Ramblings of a Gringo

A few years ago I was teaching a class on urban evangelism at a conference in Texas. At the end of the presentation I opened it for questions, and one young preacher asked me for advice for reaching the Mexican-American community in his town. My response? 'Find yourself invited to quinceañeras... and attend. Barbaque in the park. Learn Spanish.' If we're not willing to embrace even some cultural practices of others, don't attempt Spanish ministry. Just don't do it.

Many Christian "gringos" desire to see church growth among the increasing Latino populations in their community, but we often fail to be incarnational. Jesus moved into culture and He fleshed out the Word (consider John 1; Philippians 2). We are called to the same incarnational ministry following the footsteps of Jesus. As a "gringo," the Gospel teaches me to value the cultures of others and whenever possible to flesh out the Gospel with respect to that culture. If there is not effort to move across cultural boundaries into the world of the "other" -- as Jesus did -- our efforts at urban ministry will often fall short of a Gospel witness.

My Spanish is not great. I often don't understand half of what others are saying. Often, I don't 'get' the worldview of others. On a regular basis I seek to understand the expressions and practices of Latinos, Africans, West Indians, young, old, etc -- not to mention my own multicultural marriage! However, I am often blown away by the appreciation and acceptance I receive for an honest effort. Besides, it is actually really humbling. For example, in English (my first language) I can articulate spiritual concepts effortlessly. In Spanish I feel inadequate; my reliance on the Holy Spirit increases exponentially. Through these experiences, my respect and empathy for others rises and my faith in God's power -- rather than my own -- is tested. This is a lesson that many "gringos" miss altogether.

As the face of western culture embraces pluralism and emerges as a multicultural context, one of the needs of the hour is for believers -- especially those from the dominant group but certainlly also those who have traditionally been marginalized -- to enter dialgue, to practice embrace, to learn the language of the "other." We need leaders who live think deeply of theological concerns and who will think critically of anthropological implications.

And to my 'gringo' brothers, isn't it about time we start showing some respect and learn Spanish.

Jesus, Heavy Metal, and the Journey of Re-discovery

I've been thinking a lot about Jesus lately. Does this statement seem strange to you? I hope so. But to many of you it won't, and here's why. I've been in church all my life, and while there have been many saints who have pointed me to the Lord, so much of church life has been focused on getting the rituals "right" and at times emphasizing the differences between what are, in reality, very similar churches. I went on to get training in ministry, and while I was taught and mentored by some profound saints, so much of this training is focused on how to manage church. So I enter into work as an urban missionary. Once again, the work of church organization comes very naturally.

So lately I've been thinking a lot about Jesus. I've digested writings by N.T. Wright. My wife and I have been reading Brian McClaren's new book, the Secret Message of Jesus. I've revisited the Gospels seeking to understand Jesus in His context. I've reflected on the interpretations of Jesus by movies like The Gospel of John and the Passion of the Christ. I've had an increasing number of conversations unpacking the implications of the Gospel. I've been thinking a lot about this guy, Jesus of Nazareth. And I realize that I've had some redemptive works in my life.

As I've reflected back on Jesus and on my own life, I've remembered my heavy metal days. When I began to follow Jesus, I made a switch (a clean break) from absorbing a worldview from metal lyrics over to the scene of Christian Heavy Metal. Yea, Stryper, Bloodgood, Barren Cross, and so many others. I'd be standing right up front at the stage -- fingerless leather gloves, ripped jeans, banging my head and waving my fist. Hey, it was the Eighties. Don't knock it!

I'm so thankful for those days because a burning emotion within me got turned from simmering rage into a focused passion for matters of faith, and that passion was centered on Jesus. With screeching guitars and pounding drums, communicating to teens full of anger and confusion, church differences and right rituals was seldom the emphasis. Ballads and passionate shouts pointed to the King. I wouldn't have come to live my faith without individuals who wouldn't be caught dead in these concerts showing me kindness and unconditional love and teaching me the way of the cross. However, so much of the church has sold out (yes, I said "sold out!") to a picture of a tame Jesus and therefore a tame Gospel.

We have suburbanized Jesus. He was dangerous to the ruling religious establishment. He directly confronted them. He made a public demonstration in the temple courts that could be called a one-man riot. He rose up from among the working poor. He made defiant -- though completely holy -- declarations from a Roman cross. He is a King of justice, a Warrior of love, a Fighter for freedom, a Prophet of compassion, a Poet of peace. He came to declare a revolution, not yet another controlled religious sect. But we've suburbanized Jesus. We've made Him too tame, too nice. We've made Him too democratic.

One of the gifts that the urban church can give back to church is an image of Jesus that is untamed and uncontrollable and a Gospel that is powerful. What has really disturbed me about evangelism in the city is that urban people often think of the Gospel as too weak. I think that's our fault. I think this is so because we have largely lost how to communicate the revolutionary vision of Jesus and His Good News. Jesus raises the stakes on everything, and He gives the powerless back their power and their dignity by showing them the way of the cross. The way of the cross is the way to power, but it is a different kind of power. It is not only subservisive in nature, but it is completely counter-cultual and counter-intuitive in almost every way. There is a desperate need for urban evangelists to re-discover and articulate the Gospel in such a way that communicates its power in the context of a world that is violent, oppressive, corrupt, and unjust.

I'm thankful for my Christian heavy metal days. There was something unleashed within me that still lives though many more respectable influences have tried to tame it recent years. I'm also thankful for simple/organic forms of church. Because of their minimum amount of administrative maintenance required, I can have space to realign my focus once again to Jesus. I hope that the world can know through our counter-cultural, loving, peace-making ways that Jesus is alive and is crushing darkness. I hope that we can get to know Him once again in such a way that people are bewildered by us. It's not that Jesus hasn't been at work. I wouldn't be on this journey of discovery if it wasn't for so many saints that have come before me and have come into my life over the years and decades beginning with my own family.

However, the danger of sitting still and being satisfied with where we have come from is that Jesus may say "Come, follow me" and we simply miss it.

Confession of an Organic Church Planter

I must confess something. This organic, relational, simple church stuff really goes against my nature. I mean, I love people. I like the casual atmosphere and all. But here's the thing. I am a man that is known by my friends as being really driven. I am not afraid of working hard for Christ's mission. I have an agenda. I believe it's a good one, but nonetheless, I cannot seperate myself from my agenda to see communities formed, disciples made, workers raised up. I'm very intentional about it, and so I am often inclined to push hard in order to see these thinigs realized.

And so here I find myself. I hang with people in parks and we talk about spiritual things while sitting on a blanket under a tree. There's no plan. Some of the others are over playing ball but they're having good conversations about God and faith in Christ as well. I find myself learning to relax and let the Spirit do the work and simply be a vessel. At times, it's difficult. I still think that it is right and good to be intentional at forming community and becoming centered on the Gospel, but I'm learning to embody good news rather than work hard at making sure we do all the right religous acts. It's good praxis. I believe it reflects the attitude of Jesus.

But as a purpose-driven, results-minded, missional leader, this just rubs against my nature. What do they say?..... What doesn't kill you will make you stronger. I suppose so. I certainly hope that it will be said of me that I was obedient to Jesus (and that be a true statement of course) and that through that obedience I was transformed to look much more like HIM. I hope so.

But in the meantime I'm learning to work against my own flesh -- even when my flesh seems to be aligned with good motives and a pure agenda. I don't know if all this makes sense, but all you highly driven, seminary trained, church planter types out there will probably get me. At least I hope that I'm not alone.

Measuring Church "Success?"

I'm not satisfied! Let me explain. I've read church growth books, taken graduate classes in the same subject, attended seminars, and have reviewed probably hundreds of statistics on growth and decline within the church both in the U.S. and worldwide. One of the common threads that runs throughout the literature and the lectures seems to be asking the question: How do we measure the "success" or "failure" of our efforts as church planters and missional church leaders? In light of the concept of stewardship, it's not at all a bad question. We should ask if what we are doing is making a difference. However, how we typically measure "success" leaves me feeling completely unsatisfied.

The main way we've measured success is by counting the number of people involved in local church, organizations, or denominations. I'm not scared of counting numbers of people. I have no negative life experiences that makes me afraid of adding up numbers of souls. Besides, I do indeed want more and more people to know Jesus. And do I want to see Bronx Fellowship increase in the number of participants? Yea, I do. But as a measurement, counting heads increasingly misses the mark. For example, numbers may just represent people that are shifting from a few dying churches to one new, more hip church rather than genuine Kingdom growth. In addition, someone showing up "at church" doesn't necessarily mean they are living a cross-shaped life. It just means that they are there and perhaps have fulfilled some basic doctrinal or organizational requirements.

Recently, there has been greater emphasis among mega churches, cell-based churches, and seeker-sensitive churches to request greater levels of commitment and institutional loyalty. Members must round 2nd & 3rd base (metaphors for training classes) or perhaps procede through _____ church classes 101, 102, & 103. Leaders should be able to quote the mission statement, be punctual to meetings, answer e-mails, and jump through all the hoops that say "I'm a committed member of this church." Now, I suppose this might be getting closer to a solid system of measurement because it's focusing more on specific behaviors than on simply showing up. However, it still seems to leave me unsettled in my spirit.

While I would certainly hope that our participants in Bronx Fellowship are committed to their faith community and to the network as well as grow more responsible as individuals, I'm not sure that generating greater institutional loyalty is an adequate measure of our church planting efforts either. It still seems to miss the mark. Being committed to a faith community may often be an expected result of faith in Christ, but I wonder if its a very good litmus test for measuring "success" overall. And while I am excited about others becoming committed to participation with our church network, that still isn't the ulitmate goal set before us.

If we desire to measure "success," there still must be something more. It seems that there are deeper, more fulfilling questions that may help us determine if what we are doing might have value. Such as: Are we beginning to resemble Jesus? Does our Christlikeness make a difference in the lives of one another and others with whom we have contact? Can we, as a group, be identified with the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5) or the Beattitudes (Mt. 5)? Does the world know that we are Christ's followers by how we love one another (John 13)? To me, the measurement question that we regularly need to ask ourselves is: Are we, as a community, becoming more and more like Jesus?

It's ironic and sad to say that it seems that this would be a significant shift away from (church) business as usual. It would require a different set of lenses. And if we are being true to the spirit of the question, it steers us away from self-righteousness influencing the evaluation process. I would think that it might begin with aligning our lives, values, and practices with those of Jesus and then to consistently live into this as a reality. I suppose it might often cause us to realign our priorities. (I'm constantly challenges by the absolute abandon with which Jesus makes decisions about how he orders his life. Taken in context, it's definitely counter-cultural for most high-acheiving Americans.) It seems that every other good thing would take a lessor role to that one central, penetrating question. Is our faith community looking more and more like Jesus?

To me, this is a worthy standard of measurement, but it will never stand complete. It's not supposed to; we are called into relationship. Relationship is ongoing, tranformational, dynamic, and liberating. Furthermore, a negative outcome to this question isn't solved by a better tweaking of the system or an improved marketing campaign as helpful as these might be in other less central areas of the church's life together. Instead, it calls for a good long look in the mirror. Transformation doesn't take place simply by outward change of behavior, but rather it takes hold through an inward working of faith, hope, and love.