Advent, Christmastide, and a High Ecclesiology

On Sunday, December 7^th, I had the privilege of hearing a choir perform their annual Christmas music special at the First Baptist Church of a Mississippi City. The performance was predictable, but well done. There were traditional Christmas hymns intermixed with original songs, all performed wonderfully by the church choir and accompanied by an orchestra of mostly high school students. The songs were separated by narration that re-told the Christmas story and presented a basic plan of salvation to the congregation. Overall it was a solid program.

During the service, though, I had a recurring thought: “but it’s not Christmas…”

Yes, the sanctuary had been artfully decorated with garlands, candles, and other trappings of the Advent season.[1] But the performance of the Christmas music (and especially the accompanying narration) made it seem that Christmas had already come, that the “Silent Night” was passed, and that we should be reminded of the end-result of the Incarnation, that is, Christ’s crucifixion. It was as though the entire event was meant for a late-night Christmas Eve service. It would have been perfect for Christmas Vigil, in fact.

I realize that I am in the extreme minority among my Baptist peers when it comes to observing the Church Year, but my response to the service was more about our cultural relationship to Christmas than it was a desire to implement the Church Year in this local congregation.

I think I’m getting tired of synthesizing Christmas joy. There I sat, on December the seventh, participating in a performance that asked me to pretend that this bright, warm morning was Christmas Eve/Day. I was having to fake it. I do not mean this pejoratively; I simply mean that I was aware of the dissonance between the performance and the actual celebration of Christmas.

I need Advent. I need a time to reflect on my own need for the Incarnation. After all, since the last time the Church concentrated on the concept of “Emmanuel” I’ve certainly learned something new, forgotten something true, and sinned a great deal. I need Advent. But even if I emphasize the Hanging of the Greens, the Advent weeks, the candles, the readings and the rest, I’m bombarded by the earlier-than-ever Christmas shopping season, the radio station that my neighbor plays all day with its Christmas music, and Christmas parties for school and church.

Here’s a reality that I’m struggling with: we’ve allowed our work, school, and family schedules to divorce Christmas from the church, even in the church. Why do we have the annual Christmas performances of our choirs on December the 7^th? Because our schedules and priorities have made the church give up one of its most important days. We would never be able to host a Christmas choral performance on Christmas Day. We couldn’t sync up the words we’re singing with the actual observation of Christ’s birth because, well, we’d rather be with family than at church. In truth, I’d rather be at home in my Christmas pajamas watching my daughter open presents than singing at church in a rented tux. That’s why I’m struggling with it: I’m tired of the dissonance but I don’t want to change.

I wrote several months ago[2] about the importance of Eastertide as a balance to Lent. I think that a similar argument could be made for the intentional delay of celebrating Christmas until after Advent. I realize that such a delay is impractical given the sheer momentum of our cultural observance of the Christmas season. However, it may be the solution to my feelings of synthesizing joy. I’d really just like to wait until Christmas to open my presents.

This is all wrapped up in what is becoming my personal theological project: a high ecclesiology for Baptists. I want to place a higher value on the believer’s participation in the congregation. I want the believers to make the choice to resist the cultural forces that divorce Christmas from the Incarnation, and thus the “season of giving” from the congregational celebration of God’s Gift to humanity. I’ve found some success in introducing Advent into my local congregations, but there is still the parallel “Christmas Season” that takes energy away from the heart’s contemplation of our need for and God’s provision of a Savior.

I want the church to matter more to Baptists, and I want it to matter in such a way that one day, against even my own preferences, we could sing “Joy to the World” on the same day that we set aside to remember Christ’s birth.

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[1] The church itself does not observe the Church Year, but it certainly participates in the traditional de-facto liturgical calendar of the SBC.

[2] http://revbrock.blogspot.com/2014/04/on-eastertide.html

Mars Hill, Church Leadership, and the Pastoral Office

Recent news of the “melt down” of Mars Hill Church in the Pacific Northwest has generated much commentary on the character of Mark Driscoll (see here, here, and here), the fate of Mars Hill Church, and the nature of multi-site megachurches. I live in a city with a very large church that is built upon a similar model, and I’m interested to understand the relationships between Mars Hill and Pinelake here in Jackson.

My generation of church leaders has found great success in the establishment and growth of multi-site churches. The Leadership Network has documented more than 5,000 multi-site churches in North America. Many of these congregations broadcast a sermon by a central preacher to the satellite campuses; at least one that I know of uses an internet-based metronome to control the tempo and timing of the worship music to best coordinate the live broadcast of that sermon.

The collapse of the Mars Hill network is, in a way, sad. I have at least one dear friend who has lost his ministerial position and will certainly be in a state of uncertainty and trouble because of the breakup of Mars Hill. I am sad for Driscoll and for his family, and for the thousands that will go through a period of mourning and transition as they (hopefully) look for a new church home. We should never celebrate the collapse of a ministry that was proclaiming salvation through Christ (Luke 9:49-50).

The breakup of the Mars Hill model reveals something else that I’m interested in: the relationship between the sustainability of a congregation or network of congregations and a single minister. There can be little doubt that Mars Hill Church’s decline has been directly related to Driscoll’s departure: attendance, giving, and momentum have all significantly declined since his announced leave of absence in August. Mars Hill, as it had existed, was unsustainable without the singular personality of Driscoll. It was the preacher’s personality, delivery, and activity that kept the organization not only thriving, but also alive. Once that personality was removed, the Network had no hope of staying together.

This (relatively) new model of ministry is the consequence of our departure from denominationalism. I can only competently speak of the Southern Baptist Convention and its offshoot organizations (BGCT, CBF, etc.), but I suspect that the situation in the PCA/PCUSA divide, the Anglican Communion, and the Lutheran organizations are similar. The Southern Baptist Convention is even now deciding how to fund that denomination’s Cooperative Program in the face of mega-churches being able to count their own missions work as CP giving.

As denominations crack and splinter over (important) social issues and react to new bureaucratic and management paradigms, large, multi-site churches are able to address missions and ministry directly. These congregations, though, are often built on the personality and preaching of one single minister. As these congregations invest in missions, buildings, and ministries of increasing scale and complexity, they increasingly risk catastrophic collapse if their lead pastor departs.

My primary concern is the congregational model of church leadership. The saga of Mars Hill’s collapse reads (at least in hindsight) as a story of the consolidation of power into a smaller and smaller group. Even though the staff and membership of the Network was growing numerically, authority over institutional decisions was placed into the hands of a shrinking group of Driscoll’s supporters. Congregational authority was diminished in two ways: the scale of the Network rendered the distance between a believer and institutional power too great to be meaningful to the member and the sheer quantity of worshippers reduced that authority so much that a single believer had little to do with the leadership of the church. Secondly, with Driscoll managing the entire network in a hardline authoritarian way, the congregation was effectively left out of ownership of the congregation, thus relegating them to some sort of “consumer” status.

If a church is to be congregationally led, that is, if the autonomy of the local church is to have any meaning in the 21^st century, then believers must be given and must take responsibility for the institution itself. The pastors are certainly responsible for the spiritual care and leadership of the people, but power to make institutional decisions must not reside in the Senior Pastor or even in the Pastoral Staff. The congregation, whether through a committee structure or through a strong emphasis on lay leadership, must be cultivated to engage the work of being the church so that, regardless of pastoral leadership, the church may thrive.

In this way the congregation reflects what Baptists have believed for generations about the Priesthood of the Believer and the Autonomy of the Local Congregation. Our churches should not break apart when a pastor leaves; there should be such a strong sense of the congregation as the Body of Christ that, ministry, mission, and work exist independently and sustainably in partnership with preaching and pastoral leadership.

I worry about Pinelake and other multi-site mega-churches. When the charismatic pastor/preacher departs, who will fill the void?

I'm Not in High School Anymore

I have some friends from high school who are precious and dear to me, and we speak often. One is a lawyer in Louisiana, one a nuclear engineer, one a manufacturing manager, and another a minister in Driscoll’s Mars Hill network. Three of these four also served in the U.S. Navy. I could not be more proud of these men and who they have become.

When we were in high school we didn’t fit in. I’m not saying that we were members of a group that could have been labeled “the outcasts;” I’m saying that we crossed so many social categories and boundaries that we were un-categorize-able. We were all strong academic performers, but we also played on many of the school’s athletic teams. We were deeply involved in the NJROTC program, but we made time for other activities like SGA, mentoring, and Quiz Bowl, and church life. We were weird in that we couldn’t be pigeonholed into what have become the standard categories for high school society (i.e. the nerds, the jocks, the freaks, the goths/emos, etc.).

Thanks be to God that we weren’t categorized as any of those things. We were able to see that friends could be made of all types of people, and that we could all work independently of a social group to succeed in school and society. We avoided, for the most part, what could be called the “usual high school drama.”

High school ended, and we went our separate ways. The men my friends have become, I think, have reflected their ability to not be pigeonholed; they have adapted, transitioned, and thrived in just about every way. (Can you tell I’m proud of them?)

I’m so thankful for the experiences that I had in high school, but I’m also thankful for my time at Mississippi College and at Baylor University. The point is that my friends and I have all grown up and left behind the would-be drama of high school to embrace the fullness of life. Since we largely avoided that drama to begin with, the growing up was perhaps less shocking and painful than it could have been.

Now consider a recent post[1] by Lutheran pastor the Rev. Erik Parker in which he likens Evangelicalism to a high school. He calls Driscoll, Piper, and Eldridge the “football team” because “the crowds love them, but most cannot see that they are also the bullies.” Myer and Osteen are the “rich kids,” and Rachel Held Evans is the valedictorian. In Parker’s metaphor the Mainline denominations are the “parents” and “teachers” who “brought them into the world.”

Parker’s central point is that Evangelicalism “needs” the Mainline denominations for their experience and wisdom. The Mainline needs Evangelicalism for its “drama to remind us how important this faith business” is.

Likening the Evangelical milieu to high school, especially when the Mainline is cast as the teachers and parents, is disingenuous and anachronistic. To do so is to portray the Evangelical movement as young, immature, and under the tutelage of the Mainline “adults” who try to mold the students into their own image. Evangelicals are not in the midst of some maturation process that will eventually graduate them to Mainline status; the Evangelical movement is not the Mainline precisely because it cannot become the Mainline.

The Rev. Parker wants to argue that the Evangelicals need the Mainline and vice-versa, but calling those same Evangelicals the students while his own tradition is the great teacher and parent causes “Evangelical” to lose its historical meaning completely.[2] His metaphor assumes that if Evangelicals would just grow up a little bit they would see their “drama” for what it is and merge with the other sober-minded Mainline Christians in our culture.

Further, Rev. Parker misses the irony that one cannot so easily stereotype Evangelicals into his or any other category. There are not “bullies” or “nerds” or “valedictorians” in the Evangelical camp; these believers flow into and out of and among any categories. The Mainline thinks in categories because it has, in many cases, an ordered hierarchy to clearly define those categories. Baptists, at least, have no such hierarchy and therefore are incapable of categorization. If a specific preacher, author, or believer acts in a way that resembles the jock, the nerd, or the freak, then so be it. Trying to cast the entire Evangelical movement as the children in a school with its drama, though, just doesn’t work.

One final note: the Evangelicals don’t need the Mainline in the way that Rev. Parker thinks. The Evangelical movement has been doing its own thing for enough generations now to understand that wisdom and calmness can be euphemisms for apathy and hollow spirituality. Evangelicals are also not blind to the “grey areas of faith,” nor are Evangelicals ignorant of the tensions these grey areas produce. Evangelicals live in these areas every day, just like Mainline believers.

In my own context of teaching high school students and witnessing their drama, I’ve come to understand that “the struggle is real.” More specifically, I’ve learned that the best teacher I can be is the one who invests in the drama, not to chide, criticize, or tell the students to grow up, but because the love of God in Jesus Christ is found in how I respond to that struggle, that drama.

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[1] http://millennialpastor.net/2014/01/06/evangelical-drama-needs-Mainline-experience/

[2] The meaning of “Evangelical” is slippery at best. My dear friend Roger Olson holds out hope for the term, however, in spite of calls by others to abandon the word in favor of something more solid.

Football Fandom Fail

SEC fans worship twice on the weekends: once at the Cathedral on Saturday, and once in Church on Sunday.[1] I grew up in the Baton Rouge area and have experienced this holy season myself - the anticipation, the singing, the offering, and the benediction. Of course, the next day at church I was usually sunburned and hoarse. Some of my friends take their fandom too seriously to the detriment of their careers, families, and sanity. I can name some pastors who do the same, though.[2]

The balance between our sports fandom and our devotion to God has gotten some necessary attention in recent years. Christianity Today made that relationship a cover story in February 2010.[3] Since then other articles in that publication have appeared addressing church attendance as it relates to sports, specifically youth sports.[4] Other Christian publications have also published thoughtful, questioning pieces on our relationship with sports as believers.[5]

The Church in America has responded to our cultural love of sports in predictable ways. Some have done nothing, forcing parishioners to make binary choices between being “faithful” in their attendance on Sunday mornings and taking their kids to practice. Some have changed their entire weekly schedule, incorporating Saturday or Thursday evening worship services to accommodate the commitments of their congregations.

I am personally conflicted when it comes to this topic. I’m a college football and basketball fan. I don’t have children old enough to participate in sports on Sunday, and because I’m a preacher’s kid I generally missed the NFL and other Sunday sports growing up because I was at church all day. I understand the pastor’s frustration of losing attendees to sports practice, but I also am not as committed to attendance as a marker of righteousness.

One pastor has gone too far.[6] Deadspin.com has reported on an Evangelical Lutheran pastor who conducted a one-minute Sunday service because he wanted to see the kickoff of the 49ers playoff game.[7] (PLEASE go watch the entire one-minute service HERE) This priest even sported a 49ers t-shirt under his cassock which he revealed Superman-style at the conclusion of his “service.”

I hope that somewhere in the ELCA hierarchy this video causes a fuss. In my own Baptist context, though, where there is no true denominational oversight, such antics would probably go un-chastised so long as the congregation was onboard.[8]

I’m a fan of several sports teams, but to me this is unconscionable. To abandon a service because of a football game is ludicrous, especially in the age of the DVR. This pastor decided that his desires as a fan outweighed the needs of his congregation. They don’t need a perfunctory “ok, that’s great, you are” in the face of their sins being forgiven. They probably don’t “know enough about” the wine and servant hood themes of the New Testament. They certainly do not need a self-service buffet that makes a mockery of the Table. They should have gotten more than the afterthought blessing and a hasty exit.

As pastors we must understand that we are not just fans, just like we are not just members of the congregation. Even in Baptist churches where every member is a priest of the Church, the pastor must conduct his or her life with intentionality and awareness. Skipping out on one of the most visible signs of the congregation’s life to see a football kickoff demonstrates a pitiful understanding of the office of pastor and, more importantly, an unwillingness to sacrifice personal desires on the alter of God’s calling.

Let this be a negative example to us. Be a fan, cheer loudly, support your team. But in the name of Christ do your job. Fulfill your calling. Serve the people. Do not abandon them or their needs in worship and service because your team is in the playoffs. God’s calling is worth more than that, and demands our best.

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[1] I think Scott Van Pelt of ESPN said this first, but I cannot find a source to attribute it to him.

[2] These pastors represent the opposite of the argument of article. They are the ones who give up their family relationships and very identities in service to their congregation.

[3] Shirl James Hoffman, “Sports Fanatics: How Christians have succumbed to the sports culture - and what might be done about it” Christianity Today 54 (2010): 20-28.

[4] Ruth Moon, “Game Changer: Pastors Blame Kids’ Sports for Attendance Dips” Christianity Today 57 (2013): 15; Megan Hill, “The Sunday Sports Dilemma” http://www.christianitytoday.com/women/2013/june/sunday-sports-dilemma-church-practice.html; Mark Householder, Benjamin J. Chase, and Ted Kluck, “Are Sports the Problem? Three Views” Christianity Today 54 (2010): 26-27.

[5] Benjamin J. Dueholm, “Unnecessary Roughness: the moral hazards of football” Christian Century 129 (2012): 22-25; John White, “The enduring problem of dualism: Christianity and sports” Implicit Religion 15 (2012): 225-241; Fabrice Delsahut, “Jeux sportifs et religion amerindienne” Studies in Religion 42 (2013): 3-22; Rush Otey, “Christian faith and sports” Journal for Preachers 32 (2009): 32-48.

[6] I’m sure that there are many, many pastors that take their fandom too far; this one just sent me over the edge today.

[7] http://deadspin.com/pastor-gives-worlds-shortest-sermon-to-make-49ers-kic-1500227690

[8] Interestingly enough, the congregation in the video seems to be as excited about the short service as the priest.