Missional Church

by Evan

The reflection offered in the bulletin at my church this morning was a fantastic articulation of one of the primary issues facing the church today. Thought I'd share it with you all!

Most traditional evangelical churches still can only win people to Christ who are temperamentally traditional and conservative. But, this is a 'shrinking market.' And eventually evangelical churches ensconced in the declining, remaining enclaves of "Christendom" will have to learn how to become 'missional.' If it does not do that it will decline or die. We don't simply need evangelistic churches, but rather 'missional' churches. - Tim Keller 

I've long felt this tension in the congregations I've visited or participated in. We feel comfortable with one sort of people, so it's easier for us to imagine Jesus as a part of their lives. Thus, the people we build relationships with and eventually invite to follow Christ are the people who look and act just like us. It's resulted in an American evangelicalism that, at times, looks weirdly homogeneous.

Problem is, as Keller puts it, there are only so many 'people like us' around. The question it begs, in the prophetic phrasing of one of my students, is, "Are we just going for the low-hanging fruit?"

Good question. Are we?

Do we love our Jesus? Do we believe he's good? Do we love our neighbors? How about our enemies? Are we lazy in our evangelicalism, or do we choose to live with a mission to a world that's hurting, and getting worse every day? Let us cling to what some might call a 'foolish optimism,' a visionary prayer life, and an imaginative missionalism as we go forth with love as Jesus' ambassadors to the world.

Jesus Brings the Party

by Evan

My wedding was
considerably shorter

Here's a story I read with some of my new friends on campus tonight (from John 2):

A long time ago, there was a wedding. Back then, weddings lasted for days, and there was no guest list – the whole city would show up, along with friends and family from out of town. This particular happy couple had invited their widowed friend and her adult children to come from their home in the next town over.

Near the end of the third day of celebration, though, disaster struck. 

The women’s area was near the wine cellars, so the women noticed the commotion when the wait-staff realized there was no wine left. Perhaps the expected delivery was late, or perhaps the family had failed to accurately judge how much the revelers would drink. Either way, it wouldn't be long before the newly married couple would be exposed to public disgrace. The festivities  had been planned for months, ending earlier than expected would be profoundly insulting.

The widow from the next town over, though, had a thought. She called one of her sons over, and explained the situation. The terrified servers, procrastinating telling the Chief Sommelier about this inexcusable lack of wine, overheard snippets of the terse back-and-forth between the man and his mother. 

The woman, with a twinkle in her eye, turned from her son toward them, saying, “You guys, do whatever he (nodding at her son) tells you to do.” 

The servers maybe thought this random guy knew about a hidden cache of wine. Maybe they thought he had a connection with a vineyard and could get wine quickly. They certainly didn’t expect the directions he gave them. 

“See those stone tanks over there? The ones used for filling the ritual cleansing pool? Fill them with water, and we’ll go from there.”

The servers are faced with a choice: Do they follow the instructions of a total stranger, whose only recommendation comes from his mom (another stranger)? Or do they throw themselves into the tedious and strenuous work of lugging 180 gallons of water up from the well, bucket by bucket? What will they choose?

Well, the "correct" answer is easy if you come from a churched background. We know the stranger is Jesus. We know he is the son of God, and that he always has a plan. We're conditioned to see dilemmas like this as no-brainers. When a random stranger asks you to do something strenuous and, apparently, pointless, you don't do it. But when Jesus asks you to do it, you don't ask questions. Right?

However, the servers never went to Sunday school. They'd never heard a sermon on dropping everything to follow Jesus, and the author of Hebrews hadn't yet written the exhortation to faith as "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen." All they knew was that this party was in jeopardy and, more importantly, the reputation of a family hung in the balance. And this Jesus, otherwise unremarkable in appearance and presentation, had them filling colossal jugs with water. What could that possibly accomplish? As anyone who's been to a truly great wedding reception can tell you, water is no substitute for wine. Let's return to the story...

We can only guess why, but the servers comply with the stranger's direction. They begin the slow, tedious task of lugging water from the well to fill up the stone tanks. And even more surprisingly, they really throw themselves into it. They don't stop until the tanks are filled to the tippy-top. 

Then the stranger gives them a far less strenuous (but terrifically more nerve-wracking) task: "Go to the tanks you just filled with water. Draw some out, and take it to the Sommelier."

Is Jesus off his rocker? Is he trying to get these guys fired? I have no idea why they comply with this request, but I'm glad that they do... What comes next is a miraculous event (which hardly anyone notices).

The servers take the cup to the Chief Sommelier, and give it to him to sample. As he sips, swishes, and swallows, his eyes light up. "This," he tells them, "is the good stuff!" (Can you picture the servers' eyes bugging out in surprise?) He calls the groom aside and, almost playfully, ribs him for holding onto the good wine until now. "Most people serve the great wine first, while everyone's still able to savor it, and serve the cheap stuff after the guests are buzzed. You, on the other hand, saved the top-shelf stuff till now. Sneaky!"

Let Jesus be the sommelierat your next party or function.

Of course the groom has no clue what the Sommelier is talking about (and probably doesn't care) - after all, he just got married! He's not thinking about which wine is served when, so he just rolls with it.  The bride and groom enjoy their celebration uninterrupted. The party continues for another few days, propelled by the massive tanks filled with top-notch wine (the equivalent of over 900 bottles-worth). The city of Cana remains utterly unaware of the nail-biting, behind-the-scenes drama that unfolded that third evening.

Only the servers, the stranger and his traveling buddies, and the stranger's mom know how close their friends, the newlyweds, came to disaster during the happiest week of their life.

Thus, the scriptures tell us, was revealed the glory of Jesus. At a wedding in need. With a miracle that went completely unnoticed (except to those who responded with obedience to Jesus' direction). What does this tell us about him?

I could tell you what we came up with as a small group... but that takes all the fun out of it ;). What strikes you about this story? How do you read it? Post a comment as you reflect, I'd love to hear what you think!

Hanging on the Lawn, Munching the Words of Jesus

Last night at 8:00pm, we hosted our first Large Group meeting of the semester. However, in all honesty, last night at 7:30pm  I suspected it was going to be an epic failure - oh me of little faith! Here was my reasoning:

• Strike One - Our room reservation, which we'd so diligently submitted over the summer, was denied for that night, and that night only, leaving us with no room to meet in.
• Strike Two - We'd already distributed hundreds of fliers and hung up dozens of posters inviting people to join us the afore-mentioned room.
• Strike Three - I discovered that our meeting was scheduled for the very same time-slot as the nationally renowned, often-televised comedian performing in the next building over.

So there I was, half an hour before our very first public event of the year, with no location, no plan, and no clue.

How did God turn it around, you may ask?

Several days ago, I was reading a sermon by A.W. Tozer, in which he discussed St. Matthew's account of the feeding of the 5,000. The situation was such that thousands of people were surrounding Jesus and his disciples, it was dinner time, and the people were hungry. With only a few fish and a few bits of bread, there was no way that Jesus and his friends could feed the crowd. And yet, Jesus commanded the people to sit down on "the green grass," and his disciples to distribute the meager rations to them.

Tozer reflects that part of our calling as the church is to provide "green grass" kinds of places, where people can sit and be fed by Jesus. In fact, there's very little else we can provide - all we have are a few fish, a few bits of bread, and our Jesus.

As I was sitting dejected in front of the Student Union last night, God brought Tozer's reflection to mind - we had so little to offer that night. All the plans we'd made were falling through, but sometimes Jesus doesn't need our carefully orchestrated plans in order to sit some people down and feed them. All we needed to do was find a patch of grass for them to sit on... Jesus would handle the rest.

And so 8:00 found us hanging out on the lawn by the Student Union building, literally sitting on "the green grass," while I simply shared our community's vision for our campus. They sat, freshmen and seniors; transfer students and commuters; engineers and artists; believers and skeptics; the needy, the pharisaic, and the enthusiastic.

It wasn't the plan we'd envisioned for our "Introduction to InterVarsity Extravaganza," but God used the circumstances to bring about an evening that won't soon be forgotten, and an invitation to rely on and partner with him as he calls his far-flung children at York to come home to him.

Hallelujah!

Putting the 'Fun' Back In 'Fund-Raising'

Originally Published April 10, 2010

List of observations and questions
 from our study of Philippians

They say that you learn things more deeply by teaching others. Today I led a 5 hour crash-course in fund-raising to a group of 8 college students who are preparing for Sidewalks, a 6-week, incarnational mission project in inner-city Lancaster. I don’t know that I learned anything new, per se, but I was absolutely blessed with two important reaffirmations. 

1. Fund-raising isn’t a ‘necessary evil’:
In my line of work, I meet a lot of people who, when they hear I raise my salary, say things like, “Wow, that must be so hard,” or “Ouch,” or “I’m glad I don’t have to do that!”  Raising support has gotten a really bad rap! But today, I led my students in a study of chapter 4 of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, which is, in a sense, a thank-you note from a missionary to his supporters.

We discovered something cool...

"I rejoice in the Lord greatly that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned for me, but had no opportunity to show it.” Now, Paul’s an old man by now, many of his friends have abandoned him over the years, many of the churches he’s founded have imploded, and to top it all off, he’s in prison! Not only has he not been embittered by the hardships he’s endured, but he even considers this latest setback to be an opportunity for deeper partnership!

This has vast implications for how we view the need for fund-raising. Our current need of support is not a necessary evil, but an opportunity for others to invest themselves in our success and work! It’s a special occasion, a chance not to be missed for our friends to extend grace, love, and partnership! What a far cry that is from what we typically think of when we hear the dreaded words “fund-raising.” Which brings us to the next point… 

2. Fund-raising is about building partnerships:
 Perhaps this should be more obvious than it is, but the sad truth is that when we ask or are asked for money, we tend to expect the worst kind of awkwardness. Partners, however, don’t get all weird when they discuss a joint venture.

From what we could tell of Paul’s relationship with his friends at Philippi, it was frank, respectful, warm, and mutually beneficial. He seemed to think that what was good for him and his ministry was also good for his supporters, because they were more than just an ATM to him. They were his partners, friends, and family in the critical mission he was on.

It’s easy to take a utilitarian, need-oriented view of raising support. I’ve been guilty of it at times, and I’d bet I’m not alone. But Paul sets a tone for us to strive toward – when our relationship with donors is respectful, honest, grateful, and warm, there can exist an evolving mutuality, a natural sharing of joys and trials, a friendship that can span decades and distance. When I see Paul’s example, I wonder how I could ever have settled for anything less.

I’m excited. I’m excited to work more closely with my student-friends, and to celebrate with them in their fund-raising joys and to grieve with them in their fund-raising frustrations. I’m excited to return to a joyful, happy fund-raising place for my own support “needs.” Or, as Paul would describe them, “opportunities.”

Musings on Jesus, the Campus, and Ministry Among Postmoderns

Originally Published March 19, 2010

I just read “Finding Jesus at College,” an article by Edward Dutton in a recent issue of the Chronicle of Higher Education.  In it, Dutton claims that “students are most likely to meet Jesus – and stick with him – at the world’s most elite universities” whereas students who attend private Christian colleges “leave, in many cases, far less ardent in their faith.” This is a controversial and though-provoking assertion, to be sure, so I thought I’d jot out a few thoughts about Jesus, the campus, and our approach to ministry to youth and postmoderns in general.

One of the first points in the article had to do with “moments of distress,” which in my experience provide one of the two most critical pieces of faith formation on campus (the other being faithful input to help navigate that crisis). Dutton is spot on in his premise that the challenges to faith that a collegian may encounter will be absolutely critical to the long-term growth and development of their relationship with Jesus.
In his book If Jesus Were a Sophomore, Bruce Main writes,

Unfortunately, in our contemporary Christian culture, we have been seduced to believe that Christian faith is about avoiding crisis… From birth we are raised to think that the sole objective in life is to… live a life that has a minimum of crises. Life is to be lived as safely and securely as possible. Unfortunately, walks down safe and easy roads do not create opportunities to grow as human beings and grow in our faith. I like Erik Erikson’s definition of crisis when he claims,

... In clinical work (as in economics and politics) crisis has increasingly taken on half of its meaning, the catastrophic half, while in medicine, a crisis once meant a turning point for better or for worse, a crucial period in which a decisive turn one way or another is unavoidable. Such crises occur in man’s total development sometimes more noisily, as it were, when new instinctual needs meet abrupt prohibitions, sometimes more quietly when new capacities yearn to match new opportunities, and when new aspirations make it more obvious how limited one (as yet) is. We would have to talk of all these and more if we wanted to gain an impression of the difficult function – or functional unity.

The advice given to college-bound youth by well-meaning parents and pastors is often centered around finding a “safe” place in which to continue the Christian walk by avoiding crisis (what Dutton terms a “fortress of identity). I’ve seen so many students from vibrant, loving, doctrinally sound home churches arrive at college scared to death of losing their faith due to contact with unholy stuff like the proverbial sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. Many college-aged church groups share an assumption of the value of bringing students out of their natural campus habitat and into the church, where they can be “preserved” against the influences of their atheistic professors and the debauchery of frat keggers.

These well-meaning ministries can set up a false and ultimately destructive dichotomy – church is home while the campus is a dangerous place to be.

However, the unchallenged, insulated Christian life will inevitably stagnate and wither, which is partly why the great efforts of the church to be “relevant” to young people tend to fail so miserably. It is often a therapeutic effort, attempting to relieve the stress of living in a predominantly unchristian culture and reinforce a sense of Christian identity while side-stepping the difficult questions of honoring Jesus in a complex world.

However, when a believer is encouraged to live in true friendship and community with both non-Christians and Christians alike, he must constantly articulate and re-articulate his faith with increasing clarity and conviction. Active and consistent dialogue with those who believe differently raises questions that, left to our own inclinations, we might never consider; if our God is the great God we believe Him to be, we need not shrink from tough questions, whether they come from our nominally Christian roommate, our “burned-by-the-church” relative, or our militantly atheistic Intro to Philosophy professor. It is significant that Jesus’ prayer for his followers was not that the Father would remove them from the world – rather, that He would strengthen them to carry forth the mission.

Unfortunately, this youth ministry strategy of mitigating contact with the corrupt world (or campus) shows up all over the place in the church, on Christian campuses, and campus ministries at secular institutions. There are plenty of exceptions (thank God!), but it does remain a prevalent orientation for many of us who work with this generation. I wonder if this is because, faced with horrifying statistics on the rate of young people leaving the fold (Barna says that less than 1% of American youth will retain a biblical worldview), we’ve adopted a defensive stance (us vs. them), rather than one that presses with humility, dialogue, and prayer into the opportunity for life-long conversion that the university context can provide.

The campus presents a unique context for growth, not just intellectually, but also spiritually. If we could shed the persistent idea that impressionable young minds ought to be protected from the sinful world of campus, and ensure that there is someone there to help them process the hard questions, we might be surprised at the scale of revival that could sweep the academy and the world in the coming decades. As Charles Malik wrote in The Two Tasks, “The university is arguably the single most significant institution in the Western Civilization. Change the university and you change the world.”

With students experiencing unprecedented freedom to reinvent themselves during their four years, the power of a prophetic call to a life of significance, service, and radical follower-ship of Jesus cannot be overvalued.

That said, we are far from being able to reach the vast majority of students or campuses with the gospel of Jesus. My own ministry, InterVarsity, which has staff on more than twice as many campuses as any other campus ministry, reaches only about 100,000 students annually. I say "only" because it’s just a drop in the bucket of America's 18 million undergraduates.

This requires of the church an unflinching commitment to impact the campus and a radical reexamination of the underlying principles that shape how we do ministry with this generation – if, that is, our aspiration is not just to retain the membership of our youth, but to induce the church to grow in the 21^st century.

Switching Blogs

So, I'm switching from my old blog (http://intervarsityycp.wordpress.com/) to this one. Hence, some of the posts are going to be mis-dated - Sorry! I'll post the original date for the posts I'm migrating to this blog. Thanks for understanding!