduation à la cap and gown or hood and stole signifies the completion of this journey, but I didn’t get that message from my conversation with Larry. What I sensed was a need to reflect on the ending of a particular kind of experience where you find yourself not surrounding by institutional learning, pedagogical peers, and letter grades attached for perceived worth of work for the first time in a while.

I understood what he was saying; something that has become such a large, demanding, personal part of your life is coming to an end and you better be ready to deal with that void.

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Because of this, I’m starting to ask myself what this means to me, particularly around the notion of “ending well.” My first and probably only sermon at Wake Divinity as a student was my first chance in fleshing out this crucial practice. While my sermon, I hope, included historical, moral, and spiritual components my desire was to also express appreciation for the opportunity to be in that space at that time with both my family and peers. For me it was a chance to build material for reflection that can only be done by being intentionally present.

It’s the beginning of the end.

Cheers



Book Review: "Leatherbound Terrorism"

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Leatherbound Terrorism by Chris Kratzer is a study of his personal journey from restrictive conservative Evangelical Christianity to a liberating understanding of God’s unconditional Grace.

Kratzer exposes the reader to an adolescence riddled with sickness, tension, and exploitation from those he trusted including his family. He desire to gain approval from his father leads him to create a distorted image of God.

A extended stay in the hospital as a child results in a spiritual experience where Kratzer’s feels a closeness to the Christian messiah Jesus. This encounter will later lead him to feel called into ministry, first in a mainline denomination. Kratzer’s first few years in this setting are described as difficult. After 5 years serving in congregational ministry under intense scrutiny Kratzer admits, “that the allures of conservative Evangelical Christianity were pimped in my direction.” (40) To him, there was a method to conservative evangelicalism which promised success. He read the right books and attended the right conferences, only to come back to the notion that he was essentially living a lie and faking his faith. Kratzer’s observation from other leaders in this camp was the same. “Everyone was faking it just like me - not because we wanted to, but because, truth be told, as I was discovering, that’ the best one can do while on the religious treadmill of conservative Evangelical Christianity.” (49)

This cycle would finally break Kratzer one evening at his bedside. Sitting beside his wife he told her to pack her things and take the kids and leave him. He was suffering emotionally, spiritually, and physically. His conservative Evangelical faith was telling him this was punishment from a god who was constantly disappointed. “I was a disappointment to myself, a perceived burden to others, and a barrier to the life my family deserved.” (55) In this crucial moment Kratzer describes seeing an image of Jesus. This image of Christ embraced him fully not for the works he believed were important and essential, but instead for who he already was; a beautiful creation made in the image of God. In this moment, Kratzer believes he came face to face with the God of grace. “It wasn’t a theology, philosophy, or a new way of thinking; it was a person - Jesus.” (55)

This moment spurs Kratzer to reflect back on the damage his conservative faith caused him, and others he ministered to, while a conservative Evangelical pastor. Now, being equipped with a Gospel of Grace, he moves forward in affirming those on the margins of society while challenging those who wish to perpetuate systems rooted in power and privilege.

I took Leatherbound Terrorism as both a confessional and redeeming work. Kratzer comes unabashedly hard with “bullet point” type paragraphs. His message seems urgent and I sometimes felt as if he was repetitive in some areas. Yet, the takeaway is worth these dragging moments. In the same spirit as Brennan Manning, Kratzer really does believe “all is grace.”

Women's Pants Don't Have Pockets, I Know Because I Wear Them: A Pastor's Confession

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Back in January I began a lifestyle change that has seen me drop some serious weight. While the main objective was to get healthier, a byproduct of dropping 70lbs has been the ability to expand my wardrobe and fit back into pieces of clothing I haven’t seen in some time. During one of the rummages in my closet I found a pair of pants with a brown plaid design that reminded me of something I’d picture Daniel Day Lewis’ character Bill the Butcher wearing in Gangs of New York. While “skinny” jeans/pants might not be for everyone, these fit me perfectly. I slapped on a pair of suspenders and was giving myself a once over in the mirror when my hands slid down to the front pockets.

My hands kept sliding because there were no pockets. These were my wife’s pants.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve wore a pair of my wife pants. She had a pair of black skinny jeans I use to “borrow” along with a burgundy pair, which sadly, I can’t find anymore. While being super comfortable, there was something about them I always thought odd. The pockets. Or perhaps I should say, the lack thereof.

This isn’t new news to most women. For years I’ve heard women make mention of their appreciation for pants, dresses, and skirts where designers gave attention to adequate pocket size and depth. Wearing pants designed for women, I can see their frustration. Modern cell phones stick halfway out back pockets and the minimal front pockets do well to fit a peppermint or tube of chap-stick. Why is this? According to journalist and freelance writer Melanie Radzicki McManus,

Centuries ago, all clothing was created sans pockets. Men and women carried their belongings in small pouches tied around the waist. Then, some 400 years ago, pockets were sewn into men's clothing, but this same feature was omitted from female garments. In the early 1800s, slimmer silhouettes came into style, so women no longer could wear pockets under clothes but had to wear them over clothes — and their pockets got much smaller. Some say it was a way to keep women powerless. If they had no way to secretly carry items around, it would be harder for them to travel independently or conduct clandestine affairs.

While the 20th century saw steps to address this issue, most designers still disregard or choose not to take the issue seriously. In a time where gender equality is often claimed, me wearing my wife’s pants reminds me that it’s not.

There are several ways to approach this issue, and here is the one I’m personally finding most helpful; I want to bring attention to this problem, but also make it a point to not conform to preconceived gender normative concepts concerning clothing.

My wife and I are doing this with our daughter as well, when we go in Carters’, or any other store selling baby clothes, we don’t let the “girl and boy”sections determine what we buy for our daughter.

My daughter wearing a sweatshirt from the “boy’s section.”

My daughter wearing a sweatshirt from the “boy’s section.”

As a faith leader I try and strive for opportunities to expose people to different ideas which often require some decentering/deconstructing of long held beliefs. Issues surrounding gender equality are part of, I believe, the “kingdom of God” work I keep trying to live out.

And I plan to do some of that living wearing my wife’s pocket-less pants.

As you were,

~tBSB

The Virtue of Contrariness

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Have you ever had a conversation like this:


Them: “You know, Michael Jordan was the greatest basketball player of all time.”

You: “Yeah, he really was the greatest.”

Them: “Well, not really. Lebron is better.”

Wait, what just happened?!? How can you disagree with me agreeing with you? I understand for some people that debating is a form of communication and shows their desire to be in conversation with others. However, this back and forth can be tiring if the other party doesn’t share the same understanding. I despise divisiveness for the sake of divisiveness, but I’ve come appreciate and embrace a virtue I believe has fallen to the wayside.

Contrarianism.

I believe it has gotten a bad rap.

In one of my favorite works of agrarian, writer, and social activist Wendell Berry, he says in a piece entitled “The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer”,

“I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my
inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission
to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.”

(Click HERE to see Berry read the entire work himself)


I’m coming to embrace this same inheritance, particularly when it comes to my vocational “calling.”


You have to wear a jacket on Sunday morning at this church. You’ll never catch me in one.

We’re a casual come as you are body of believers. I’ll show up in a 70s green sports coat.


We spend our time building up believers in our church. Fine, I’ll do ministry outside the walls.

We don’t get caught up in steeple work. That’s fine, but I’m partial to stained glass.


Honor God through your education and studies. I think God might be after my heart.

Be Careful of seminary, it’ll steal your faith! I’ve been exposed to a bigger God while there.


You’re a professional, now act like it. But I thought God “called” me to this service?

You’re “called” and that settles it. But don’t you think I should lean into my vocation?


That’s the way we’ve always done it. I’m telling you we need to do it different.

We need to shake things up! I’m telling you we should be respectful of our traditions.


Our community is entirely inclusive; all means all! Maybe it shouldn’t be.

These are the requirements to be in fellowship here. Maybe you need to expand the table.

“Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don't know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.” (Berry, again)


Maybe what I’m coming to understand is that when someone attempts to place me inside a box restricting my thoughts, feelings, experiences I find myself wanting to push back. And if I’m made within the image of God, just maybe God feels the same way too.


As you were,

~tBSB


Words Of Gratitude to the Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond

I submitted this article upon request to Wake Forest School of Divinity as an op-ed piece. I share it here for those outside the WFU community.

I submitted this article upon request to Wake Forest School of Divinity as an op-ed piece. I share it here for those outside the WFU community.

In the 1980s a cataclysmic buildup was finally coming to a head in the Southern Baptist Convention. Depending on who you ask, the “conservative resurgence” or “fundamentalist takeover” made its way from church pulpits and pews into each and every one of the seminaries associated with the denomination. For those who did not agree with the administration's new direction, their experiences were riddled with loss, sadness, anger, and uncertainty. For many years, Southern Baptists who felt a “calling” to ministry knew where their theological education would come from, yet now, those who did not adhere to biblical inerrancy and believed women were justified in seeking pastorate positions were turned away and asked to leave. During a time where denominational identity was strong, this separation left a generation of academics and clergy in exile.

In 1991 a dissenting group of Baptists helped establish a new institute of higher learning offering theological training and refuge for a people who had either been turned away or had never been given the chance. The Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond was formed not as an antithesis to schools with dogmatic leanings, but instead as a space where Baptists, and others seeking spiritual formation, could explore their faith practising true “soul freedom.” While it was presented as one of the first alternatives, BTSR came to represent what SBC seminaries had let slip away; a place where diversity, not sameness, was cultivated in the hope of enriching all involved.

I am saddened to hear of the closing of BTSR at the end of the current academic year. While this disheartening news is attached to many different causes, the attention at this time should not be focused on the negative, but instead on the impact BTSR has provided to Baptist life by equipping servant leaders for the work of "kindom" building. Their contribution is unmeasurable and has led other institutions who claim Baptist heritage desiring to do the same. BTSR came to embody an ideal which lent itself to initiatives like the Baptist Commons here at Wake Forest School of Divinity. Their foundational work reminds us of the responsibility to meet the spiritual needs of our communities in the most authentic and meaningful ways possible.

(While not appearing in the original article submitted to WFU School of Divinity, I thought it appropriate to include this quote by Cecil Sherman which appeared in Carl Kell’s collection of essays, Exiled.)

When speaking of those who walked through the doors of BTSR, Cecil Sherman would say “I am an adjunct teacher at BTSR. They are great people. For six years I’ve watched them. They do good in the churches they serve. They do not diminish them. They are not liberal (with few exceptions). They love the Lord and go forth to serve churches. A dollar invested in this school is a dollar well spent. Dot (Sherman’s spouse) and I tithe our salary to BTSR. We believe in BTSR.”


Thank you BTSR for entrusting those identifying with the Baptist faith with your inspiring vision. Thank you for giving us something to believe in.

Millennials want authenticity from church, not red carpets and gimmicks

The above image and article below is from a Baptist News Global article written by Jeff Brumley. Jeff reached out to me for some thoughts around millennials and why they’re often depicted as being dissociated from the institutional church. The origi…

The above image and article below is from a Baptist News Global article written by Jeff Brumley. Jeff reached out to me for some thoughts around millennials and why they’re often depicted as being dissociated from the institutional church. The original article can be found HERE.

Congregations lamenting the dwindling presence of young adults from church and faith often need only to look within for the solutions.

In many cases it isn’t Millennials and younger adults who need to change, said Mark Tidsworth, a congregational and clergy consultant based in South Carolina.

“After only brief reflection, we see the issue may not actually be Millennials and their preferences,” he wrote in a recent blog post for his ministry, Pinnacle Leadership Associates.

“Instead the issue may be us . . . those of us who are acculturated into the predominant expressions of God’s Church formed during the last half of the 20th century.”

All too often, Millennials are invited to churches where they are expected to conform to decades-old ways of worship and governance, Tidsworth said.

“If we are going to invite people who are members of different generations to be involved in church and we want to make space for them, it means we can’t insist that they do church the way we have always done it,” he told Baptist News Global.

The challenge seems to exist for houses of worship – and Millennials – across religious groups.

The Deseret News in Salt Lake City, Utah, recently published a story titled “10 ways to connect with Latter-day Saint Millennials.” The Denver Catholic reported that parish leaders in that area are trying “to recapture the Millennial generation.”

In an October interview with Baptist News Global, a rabbi said synagogues are bending over backwards to convince Millennials to return to their Jewish roots.

A young adult told BNG earlier this year that being treated like idols makes Millennials feel pandered to and leads many to stay away.

And the anecdotal examples are backed up by the numbers.

Polls and reports about the rise of religious “nones” – those with no religious affiliation – are numerous. Millennials, they have found, are leading that movement.

The Public Religion Research Institute, or PRRI, reported that 39 percent of adults aged 18-29 are in that category. That’s three times the rate of religiously unaffiliated Americans 65 and older.

‘Gimmick red carpet treatment’

One of the inadvisable things churches can do is turn to gimmicks to try to lure young adult Christians through the doors, said Justin Cox, 37, the minister of students at First Baptist Church in Statesville, North Carolina.

Millennials and other younger adults can readily detect when someone is using “this gimmick red carpet treatment” to get them in or to stay, Cox said.

Besides, abandoning traditional worship for more modern forms isn’t a guarantee because many young people are attracted to liturgy, stained glass and steeples, Cox said.

What Millennials are attracted to is authenticity and the opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the church.

“There has to be some way the church offers to help people find where their passions lie,” Cox said.

Or, at the least, congregations must be open to letting Millennials create their own avenues for involvement.

“Someone who is 65 doesn’t need to create a young adults ministry,” he said.

That means it isn’t all on the church to make the relationship work, Cox added.

“The responsibility is on both ends,” he said. “The church needs to create space where young people can come in and figure out who they are in that space, and young people need to say, ‘what can I bring to this community?’”

Cultivating new communities

It’s noble and healthy to want to convince young people to come to church, Tidsworth said.

“We want to pass on our faith to the next generation and we believe the of way Jesus is a beautiful and good thing,” he said.

But there are other motivations for many congregations.

“It’s also mixed with institutional concerns, which are buildings and bodies and budgets. And it’s about keeping our church going the way it has in the past.”

What congregations must try to do, Tidsworth said, is to adjust the expression of the church.

That may include restructuring the historic committee-based approach to handling church functions, often with multi-year terms.

“Millennials and other groups are less likely to want to do that,” he said. “They will be involved in a taskforce or a project.”

Congregations can also change their approach to Christian formation in ways more attractive to the lifestyles of younger adults and families, Tidsworth said.

Some churches are replacing traditional Sunday school, which is declining in attendance, with small-group meetings in members’ homes to conduct Christian formation.

Millennials also must be allowed into leadership roles, he said. Inviting them to worship but not to help guide the church doesn’t work for young adults.

In other cases, churches are launching or inviting congregations that cater to young adults. It’s an approach available to groups unwilling to change their own expressions, Tidsworth said.

“It makes more room around Christ’s table,” he said.

Whatever churches do, they must be aware the mid-20th century way of being church holds little appeal for most young adults, Tidsworth said.

“Millennials in general are not interested in membership culture and being members of organizations,” he said.

The truth of that observation is borne out in the statistics.

“Millennials have already indicated that they don’t relate to the cultural models of previous generations,” Tidsworth said. “If churches want to connect with Millennials they either have to be willing to adjust their expression of church and be willing to make some large-scale changes or cultivate new communities.”

Another Shooting: Our Inability to Empathize

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In June 2015 my wife and I were on a mission trip with students at the church I previously served as youth pastor. The trip had all the makings of a typical youth excursion; students leaving things behind, the organizations we partnered with falling through in some areas, and of course having to change a flat tire on the church van (I swear, I changed a tire on that van once, maybe even, twice, a year for THREE years).

On the evening of June 17th, we sat down to have dinner together. Some students were playing board games, some checking their phones, while others were watching the movie Selma which I had brought along. About halfway through the film, my wife’s phone started buzzing. There had been a mass shooting at a church in Charleston, SC. Social media began to explode with accounts of what happened at Mother Emanuel AME. I grabbed my phone and told students to do the same as they were informed to contact their parents to let them know we were alright.

You see, we were in Charleston when the shootings happened.

Proximity offers an experience like no other. We had heard sirens go by in the home we had rented for the week yet thought nothing of it. As we tuned into national news outlets we began to see places and street corners we had just walked on hours before. While phones were being scrolled by everyone, the movie Selma continued to play in the background depicting the struggle and pursuit of racial equality during the Civil Rights era of the 1960s. Even in that very moment, I saw the significance of what was unfolding; we were watching history and also smack in the middle of it.

My God, how far have we as a nation of people really come?

Hearing the tragic news of what took place at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh this past Saturday brought my memories of Charleston that summer flooding back. I remember the initial fear, the anger, the need to want to do something. I wanted to go out into the streets and be present as a faith leader, yet I had students with me and my responsibility to them took priority. All my wife Lauren and I could do was watch the story unfold as we stayed up late into the night. The next morning we were to scheduled to stop into a local charitable organization for a tour before heading back to eastern NC. I notified them early the next morning to let them know we were not able to come.

Instead, I decided to take the students to a memorial service just a few blocks away from Mother Emanuel at Morris Brown AME church instead.

I could say a lot about what we all saw and experienced there that day. Speakers, the songs being sung in and outside the sanctuary, the patrolling bomb squad and security, the tears that flowed around us and by us. Yet, when I think back to this horrific display of racism and white supremacy I push myself to remember the scene inside the Morris Brown sanctuary that morning. I saw clerical collars of all shapes and sizes next to kippahs. I watched imams embrace rabbis while Christians ministers waited for their chance to do the same. I watched one of the biggest men I have ever seen openly sob in front of me. I saw a people, from all different faith backgrounds, lament together. It’s the closest thing to the kingdom of heaven I believe I’ve ever come in contact with.

Charleston 2015, 9 victims

Sutherland 2017, 26 victims

Pittsburgh 2018, 11

(Columbine, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, Stoneman Douglas)

In the wake of another shooting, the talks of how this could have been prevented skyrocket to the surface. People huddle up to their proposed ideology and accompanying collective group and hold fast to their believed corrective action. Some call for gun law reform while others cry for more guns. Some call for action while others call for conversation. Some point to the obvious underlying tension of systemic oppression while others say we as a nation just need to move on from problems like racism and antisemitism because they are perceived to be in the past. This nation doesn’t want to admit it has a problem, and meanwhile, victims bodies continue to pile up.

I see a lot of talking. I see a lot of agendas. I see biased reporting. I see an unwillingness to hear another side or experience that doesn’t line up with one's own understanding. I see police officers at the entrances of places of worship and wonder if this is the new normal going forward (and how much this saddens me). I see victim blaming by political leaders.

I see these tragedies as the only time people come together.

The sad reality is maybe these moments are the only times we as a nation can feel something towards each other.  Maybe we’ve reached a level of apathy that has pushed us off the charts into a realm where the ability to love anything, especially those we consider “others”, is next to impossible.  And even when we do, these moments are so compartmentalized we are forced to process and move on as quickly as possible so that we might be ready to do it again a few weeks later. Maybe that’s why modern White America has such a hard time understanding transgenerational trauma because it forces us to linger and reflect on inhuman acts committed on African slaves in the name of Manifest Destiny. If you spend enough time reflecting you might start to realize this isn’t “their problem”, but  “your problem” too. What I’m asking is not a call to come to terms, but a call for reconciliation. And it shouldn’t take a white anti-semitic shooter and 11 dead Jewish brothers and sisters to realize this.

Saturday acts reminded me of Charleston. It reminded me of what systems of oppression spewing hatefully bent rhetoric propagating elitism can do. It reminded me of our country’s lack or inability to see itself of fault and sin.

It makes me think our greatest sin is our lack of empathy toward each other.

Lord, we have so much work to do...and so much to answer for.

A Prayer of Pressing: A Savory Contemplative Prayer Practice

Boldly going where I go every morning…

Boldly going where I go every morning…

I’m not sure when Lauren and I received our first french press coffee maker, but I know it wasn’t until last year that we begin to use it. Like so many things that sit on on shelves unused, I believe it did so out of sheer ignorance…at least on my part anyways. Once we moved into a current home, I eyed the contraption suspiciously until finally I asked Lauren, “how in the world do you use this thing?”

Why the sudden desire? I think there were many factors. However, I believe the biggest to be my kindling interest in creation care. Lauren and I were trying our hands at gardening and I knew that coffee grinds were supposed to be wonderful contributors to compost piles. Also, the amount of Keurig cups I saw in our trash can made me warrant the possible need for change.

Lauren taught me how to use a french press, and with the exciting newness of a toy I had always had but just learned to play with, I bought my first bag of whole bean coarse ground coffee from the store. This happened a few times before we finally invested in an grinder of our own along with an electric kettle to heat water.

A regular size french press produces two large cups of coffee in our house, meaning we usually have to perform the act twice in order to have a couple of cups each to wake our bodies up for the day ahead. That means twice every morning we observe in the following actions;

The Act of Pressing:

Pour/grind coffee beans.

Pour water in the kettle.

Wash out the french press if we haven’t from the day before and transplant the grounded beans.

Wait for the water to boil.

Pour water over ground beans and stir.

Wait several minutes before “pressing.”

Pour steaming cup of liquid celebration into cup and enjoy.

Needless to say it takes a little more effort than popping a cup in a Keurig with a little water added. In a society where efficiency is valued, why do I take the extra time to make my coffee this way?

Again, I have thought of many reasons, but the answer I feel most comfortable giving is that I recognize the process as an act of contemplative prayer where I am aware of my embodied actions (my physical preparation to make the coffee), the items used to do so (my acknowledgement of others who have provided the materials needed), and my awareness of God in the moment (divine presence). In her book An Altar to the World, Barbara Brown Taylor says “Anything can become a spiritual practice once you are willing to approach it that way.” For me, the making of coffee in this manner allows for reflection of process; meaning I actually have to think about what I’m doing and, because there is waiting involved, I have to walk away from it which requires me to remember it later (I can’t tell you how often I’ve started boiling water only to completely forget about it leaving me to do it again).

The entire process might take between 10-15 minutes. For some, their days are started by encountering God with prayer once feet hit the floor. For others, they turn to personal devotions and scripture to connect with the holy. However for me, the act of shuffling around in my semi-dark kitchen pouring water and grinding beans is enough to remind me that I’m in the presence of the sacred.

Amen.


Statesville Landmark: Interfaith group Water into Wine brings together diverse members

Big thanks to Megan Suggs who wrote this feature story for the local Statesville Landmark. The article in its original form can be found HERE.

Big thanks to Megan Suggs who wrote this feature story for the local Statesville Landmark. The article in its original form can be found HERE.

Twice a month, a diverse group of Statesville citizens comes together over glasses of wine and beer to talk about ways to overcome the racial, religious and generational barriers that separate them.

Although the program, Water into Wine, was started by local churches, organizers say anyone is welcome to attend the sessions. Members have respectful conversations about hot-button issues such as confederate monuments, mental health and race, among other topics.

“The goal for us is to help break the cycle we’re in of anger and people being able to isolate themselves from any worldview other than their own,” said Rev. Wes Pitts, one of the group’s founders. Pitts is also director of Christian education at First Presbyterian Church in Statesville.

Pitts started Water into Wine with Rev. Carrilea Potter Hall, associate pastor of Broad Street United Methodist Church in Statesville, because they recognized a need for community discussion in a relaxed space. The two soon met Rev. Justin Cox, minster to students at First Baptist Church in Statesville, and all three now facilitate the meetings.

Hall said the inclusive nature of the program allowed members to have conversations with those of other denominations and religions. Such experiences are important for people of faith.

Water into Wine is “building bridges across different groups of people and created a space for people who wouldn’t come into a church,” Hall said. “I hope the group grows in diversity. This is a very polarized world, and this could be a space where we see our similarities.”

The relationships formed help people educate each other, Pitts said. When Water into Wine discussed mental health, he learned of several services offered in Statesville. Many of the topics the group discusses are informative for all involved.

Several of the participants say it’s helping unite people who wouldn’t normally interact.

“A community has formed of very different backgrounds, from Jews to Methodists to Presbyterians to people who don’t follow any religion,” said Jim Tarman, Water into Wine member who also attends First Presbyterian Church.

Tarman nominated Pitts for the Ecumenical and Interfaith Award from Presbyterian USA for his involvement with Water into Wine. On June 20, the General Assembly Committee on Ecumenical and Interreligious Relations gave Pitts the award.

In a time when so few people are willing to talk with those who disagree with them, Pitts said, he believed GACEIR recognized Water into Wine’s culture of open diverse discussion was valuable.

Pitts said few people willingly talk to someone with whom they disagree. The award shows that Water into Wine’s culture of open and diverse discussion is valuable, he believes.

“I don’t think we can experience all of who God is when we’re isolated in our little box,” Pitts said.

Circuit Riding: My Takeaways From A Summer of Preaching

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Today is officially the beginning of autumn and to this I give thanks. Not only for God providing another day for me to exist in creation, but to do so with the promise of cooler weather (of all the things I love about the South, the heat is not one of them). At the seasonal turn, I am finding afamiliar stride in the final year of my divinity school experience and beginning to transition back fully into part-time minister status (is there such a thing?) at the church I serve in Statesville. Before time slips away into a never ceasing deadline of theological papers, I wanted to take a moment and offer some personal observations on the closure of my summer. My friend Austin, who wrote a wonderful piece earlier this month, spurred my own desire to reflect back on a series of weeks this past summer where I found myself behind the pulpit in several different faith communities.

June 17th 2018: First Baptist Church (Davie Ave) – Statesville.

I began the summer in my own church FBC – Statesville.

Summer official kicks off for student ministry when school ends. The students of FBC traditional go to camp within the first two weeks of being released and this summer was no exception. Because of personal scheduling issues, I would not leave for camp with them that Sunday. This provided me the opportunity to preach on Father’s Day, and of course, this was an emotional event for me as it was my first Father’s Day as a new parent. What I remember most about that morning, beside the pauses where I attempted and failed miserably from holding back tears, was looking out into the congregation and seeing my parents, particularly my father, and noticing my wife walking back in forth in the vestibule with Violet. The picture below was sent to me by a choir member, who unbeknownst to him, had managed to capture me, my father, and Lauren holding Violet all in the same frame. My sermon that morning was entitled “An Indescribable Love” and was inspired by Bishop Michael Curry royal wedding message.

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June 24th, 2018: First Baptist Church (Garfield St) – Statesville.

The following Sunday I drove 6 minutes down the road and delivered a message to the other FBC in Statesville (most towns in the South have two in case you didn’t know).

My second Summer in Statesville, I came across FBC on Garfield St. because I took a wrong turn trying to find another church. That serendipitous, or providential, occurrence led me to begin a relationship with Rev. Brunson the pastor of what the people call “First Church.” After numerous lunches and conversations, brother Brunson invited me over on the fifth Sunday of the month to share a message to his congregation. I preached for the first time in an historic African-American church, and was overwhelmed with the love and support I received from those of First Church and the families who had come over from FBC Davie Ave to support me. One older First Church saint sitting in the front row kept urging me on during the sermon. When I hit a point that moved him, he’d holler out “Mighty, Mighty, Mighty!” The scripture that spurred the sermon was the “alternative ending” to the Gospel of Mark where believers are told to pick up poisonous serpents. While no actual snakes were lifted up, I challenged all there that we as a community need to embrace a faith that calls one to lay hands on poisonous injustices in our present society e.g. systemic racism. I’m hoping to return the favor and love brother Brunson showed me that day by having him over at FBC on Davie in the coming year.

August 12th, 2018: First Baptist Church – Traverse City, Michigan

After a less eventful July, I traveled the farthest I ever had to preach.

The summer of 2017, while visiting Lauren’s mother in Michigan, I awoke one Sunday morning and decided to visit the local Baptist church. I found FBC – Traverse City online and was intrigued by the idea of attending an American Baptist Church. That morning I met their pastor MaryBeth and through our conversation we discovered we knew a few of the same people such as Molly Marshall and Bill Leonard. We exchanged emails and I was pleasantly surprised when a few months later MaryBeth reached out to me to see if I’d be interested in preaching when Lauren and I visited again. This came to fruition in August as I preached to an intimate congregation which included a large portion of Lauren’s family. My sermon was on creation care and stewardship and I was glad to hear after the service that my mention of Wendell Berry had resonated with a few people. What I remember the most from my time there was the “prayers of the people.” This community’s liturgical practice and tradition allow space to share their thanks and lamentations with one another. This time in the service was authentic, raw, and certainly holy.

August 22nd, 2018: Taste the Spirit – Statesville, NC

The day before classes started back at Wake Forest I, and several other local pastors in Statesville, hosted an event we decided to call “Taste the Spirit.”

My pastoral peers, and good friends, Wes Pitts and Carrilea Hall meet every week to plan an ecumenical gathering called Water into Wine. It’s a bible study for people who don’t like bible studies. From this endeavor, we have helped bring together a group of people who are interested in engaging their faith as well as their community. Taste the Spirit came out of this group’s desire to do something different and yet preserve something old. With a slight nod to old school tent revivals, we threw up our own Holy Ghost tent, found some musicians to lead our hymns, grilled some food, provided a couple of kegs of NC beer, and broke bread in an act of communion. We did all of this on the lawn of First Presbyterian Church in the middle of downtown Statesville. Wes, Carrilea, Reggie Keitt from Mt. Pleasant AME Zion Church, and myself shared a collaborative message in how we approach and benefit from the Spirit of God using Romans chapter 12 as our basis. I spoke for several minutes about overcoming evil with good and, as you might imagined, shared a story or two about Will Campbell.

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September 4th, 2018: First Baptist Church – Statesville, NC

Labor Day (affectionately referred to as National Associate Pastor Sunday).

My final sermon of the summer allowed me to make a full circle; both starting and finishing at FBC – Statesville. The state of NC was gaining national attention due to the incidents coming out of the college town of Chapel Hill. A confederate statue had been brought down by protestors and those holding opposing views had began clashing on UNC’s campus (as I type this, they still are). My inspiration for this message was done in response to the comments I read by people on social media news feeds. I posed the unpopular question, “what’s wrong with us?” Referencing the Old Testament prophets and citing the prophet Isaiah, I challenged those with ears to hear what making idols out of stone and wood can do to a people. In those moments, like the prophets, the people of God need to embody what author Kathleen Norris describes as a “necessary other.” It wasn’t the easiest message to give, but it was the one that needed to be given.

The winds of change are forever blowing. Here’s to that same spirit ushering in similar experiences in the Fall.

As you were,

~tBSB

Accepted: Finding Grace Among Adults with Intellectual Disabilities: Guest Writer Austin Maynor

People use the word “privileged” a lot these days, and most time one might cringe upon its release. That is not the case however when I use it to describe my friendship with Austin. Austin is a gift to all that know him as seen by his article below.…

People use the word “privileged” a lot these days, and most time one might cringe upon its release. That is not the case however when I use it to describe my friendship with Austin. Austin is a gift to all that know him as seen by his article below. 

Spending the summer as the Duke Divinity School (DDS) field education intern in a L’Arche community was for me the fulfillment of a long-standing dream. Like countless others, my introduction to the organization came through the writings of Henri Nouwen and, later, Jean Vanier. A couple of years after I read Nouwen’s book The Inner Voice of Love, I consumed his posthumously published Adam in nearly one sitting. It remains one of the most formative volumes that I have ever read. Even before I knew how to properly pronounce its French name, I was keenly aware that the mission of L’Arche had touched me very deeply and that I was attracted me to their way of life. However, given that both of these writers were formed in the Roman Catholic tradition, I perceived that L’Arche would have little use for a Baptist like me. I assumed this for years until I learned through the field education office that the organization was ecumenical and that I could live into this yearning by serving as an intern. With the summer well under way, I arrived on the Washington D.C. community’s doorstep on the evening of June 5th after a tediously long train ride from North Carolina. Once I had deposited my bags onto the floor of my small bedroom, an obviously seasoned assistant gave me a brief tour of Ontario House and left me to rest from my travels. Before we parted ways, I told her that I feared how my tired exhaustion may have made me seem especially aloof. She responded by saying: “You don’t have to be any sort of way to be here.” I had no idea just how important that phrase would become over the next ten weeks.

Contrary to my initial hopes and expectations, life as an assistant did not come easily for me. Though I had done some ministry among students with intellectual disabilities while I was a resident chaplain at Campbell University, the duties of a L’Arche assistant were entirely foreign. To get acquainted with these duties, my time at the Ontario House began with the immersive experience of a fast-paced (albeit incredibly thorough) orientation that exhausted me early on. I was simultaneously learning the unique dimensions of each core member’s personality, and this demanded my undivided attention at times when I had so little to give. This whirlwind of information, as well as the feeling of inadequacy over a new job about which I knew nothing, indicated to me that I might not be the sort of assistant that I had expected to be. Though I relish a good conversation, I am not an extraordinarily gregarious person. I usually amass energy while I am alone. With rare exception, I nearly always maintain a calm, steady demeanor that makes it difficult for me to “loosen up” by making animal noises or singing silly songs loudly for everyone to hear. Somewhere along the way, I became convinced these things were two essential marks of a good assistant. Because I connect so deeply with the literature that has come out of L’Arche, I assumed that I might miraculously acquire them within the atmosphere of any given community. Learning that I was still Austin Maynor came as unwelcome news for my insecure spirit. These frustrations boiled over into much of my internship, making it difficult to return to work on some days. Thanks to the incredible direction of my supervisor, I realized that L’Arche’s message of affirmation was not exclusively reserved for the residents (they’re called core members at L’Arche). It was for assistants, too. Realizing that I “don’t have to be any sort of way,” I slowly became comfortable in my own shoes (frequently penny loafers, to be exact) as a person who brings both gifts and weaknesses to a community like Ontario House. That person–not the fantasized version of myself to which I cling so frequently–is the one L’Arche affirms and the one whom God loves. At the core of the Judeo-Christian tradition is the imperative to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, and so it makes sense that it was not until I acquired my own affirmation that I was able to appropriately dispense it to my friends at Ontario House.

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As a summer intern, my name was added to a long list of temporary assistants who make a brief appearance into the very full life of a L’Arche community before leaving abruptly at a predetermined date. The fact of my presence was welcomed by some core members, but it was heavily resisted by others. Though it became easier to navigate in the final weeks, grappling with this frequent rejection was very difficult and often infuriating to the point of having to step away for a break. Still, a core person’s rejection is entirely plausible. Since I was a stranger to them, my fairly insistent grip around their gait belt or my presence in their shower routine was understandably perceived as an unwelcome intrusion. Just as any other person might do, they sometimes loudly refused my assistance in order to restore their sense of security. When standing on the receiving end of this rejection, it was easy to inhabit an angry disposition and become distant from the person in order to protect myself from the emotional upheaval that results from conflict. Doing this comes at great cost, though, because to reject the person is to reject the image of God. L’Arche has taught me that it is when we accept the risk of becoming present with others that we encounter the gifts that they offer to the world. Ten weeks is not a very long time, but it is long enough to establish relationships with four adults who, in the words of Thomas Merton, are “shining like the sun” with the radiance of God’s luminous image.

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My internship concluded nearly a month ago, and I have since returned to the orbit of the familiar by entering a new semester at Duke. Even though I am now absent from the Ontario House community, I expect that the lessons that these cherished people taught me will continue to form me as a person and as a minister. During my last twenty-four hours in Washington, I visited each of the four core members one last time. This would be goodbye for the foreseeable future. I will always remember the hugs, the smiles, and the tears, but one memory has become especially valuable to me. When I reached the core person with whom I had shared the most tension, I stood on the other side of his door and remembered how our summer had gone and how much we had learned about each other. When I told him that I was leaving the next morning, he didn’t quite understand why. “Are you taking another job?” he asked me. I replied that I had to return home to get ready for the new semester. When he understood this, he told me that I could come back any time because I was now “part of the family.” He then blessed me twice before I finally closed the door and walked downstairs. When I saw him again the next morning, he offered yet another blessing. With two fingers raised in benediction, he prayed: “God, we come to you today to pray for a member of our community. Today is his last day. Go in peace with God, Austin.” I savored this blessing while I rode the train back to North Carolina, and the only word that came to mind that accurately described what I had been given was “grace.” As Paul Tillich once preached,

In the light of this grace we perceive the power of grace in our relation to others                          and to ourselves. We experience the grace of being able to look frankly into the eyes of another, the miraculous grace of reunion of life with life… We experience                       the grace of being able to accept the life of another, even if it be hostile and harmful to us, for, through grace, we know that it belongs to the same Ground to which we     belong, by which we have been accepted… And in the light of this grace we perceive the power of grace in relation to ourselves” (The Shaking of the Foundations, 162).

In this particular core member I encountered the Jesus who accepts both of us and delights in our shared communion. During his earthly ministry, Jesus shared his life among the people whom society had exiled, and he taught that it is among these people that he makes himself known (Matt. 25:40). People living with intellectual disabilities would have been included in Jesus’ circle of friends. Though often forced into the shadow of cultural abandon, they are a diverse, lively people among whom the Son of God can reliably be found.  I have experienced Jesus through my friends at L’Arche, and through their own distinct voices Jesus has spoken these lessons of forgiveness, affirmation, and celebration directly to me. Just as he was about to ascend into heaven, Jesus commanded his disciples to bear witness to the work he had done and to live out what they had seen him do (28:18-20). On a basic level, Jesus’ “Great Commission” informs us that an encounter with the living Christ always results in a shared testimony with the rest of the world (Acts 1:8). The people of L’Arche understand this, and they sing it frequently during celebration gatherings:

  Roll right over the ocean! Roll right over the sea!

  Go back to your homes and build community!

  It’s us! It’s us! It’s us that builds community!

This summer’s fresh encounter with Jesus now compels me to live out of the beauty that I have witnessed. Indeed, that small community that is nestled in a row house on a busy street in Washington, D.C. testifies to a vision that extends beyond its four walls. That vision is not easy, and it demands much from all who commit to its realization. Even with its demands, it paves the way for a life in which I am called to listen more intentionally, to celebrate every good gift, to forgive with understanding and humility, and to open myself daily to the mystery of community through which Jesus’ message of radical love and affirmation can be heard and proclaimed again and again.

The Christian Heresy of Islamophobia: Guest Writer Kenly Stewart

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When you get a Facebook message from someone late in the evening asking if they can write something for your blog with this much significance you respond emphatically with a "yes." Big thanks to Kenly for offering this insightful call for repentance. AS YOU WERE. ~tBSB

Around 180 C.E. Saint Irenaeus, Bishop and Martyr of the Church, wrote a classic work of apologetics titled Against Heresies. In the opening of the work, Irenaeus makes a very important observation regarding the nature in which heresies are presented:

"Error, indeed, is never set forth in its naked deformity, lest, being thus exposed, it should at once be detected. But it is craftily decked out in an attractive dress, so as, by its outward form, to make it appear to the inexperienced (ridiculous as the expression may seem) more true than the truth itself."

My friends, the great heresy that has infected modern America Christianity is the heresy of Islamophobia. Those who preach Islamophobia as a necessary stance of the church are masters at presenting Islamophobia in "an attractive dress.” Tragically, many "inexperienced" Christians will take their words about Islam/Muslims to heart. Once these words are taken to heart, one of two things can happen. Either Christians will support and even partake in Islamophobic rhetoric/actions. Or maybe even worse, Islamophobia will lead Christians to be indifferent and apathetic towards the plight of their Muslim neighbors.

Islamophobia in post-9/11 America has not only been on the rise but it has been extremely successful. This success has come in no small part from American Christians who actively preach and listen to Islamophobic rhetoric, those who actually participate in anti-Muslim activities, and those who ignore Islamophobia. For those who may doubt the severity of the situation, I point you to a 2017 study from the Pew Research Center. Using FBI Criminal Statistics, Pew shows that hate crimes and assaults against Muslims have now surpassed the levels of such crimes that happened immediately following 9/11.

For Christians the rise of Islamophobia in America should not only concern us for political and legal reasons. Islamophobia should concern us theologically, because it is a heresy against Christ and the teachings of the Bible. First and foremost as Christians, we believe God chose to reveal God's self in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. With that core theological assertion in mind, Christians should never forget the historical Jesus was a persecuted religious minority, a native of the Middle East with brown skin, and he was executed by an imperial power in the name of "national security."

If we close our eyes and imagine ourselves in the first century, we can almost hear the Roman authorities discussing Jesus, that radical, troublemaking Jew. We can also hear the Romans discussing the early followers of Jesus that continued to cause trouble after his death:

“His religion is dangerous and poses a threat.”

“He and his followers are all crazy zealots.”

“There is no such thing as a peaceful follower of Jesus.”

“They need to learn once and for all this is a Roman nation.”

“You know if he had just stayed quiet and out of view everything would be fine, but he                            insisted on practicing his crazy beliefs openly.”

“Maybe we should ban all the followers of Jesus from the Roman Empire?”

 Islamophobes attack, discredit, and persecute Muslims by using the same line of reasoning used by the Romans to crucify Jesus and persecute the early church. I have yet to encounter any form of Islamophobia that does not rely on “othering” Muslims and presenting their religion as somehow dangerous, threatening, and backwards (like the Romans did with the early church). Christian Islamophobia means Christians have not only turned their backs on their Muslim siblings, it means they have turned their backs on Christ.

Christian Islamophobia relies heavily on American Christians being ignorant about Islam and having no close personal relationships with Muslims. Islamophobes use this ignorance to misrepresent the teachings of Islam or teach complete fabrications. How does this count as a heresy you may ask? Well for starters we are told in both testaments of the Bible (literally in both the Ten Commandments and by Jesus himself) that "You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor." Bearing "false witness" against Muslims, along with racism, are the key ingredients to produce bigotry in the form of Islamophobia.

 I think most Christians would agree that loving our neighbors, because Christ loved us, serves as one of the central claims of Christianity. Some Christians may not like to admit it, but Muslims are our neighbors and we have an obligation to them. As we are told by Saint Paul in Romans 13:10 "Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law." Yet love is a verb, it demands action. As Christians, we cannot truly love Muslims if we are partaking in Islamophobia. As Christians, if we truly love Muslims, we cannot sit in silence and do nothing when we witness Islamophobia, be it on the street or from the pulpit on Sundays. To love our Muslims neighbors faithfully, it means we stand with them.

So what is my advice to combat the heresy of Christian Islamophobia? First meet and befriend Muslims (they don't bite... usually). Educate yourself about Islam, preferably from Muslims themselves, but at the very least check the sources you are reading, listening to, and learning from. Visit a mosque one Friday. Stop comparing the best of Christianity with the worst of Islam (look at Matthew 7:3-5 for more on this). If you see or hear Islamophobia do something!!! Remember there were people in the crowd who began shouting for the crucifixion of Jesus. But there must have been those who recognized an innocent man was being condemned to die (even Pilate recognized his innocence), yet they remained silent and did nothing. Doing nothing and remaining silent when confronted with Islamophobia makes you like those in the crowd who watched in silence as Jesus was condemned. And guess what? You cannot wash your hands of that.  

 To truly combat Islamophobia as a Christian, all you have to do is love like Jesus, which means love with no exceptions. That will ensure you take the correct course.

 Thanks for reading,

 Kenly Stewart

Why Young Families Don't Have Churches.

For those that don't get the reference, educate yourself HERE. 

For those that don't get the reference, educate yourself HERE. 

Earlier this week I posted a blog of why mainline churches are having problems getting young families to walk through their doors. The article received a good response, and because of this, I wanted to offer a different perspective on the issue. It would be easy to cast all the blame on the churches, but I believe like in any relationship that goes sour there are two parties at fault. Hence, the need for the other side of the coin.

Below I offer 3 push backs to why young families have some work to do on their end as well.

  1. Churches want you to get over yourself: Steeple churches in their desire to bring in young families are often depicted as desperate. In my last blog, I laid out why this desperation can become suffocating and produce an environment where the congregation becomes stagnant to the point where they stop trying to bring in any new families. The flip side; some churches gear their entire evangelizing efforts towards young families. And just like a 5-star college recruit, young families know they are wanted by everyone. When you know you’re wanted you begin to feel entitled to certain things, but those expectations should be rooted in reality. Your first couple of visits to a church shouldn’t require a red carpet treatment. Don’t count on everyone in the congregation to drop everything to focus on you. The pastor(s) may not be able to greet you properly on those first few visits (trust me, Sunday mornings can be nuts). What I’m asking for is understanding and a little bit of grace. You’re trying to figure them out, and they, in turn, are trying to figure you out. C.S. Lewis in his popular work Mere Christianity says “The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up early each morning.” Young families need to be looking for these meaningful moments from fellow parishioners in the hallways, parking lots, or at the Applebees after church instead of focusing on who didn’t speak to them during those first few awkward visits.  
  2. Churches think you should at least know what your walking into (and in this age of information overload, they’re right): Websites, websites, websites. I’ve written about this before in at least one other post, but getting online and doing some research before you visit a church is essential. I’ve heard stories from people who’ve visited churches and were completely taken back by what they heard and saw that morning. For example, if you have a strong theologically opinion on the role of women in leadership positions in the church you might want to check their website to see if any women are serving on staff with the title of “minister” instead of “director.” Websites “should” give enough information for young families to tell if they have any sort of children’s programming, if they have a functioning nursery, or if they prefer children to stay in the sanctuary during worship. Information about worship style is usually stated as well, which might help indicate whether the church is contemporary or more traditional. Of course, this demands that churches actually have a working up to date website. Spending a few minutes browsing their page could save young families from entering a space that isn’t prepared or even a good fit for them. Take up some responsibility in this area.
  3. Churches think you’re fickle: I have a family member who became actively involved at an aging church. After some time, she was asked to volunteer for “children’s church” which was made up of mostly elementary aged youths. This family member told me how surprised she was when she noticed after several weeks that none of the younger families volunteered to help even when it involved working with children who were the same age as their own. After a few months, she removed herself from the small rotation of what she considered little more than a “babysitting club.” If young families are wanting to become part of a faith community they need to be present in those communities. I know families are capable of making these types of decisions for their kids because when I pass a local soccer field at 8:15am on my way to church every Sunday the place is packed! In those instances, becoming a soccer parent or helping coach a team is part of the deal. Church participation works in the same way. My point is; show up, be prepared to get involved, and be consistent. It’s hard to take you seriously when they never see you.

Bottom line; the church is wanting to hand the reins to someone. The reason the church isn’t different, more affirming, more tolerant, more relevant, etc...is because you’re not there. 

Why Your Church Doesn't Have Young Families.

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My professor at Wake Forest School of Divinity Bill Leonard describes the post-Christendom era in which western cultures exists as the “end of Protestant privilege.” Watching the decline of mainline denominations in the United States has become a constant reminder of this fact. Once an influential institution, the western church has seen numbers spiral downwards on Sunday mornings while watching the pendulum swing towards a universally broader understanding of spirituality that includes the religiously unaffiliated, i.e. the “nones.”

The reality of this situation has produced everything from “seeker sensitive” churches to a resurgence in perceived biblical orthodoxy, all sought in hopes of “righting the ship” to remain relevant. In this process, the return of megachurches in the same ilk of J. Frank Norris’ First Baptist Church in Fort Worth TX at the beginning of the 20th century, began to pop up and see spikes in attendance. WillowCreek, Saddleback, NorthPoint, and Elevation (a short list of megachurches) refuted the belief that church had gone the way of the hula hoop. Their accomplishments were seen and noted, with attempts to replicate fast underway. However, decades later, sanctuaries designed to hold 300 persons still remain half-filled most weeks outside Christmas and Easter.

What and where is the disconnect? Why aren’t young people and young families walking through the church doors? I offer a few observations on the matter…

  1. Young families see an empty willingness. Not long ago, I was speaking with the pastor of a small suburban church, and like most, he too was experiencing an average age well over 60yrs old on Sunday mornings. Because of other internal crises within the church, he and church leadership brought in an outside consultant to help perform a congregational assessment. Part of this exercise was listing at least three things the entire church wanted to see happen heading into the future, and of course, attracting young families was on the list. As the leaders began to break down how this would be accomplished, they discovered that due to a lack of willing volunteers and limited resources ranging from creating space (youth areas and child care) to purchasing teaching curriculum, achieving this by the standards they were familiar with was impossible. When the time came to re-evaluate their goals, the pastor said his congregation had completely taken “young families” off the list. They just didn’t see it as something possible for them to achieve. This leads to...

  2. Inadequacy & Self-imposed shame. Often when you feel like you failed at something you tend not to talk much about it when the topic comes up. It makes us uncomfortable when weakness is exposed. Another pastor friend told me of the first church she was called to right out of seminary. It was a rural church made up of a handful of families. She shared with me that on one Sunday morning two new families showed up for the 11am worship service. Both families had children and she was excited to see how the congregation, who like the one in the example above, desired to see more young people fill their pews every week. The way her church’s worship was structured, there was a time at the end of the service where people went downstairs for extended fellowship over a light snack. Her senior pastor reminded everyone of this before the benediction, and my friend was sure these two families were going to be descended upon by the rest of the congregation as soon as her pastor let the last “amen” drop. Much to her surprise, no one spoke to the families! The regulars made a beeline for the food downstairs and left the new families alone in the sanctuary. My friend said she was able to introduce herself to one of the families while the other slipped out a side door. I told her this sounded like a missed opportunity to which she truthfully admitted to me her church at that time had little of what could be considered any ministries geared towards younger families with children. Thinking about this, perhaps some churches stop inviting young couples in because they feel as if they have little to offer.

  3. Lastly, the inability to separate appreciation of tradition vs. actually living out traditions. Writer Daniel Quinn in his work Ishmael says, “ Our ancient customs are nice for institutions, ceremonies, and holidays but we don’t want to adopt them for everyday living.” I would argue this way of thinking has found its way into people’s modern understanding of church, and this is a direct result of faith practices being limited to a structure. The institutionalism of church has fostered a belief which dictates holiness be kept between stained glass windows and narthexes. I often hear people say on Sunday, “have a nice week” indicating their actions with each other begin and end on Sunday mornings. Is this the result of a tradition which was handed down, or is there something more to this idea of being church? I believe we need to focus our attention on the latter.

While I gave some examples of stories I’ve heard, I know that there are many more out there with similar endings. Stories of churches unsure of how to approach their inability to draw in young people and families whether because of lack of resources, shame, or hanging on to limiting traditions. Hear me when I say, for those with ears to hear, there is hope. However, there must be space to challenge old mindsets. To push back against formulated programs guaranteeing success. To be willing to step into uncomfortable spaces. Being able to see other possibilities for connection. Instead of viewing invitations into designated buildings on Sunday as the only way to expose them to Christ’s Church, might we invite them over to our home for supper? Perhaps planning to attend one of their children’s little league baseball game is another? We need to start seeing that going to a recital and cheering on their child’s solo performance as a big “C”hurch moment.

I could be wrong, but if you show up in those moments you might just find that young people and young families won’t really care if you have the most state of the art facilities. Your compassion and presence are what is truly being desired.

Sacred & Profane: A Call To A Life of Disruption.

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I woke early this morning, 4am to be exact. Lauren and Violet were still asleep less than a arms lengths away, and after a bit of tossing and turning, I decided to go ahead and make coffee and do some reading.

I have been plowing through some books that through the school year only allowed me to read a chapter here and there. Reading an entire book from start to finish is like listening to a vinyl record. It takes a conscious effort to skip around if one chooses, and while digital downloads are convenient something is just lost in the process. Maybe that’s why good albums from start to finish are a rare thing. Maybe books are the same way too.

When I read I pay attention to footnotes and references to other source material. Higher Ed has trained me to think in this manner. Usually, at a break in the story, I’ll do a quick search of an author or source material mentioned and distract myself usually longer than I intend. This morning I did just that and found a quote from one of my Wake Divinity professors talking about one of my favorite Christian anarchists.

While I’ll spare you the names and the backdrop, a statement was made of this individual saying they could “sanctify profanity like no one else.”

Sanctify profanity. I like the sound of that.

 It sounds like Church work to me. Hear me when I say “Church” work which shouldn’t be confused with “steeple” work. Steeples churches are institutions which, be they good or bad, will eventually become self-absorbed, self-preserving, and self-serving in some form or fashion. Sometimes it’s hard to see this, especially if the institution's ideology lines up closely with our own. Institutions are always looking for acolytes to carry their messages and purposefully initiate innovative conversions. Be they hate-filled messages laced with racial rhetoric of superiority or university mottos which implore one to bow before the academic throne, BOTH are done so to keep a self-focused creed moving along.

The Church Jesus spoke of in Matthew Chapter 16 is far removed from “steeple works.” Yet Church, instead of engaging creation and acknowledging ALL HAVE been reconciled through the incarnated Christ, we erect steeples…Instead of seeing and affirming that Christ has already sanctified all which is profane, we substituted divine reconciliation for a structure of dogmatic beliefs. A swing and a miss. If the definition of sin is to “miss the mark,” then I think it’s safe to say the institutional church has, and is, sinning.

For those that know me and know I work within the institutional church, let me be quick to say I confess and see the “beam in my own eye” (Matt. 7:5) as a problem that needs correcting. Now to try and think I could simply fix the issue would perpetuate what Baptist have been doing since their emergence; splitting while still producing the same result. I do not wish to fabricate another “steeple,” because that’s what happens when we think “if we just did it this way it would be better.” I’m taking a different approach and it’s the only one I feel somewhat qualified to perform; to work on the fringe while simultaneously being a "detached voice, offering criticism that is provocative yet rarely heeded."* This means steeple churches need a Minister of Disruption so to speak. Someone to call them back to the Church of a 1st century Galilean. One who has, and is continuing, to sanctify the profane.

 That is the message of reconciliation. That is the message of the Church. That is the Gospel.

*Will Campbell: Radical Prophet of the South, Merrill M. Hawkins, Jr. 

Old Wells and Rabbit Holes: A Reflection on Classism in the South.

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Concerning the summer months in the South I love them solely for two reasons; being that Fall is the next season away and the pleasure I get at despising the heat and humidity. However, I might need to revise and add a third to my shortlist. Higher education forcible imposes on one a list of readings every semester, while the summer allows one to lean into personal interest and preferred learnings.

I’ve devoured much of Will D. Campbell’s writings over the past two years. Yet, there remain selections I’ve only skimmed for one purpose or another. Providence is one such work. Campbell chronicles the story of a square mile acre farm in Mississippi and how the land changed hands over the years. In one chapter I came across a line which took me back to my own upbringing. Here Campbell has returned to his family’s farmland in Amite County, Mississippi and is drawing water from an old well.

I had forgotten how heavy a well bucket full of water is. I strained to bring it up from the sixty-five foot hole in the ground, wondering if it would be clear and cold as I remembered it being when I was a boy. I tilted the bucket and drank directly from it. It had no taste at all: pure water never does. (Providence, 113)

While Campbell and I are two if not three generations apart in age, I too grew up on a family farm which still had a traditional well on the property. It was located at the “old homestead” where my great grandfather John Addison Stigall had raised, among other children, my two great aunts Emmie and Minnie. These two women remained in this structure, some of which had been built right after the Civil War, until the 1990s. My childhood summers were spent at the homestead, and drawing well water was an everyday occurrence. We would draw the water and dip a large metal ladle into the cool extract of the earth and drink deeply.  My memory too makes me believe the water was tasteless just like Campbell describes.

The thing with memories is one us usually produces another and down a “rabbit hole” I went. I begin recalling other times with aunt Emmie and Minnie. Both loved to play games; Emmie more of the table variety such as Rook while Minnie, who my entire family affectionately referred to as “Mole,” would play outdoor games such as “kick the can” and “roller-bat.” It was thinking of these games which caused me to conjure up and old “tag” game the two women taught me and other children in the family. The game was attached to a song/rhyme.

How far is it to Molly Bright?

Three scores and ten.

Can I get there by candlelight?

Yes, if your legs are long and light…

But you better watch out for two red-headed witches on the way.

I hadn’t thought of that rhyme in years and was surprised how easily I was able to draw it, much like the well water, from memory. Where had this song come from? I decided to sit aside Campbell’s book for a moment and do a quick Google search to see what was out there on the subject. Not four hits down I came across a source from a work entitled Stolen Childhood, Slave Youth in Nineteenth-Century America. The author, Wilma King, writes,

Sometimes black and white children played together and learned from each other. Similarities in the play of children of different cultures and national origins male it possible to say definitely where an activity originated. Formal European games became part of the slave child’s repertoire, but regional color and flavor added distinction. Children of African descent gave songs unique sounds and added clapping rhythms, dance steps, and body motions that were unmistakably a part of their own culture. (122)

On the following pages King gives an example of what young bondservants (someone bound in service without wages) sung during the period.

Can I git to Molly’s bright?

Three course and ten.

Can I get there by candlelight?

Yes, if your legs are long and light.

This version was derived from a British game called “Barley Break” which when it crossed the Atlantic became “Marlow Bright.”

Marlow, marlow, marlow bright,

How many miles to Babylon?

Threescore and ten.

Can I get there by candlelight?

Yes, if your legs are long as light.

Upon further searching, I discovered a mention of a “witch” in Folklore and Folklife, An Introduction. In this rendition, the above rhyme is the same, but a final verse is added. “But take care of the old gray witch by the roadside!” This is the game I remember from my youth where groups of players stand at opposite ends of a designated play area and began reciting the rhyme back and forth to one another. The game is afoot after the mention of the witch who attempts to tag players in hopes of making them witches as well. The game ends when only one player is left untagged. Games in a similar style have been played since Elizabethan times. (Robert George, 178-179)

Because correct wording matters little to children, Marlow Bright became Molly Bright to young African-American adolescents. Reading this, I became aware the version my aunts had passed down to me shared more in common with the African-American slave children tradition. Why?

Because my people, poor rural working-class whites born before and after a Reconstructed South, had more in common with their black counterparts than they had with their fellow white, but aristocratic, neighbors. Make no mistake, both groups suffered differently, but both suffered under manufactured oppression. While I would never want to make comparable the treatment of those who were sold in chains from Charleston to the Chesapeake Bay as the same as those coming from European countries as either serfs or indentured servants, I believe a shared distinction of classism was thrust upon both by a benefiting “third party.”

I took my eyes off the computer screen and flipped back to the previous chapter in Campbell’s Providence. Campbell had something to offer concerning the social status of poor whites,  

Standing in the wings with both envy and awe, watching the prosperous few alter forever the world they had known, were the early white settlers who had eked out a meager existence on ground they often claimed by impinging extralegally upon Indian territory but which the newcomers, interlopers to these simple and hardworking folks, were quick to point out they did not own and probably never would. Yet they stayed on. To become the tools of the new aristocracy. To serve as plantation overseers on horseback, supervising the black slavedrivers who prodded their fellow slaves to greater productivity with bullwhips. Stayed on to become their ‘white trash,’ disregarded in matters of government, education, and commerce until they would be needed to fight a war in which they had no stake at all. It would be they who would swell the ranks of the Confederate army, would, for the first time , be needed and evangelized by the learned chaplains of the patricians who would convince them theirs was a holy war, and that, incidentally, there were human beings - black people - to whom they were superior. Down the road lay a revolt of these whom the carriage trade callously referred to as ‘rednecks,’ but for now, in this formative period of the Cotton Kingdom, they were not needed. (Providence, 100)

White trash, redneck, or whatever derogatory title imposed upon a people group; these are distinctions between the “haves and have-nots.” People exploited for their work and their need to be seen as equal. Manipulated in order to ensure another group of people’s rights be kept from them. Both parties suffering while casting blame in the wrong direction.

But not children. There we find hope.

Somewhere, and I’ve got some digging to do, is an intersecting an interesting story of how my great aunts learned a song sung by the children of former slaves. My hunch is that somewhere in the hot humid summers of the South’s past a game was played by children and sides were picked. Teams were not based on “color,” but on the willingness to participate. Their parents had worked alongside each other for the same patron but had been pitted against one another for the purpose of division. When the game was over and the children returned home, this spirit of disunity was allowed to fester in their segregated communities. That’s the story, that’s the shared tragedy, which has been left at the bottom of the universal well of the South.

I mean to draw it out, but I’m going to need some help.

As you were,

~tBSB

#CoolToo

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Recently, Lauren attended a baby shower for a friend back in Raleigh. While there, one of her past co-workers brought a basket of gifts for Lauren and I to celebrate the birth of our own baby, Violet. Inside was a onesie which, as you see below, plays to my association with all things facial hair.

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"If you're Dad doesn't have a beard, you really have two Moms."

Clever, humorous, and I'm sure offensive to some. It was this thought which made me pause as I began to upload this image to social media. Without explanation, if I were to post this image on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, etc...what theological implications would I be applying? Words and actions carry weight, and I want mine to be significant. Often I get pigeonholed by others as of having a certain way of thinking, and these assumptions depend a lot on the crowds I find myself in at different times. Do I feel a certain way about this or that issue? Does feeling that way about "Issue A" automatically makes me feel a certain way about "Issue B?" What I've come to see is that when folks can categorize you they are more likely to judge you, and if I can help it, I don't like giving them that satisfaction.

That's why I want to start something a bit different. Something that doesn't promote sameness, but encourages unity. That's why in my social media post about the onsie I said, "But ya' know if you have two mom's that's pretty #cooltoo." 

#Cooltoo I hope fosters open dialogue while still encouraging individual perspective and honoring personal experiences.

"I grew up with a mom and a dad. You grew up with two moms. That's #cooltoo"

"I'm a parent, but you're not. That's #cooltoo because we both know what its like to have responsibilities."

"I like sausage you like pepperoni, but that's #cooltoo because we both like them on pizza." 

"I'm liberal you're conservative, but that's #cooltoo because we both think taking care of the earth is important."

"I'm Christian you're Muslim, but that's #cooltoo because our faith is an active expression of love in this world."

If anything, the spirit of what #cooltoo is dialogue with others. It's a movement based on adding "and yes, instead of but no." 

I hope you find a place to put this idea into practice, but if you dont...that's #cooltoo

Cheers,

~tBSB

The Spirit of Love vs. Jeff Sessions

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This past Sunday, on Father’s Day, I was asked to preach at First Baptist Statesville where I currently serve as Minister to Students. I get this opportunity every few months and am thankful for the chance to share a “word from God” with those in the congregation. My sermon had already been written, that is to say, I thought it was complete.

And then Jeff Sessions said what he said and I was left to do a bit of revising.

The focus of my sermon dealt with love. I know, I know...pretty safe topic for sure. However, I felt that a focus on love is what the world is needing at this moment (really, it needs love at every moment). The reaction Bishop Michael Curry Royal Wedding sermon received is proof that people want to hear more about love. Most people I would argue believe they have love figured out. They have experienced it in some form and fashion, and love has been categorized as the “old dog with no new tricks.” I'm telling you we shouldn’t write love off so easily.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus has been traveling with his disciples for a length of time. These 12 individuals and the others who are not so easily counted, followed this young, enigmatic, mystical carpenter had certainly experienced love before. They had grown up in a faith that taught them that the God of the universe was for them. They were God’s people, they were chosen. There’s an aspect of love in that sort of relationship, and then that same love becomes incarnate and walks among them. Not only does this God-man, Christ, appear and call them, but he enters into a deeper relationship of love with them. Biblical scholars have debated on the length of Jesus’ ministry, but I surmise that whatever the time, in the 14th Chapter of John’s Gospel these disciples probably thought they knew what love was. Then Christ tells them that love is going to get a lot bigger. That this “advocate” that this “counselor” that this “Spirit of love” which is God is going to come and live within their hearts and change the way they understand love.

I’ve had a moment like that where love got bigger. Lauren and I have been married now for 5 years, and we’ve known each other just shy of a decade. Through her I have experienced love in a way I had not before, and just about the time I thought I was getting a handle on that sort of love...here comes Violet.

And love simply got bigger.

This past week I was at a conference that had me away in the mountains of western NC. Cell phone service was a bit iffy in my location, but Wifi was available and so on Wednesday night I decided to FaceTime Lauren to talk with her and to check up on Violet. When she answered the call I saw the two of them and as Lauren focused her screen on to Violet’s face my eyes began to produce Niagara Falls type tears.

I knew at that moment I was leaving. I drove the two hours home to eat dinner with my family and sleep beside them. No not with Lauren and I in a nice cozy bed (we bought a new mattress right after Violet was born and have YET to sleep on it) and Violet in a crib beside us. I sleep on a past it’s prime IKEA couch while Lauren and the babe co-sleep in a large Lazy Boy recliner beside me. Then waking up at 6am, I drove back to the mountains in order to make it to the first session of the day at the conference. That’s a new kind of love I didn’t have before. Being separated from my family physically hurt me, and that’s why I had to include in my sermon that the same spirit of love Christ spoke of was the same spirit that calls his people now to stand against any policy, legislation, law which would separate children from their parents. People can debate immigration reform, but trying to justify this with a bastardized rendition of Paul’s letter to the church in Rome displays nothing of a spirit of love. Instead, it shows a hermeneutic where compassion for fellow humans is disregarded for the betterment of the State. According to the Roman State, Jesus the deity Christians claim to worship, was considered a criminal.

Jesus became a criminal and prisoner of society and was executed for us. All! Everyone! When we call him Lord! Lord! we are therefore calling upon a Lord who was and is a prisoner after the same manner of those eleven prisoners who speak to us in the pages of this book (Bible). It is for them, as for the criminals who were executed with Him, that Jesus died and was raised to life. We cannot take refuge in our law-abidingness, our good citizenship and economics, for our Lord was Himself executed as a criminal and this brings freedom, resurrection, to them.

If, as we believe, the first Christian community was those three criminals and prisoners at their execution at Calvary, then we who call Him Lord! Lord! Must bear witness to his promise to the criminals and prisoners: “I tell you this: today you will be with me in paradise.”

The good news from God in Jesus is freedom to the prisoners.*

So let the State do what the State does. Let them try and justify their actions with literal interpretations of scripture. Let them try and separate and detain families (and no, this was not something established 20 years ago). AND when and while this happens, maybe we who claim to follow this criminal Jesus, we who claim to hold this spirit of love within our hearts, should head out to our tool sheds and grab a literal pick axe and head over to the county jail and “proclaim freedom to the captives and release them from the darkness of prison.” (Isaiah 61)

* Will Campbell & James Halloway

BNG: Powerful spiritual force needed to counter critical national, world challenges

The following piece was written by Jeff Brumley at Baptist News Global. Thanks to him and BNG for including me in this piece. The article can be read in its original format HERE. 

The following piece was written by Jeff Brumley at Baptist News Global. Thanks to him and BNG for including me in this piece. The article can be read in its original format HERE. 

Research shows that a slight majority of Americans believe religion can solve most of the world’s problems.

According to Gallup, 55 percent of Americans hold that view. Broken down by politics, 71 percent of Republicans and 47 percent of Democrats express that opinion. Protestants who attend church weekly are most likely to agree.

Justin Cox, a North Carolina youth minister, told Baptist News Global he hopes faith could tackle “issues surrounding sustainability and the environment” which “are rarely spoken from a pulpit.”

Cox is minister of students First Baptist Church in Statesville and a student at Wake Forest University School of Divinity.

Divine intervention may be key to countering ecological decline given the Drumpf administration’s systemic dismantling of regulations protecting the environment. But for Cox the conversation belongs in religion, not politics.

“Topics such as global warming and organic farming have been wrongly categorized as being political in nature which has contributed to an apathetic view towards stewardship of creation,” Cox said in an email to BNG. “Instead of co-creating with God in this process, humanity has chased self-preservation and glorification, resulting in the eradication of certain species of plants and animals.”

There was a time when many more in the U.S. were optimistic about the ability of religion to solve important challenges.

“In 1957, a time of greater religious commitment in the United States, 82 percent believed that religion could answer all or most of the day’s problems,” Gallup said.

That’s the year the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, striking fear in the hearts of millions of Americans. The Suez Canal crisis also raged, pitting East versus West and raising the specter of conflagration in the Middle East.

In 2002, 66 percent of adults surveyed said religion could solve most of the world’s problems, Gallup reported.

The wounds of 9-11 were fresh at that time and war was ramping up in Afghanistan. The future seemed terrifying to many.

The all-time low for trust in religion came in 2015 with 51 percent, though “Americans’ views on religion’s relevance in answering problems have since stabilized” in the 53 percent to 55 percent range, the organization said.

Despite the flagging trust in faith, its role could be crucial in ending the human tendency to dismiss different people as “others,” said Scarlette Jasper, Cooperative Baptist field personnel and executive director of Olive Branch Ministries in Somerset, Kentucky.

“I would like to see religion solve the issue of ‘othering,’” Jasper told BNG. “When we don’t see people through God’s eyes, then we are not loving people as God has intended us to love each other.”

Misfit Ministers and Seedy Sanctuaries

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I used to hear pastors joke about visiting neighboring towns in order to be able to buy Southern Comfort comfortably. The awkward conversations and stares occurring between clergy and parishioners as they make eye contact in liquor store aisles would be an interesting coffee table book (Episcopalians are of course excused from this self-imposed embarrassing interaction). Recently I was leaving a local grocery store in the community where I serve and had picked up a few libations as hospitality offerings for a social gathering later that afternoon when I ran into an individual from our church. My liquid spirits were not in a bag, instead, they hung loosely in one of my hands. The person and I exchanged pleasentries, nothing beyond the “good to see you” and “I hope the rain holds off today” idle chit-chat. We said our goodbyes and it wasn’t until I got in my car that the thought crossed my mind of what had been in my hand. For a generation of Baptist pastors, and certain Protestants groups now, this might have been a moment of experienced taboo…

But I’m not that kind of Baptist pastor.

Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber has spoken of her conviction in her published works and in several interviews to be a “pastor to her people.” Bolz-Weber feels a kinship to those in her community that don’t have a pastor or who aren’t typically welcomed into a traditional Christian community, i.e. those who identify as LGBTQ. From what I can tell, she is acting as a representation of Christ’s love to a group who has been shunned more by those claiming to be followers of Christ than welcomed and loved by them. According to her church’s website, Bolz-Weber and her congregation meet in a church which looks traditional. This means that those who might have a negative connotation towards “steeples” might have to set that aside in order to enter into this space. Bolz-Weber’s reputation precedes her and helps in that process, but it still presents a bit of overcoming for those who feel they are on the outside.

That’s why I like going to places where most church folk won’t, admittedly anyway, set foot in. These places, or what I would call “seedy sanctuaries,” are where raunchy reverends and misfit ministers need to frequent. Dive bars and bootleg houses make the list. Of course, I’m not entering these territories with the evangelical assurance and zeal of a cocky street preacher. Instead, I enter as just another fly on the wall; an individual looking for something cold to drink, and a place to share my story with others around the proverbial watering hole for a couple of hours. In this arena, I’m living out what Baptists call the “priesthood of all believers”. Everyone is on equal ground...especially when cheap beer is on draft.

I’ve had some deep and great conversations about faith in these shady places. I’ve drunk Guinness and prayed with a couple whose daughter was sick and I’ve offered a defense to others who thought they were beyond redemption. Between prayers and pints, I’ve made friendships and hopefully given folks in those moments a different look at what a pastor/preacher can be. And while this works for some, not all traditional church folk are on board. This is nothing new of course. People have been arguing since Pentecost on how to live out the Christ-centered community. Recently I’ve been reading an account of the start of Koinonia Farms and Clarence Jordan. Jordan and a handful of other pastors wanted to experiment a way of living which looked like the early first century Church; being in unity in all things and likewise sharing in their possessions. During the first several years, Jordan and others visited Hutterite and Bruderhof communities who were practicing a similar lifestyle. After a few visits to one of those communities, a family who had been on the farm for quite some time thought that the other group was living this mission out in a better way. They exchanged letters, and in one Jordan admits the shortcomings of himself and the community of Koinonia. While voicing his understanding that this experiment on a farm in South Georgia wasn’t perfect, he also says, “All of us know how much darkness there is in us at times, yet I have seen the light of God shining brilliantly in this little group here and I thrill to be part of it.”

I’ve seen this brilliant light of God too, shining on folks between beer taps and fluorescent signs.

I once had an individual question why a group of ministers, myself included, met at a local bottle shop to hold an interdenominational study. Why couldn’t we meet in a coffee shop or restaurant? The easy answer; because that’s where my people are and they're entitled to the good news too. For some, it’s hard to get past these types of locations. These are simply stumbling blocks for them.

I’m here to tell them they don’t have to. For those in those spaces, they have me and others like me.

Cheers to the oddballs on the offbeat path of faith.

Cheers to the God who loves them all the same.

As you were,

~tBSB