The Chapel at Akron: Where it all Began

Without question, we can all look back at our walks with God and point not only to moments in time, but also to geographic locations that stand out as pivotal points therein. The Chapel at Akron is significant to my family, serving as the place my father-in-law began his walk with God many years ago. Since that time, Paul and his wife, Barbara, as well as their two children, Hannah Serafino, and Joe, have re-visited this church numerous times to remember and refresh the beginning of what's proven to be a lifelong faith journey. For that reason, I decided to end this exploration with a visit to The Chapel and I write this post not only as a final glimpse of my experience with the local church, but in honor of a godly man whose walk with God has had a direct and incalculable impact on my life. Thank you, Paul. You're a good man, no matter what they say!

The Chapel at Akron surprised me. First of all, pastoral transitions are awkward for everyone; regular attenders feel it, staff live it, visitors sense it. The tension from a pastoral search and the inevitable drama that accompanies it can be tricky. The staff that drove the 10:40a.m. service at The Chapel this past Sunday, though, weathered the service flawlessly, calling out the awkwardness of the uncertainty by requesting feedback in a brief survey, and moving on with the things that matter, like worshiping God.

There was a strange juxtaposition of emotions upon entering and seating myself, by myself. Looking around, I noticed the variety of dress, style, ages, and demographics all around me, clear up to the 'nosebleeds' of the balcony. Yet it seemed so familial, like everyone still knew mostly everyone. I never once felt like a face lost in translation, but knew I was a part of the body of believers at The Chapel, if only for one week. To put it another way, I suppose I knew I'd come to church, which is more than I can say for the other megachurches I've attended lately.

Worship was beautiful. Drew Belden led us into the throne room of God with several songs that were easy to learn, well-rehearsed yet not terribly over-produced. Simple choruses, acoustic versions of hymns, gentle vocals and effects all worked together to create an aesthetically-appealing and spiritually-refreshing worship environment.

My surprise was only heightened, then, by the kind of preaching I experienced. As has undoubtedly been made clear by the first several megachurches mentioned in this process, I'm skeptical as to the biblical depth of megachurch messages. But Pastor Jacob Ley walked us through Scripture in a way I've seen many megachurch pastors fail to do. His desire to delve into deep biblical truths was evident to me as he preached about our role in taking up the mantle of Jesus Christ and, by the power of the Holy Spirit, continuing His work here on this earth, as recorded in John 14. When I left, I felt as though I'd been disclosed deeper insight into the will of God. I personally appreciated this depth; it's good to know that a church can grow to monstrous proportions without 'taking down the cross' from the stage (and thus, all-too-often, from the message as well).*

I was proud to finally experience the heritage into which I married, and prouder still to know the church that fostered the beginning of the spiritual walk of my father-in-law is still preaching the Word, loving its community, and changing live without apology or inhibition. 

*A snarky allusion to Rick Warren's Purpose Drive Church, where he suggests removing crosses to appear more accepting or to appeal to a sense of political-correctness. 

Resurrection Sunday; The Sequel

As many of you may know, this past weekend, was Easter Sunday for those within the Orthodox Tradition. This discrepancy in dates goes back to the difference in annual calendars used; Orthodoxy follows Julius Caesar's Julian calendar, from 46 B.C., whereas Catholics and western traditions align with the Gregorian calendar decreed by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582.* For whatever reason, these different calendars caused Easter (Passover, or Pascha) to fall five weeks apart this year. Following the somewhat disappointing Easter celebration (a term I use loosely) on March 31st, we decided to add May 5th to the schedule in hopes of redeeming 'Easter' for the year 2013.

And redeem it we did! Unfortunately, Hannah was sick and unable to join me. But per the invitation of some good friends, I ventured out into the cold Saturday night air to the Pascha service at Holy Assumption Orthodox Church, which began at 11:30p.m. and ended when the festivities for the night died down. 

For the sake of portrayal as accurate a picture as I can of my experience, I must first share with you that I have an eye condition that causes night-blindness; candlelit rooms, though reverent, are less-than-ideal for my having any clue what's going on. My friend Bailey took me by the arm and led me to a pew, where I met Matt, who said he would help me as needed throughout the Pascha service. How fitting, though! I was the perfect object lesson that night, standing there as a literal manifestation of what we were celebrating. The scent of the incense, the tonal worship and choral chanting wafted through the dark hall for more than a half an hour, until midnight. Candles were distributed, and the light past from hand-to-hand.

Once all candles were lit, we were led outside, where we marched in a processional around the church building. Once, twice, three times, with the bell tolling in front of us, and each stopping as they had need, to relight their candle from the night time wind. Following the processional, and short time of prayer outside, we moved back into the sanctuary, where I quite literally passed from blindness to sight, from darkness to light, and the celebration ensued!

Christ is risen! Indeed, He is risen!

Christos anesti! Alithos anesti!

Cristo ha resucitado! En verdad ha resucitado!

Kristo amefufukka! Kweli amefufukka!

The priest circled the room countless times (most likely a multiple of three, if I were to make a guess), sprinkling water on us and blessing us with incense exclaiming in any language he could remember that Christ is risen! And as the members of the congregation crossed themselves and received the blessings, they replied, if the knew the given language, that "Indeed, Christ is risen!" Never before have I been among a group of believers so excited to remember that Christ was indeed alive. Laughter and joy filled that room as, for over an hour, we chanted "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs, bestowing life!"** 

The Divine Liturgy began around 1:30a.m. followed by communion, of which I was unable to partake (presumably because I am not a member of the Orthodox church, right?). Nonetheless, being present in that room during such a celebration is an experience and memory I will not soon forget. The priest ended the service by blessing the dozens of 'Easter baskets' on stage. I soon found out that these baskets were full of all of the foods and drinks from which the members of the church had been fasting for several weeks. And when the service was over, the feast began. Pork, steak, sausage, chili, bacon, cheeses, bread, beer and wine, chocolate, and countless other foods soon filled the tables of the fellowship hall, as we all gathered around to celebrate the resurrection of Christ our Lord. 

The selflessness that pervades the Orthodox tradition (from what I've experienced) is its defining factor. In American churches, we are free, and almost encouraged, to "have it your way." Find the worship and the preacher and the sermon time and the children's ministry that appeals most to you and go to that church. Orthodox Christians gather together at the same times, in the same manner, with the same liturgy and worship that they have for centuries, taking the human variable out of the equation and giving God was is God's, week after week, year after year, and again and again. They take fasting seriously. They gather at all hours of the night to bring in the resurrection of Christ. There is no room for "I don't get anything out of that" in these churches.

With this being one of my final posts in this blog, I would emphasize again the need for a renewed sense of reverence and sanctity within the American church. Orthodoxy recognizes God as God in a way I feel most protestant-evangelical churches fall short. If you're only exposure to the Orthodox church is "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," I urge you to take a Sunday, empty yourself of preference and "getting anything out of" this or that, and go silence yourself in the halls of a great building where the Spirit of God moves like wafts of incense through the hearts of his worshipers.

*A quick answer I found here: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20070316053624AAoTlCC
** The Paschal Troparion, chanted in sets of three. More info here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paschal_troparion

God's Two-Cents

Albeit late in the week, I’d like to briefly share the experience we had this past Sunday. From what I understand (please correct me if I’m wrong), New Pointe Community Church began in Dover, Ohio, and has since spread across Stark County to multiple campuses. We attended the Canton site this past week, where we were able to worship comfortably with three or four hundred other members of the body of Christ.

It’s a unique experience sitting in an auditorium watching a video screen, knowing that, somewhere, the speaker, Pastor Dwight Mason, was not only addressing a congregation directly in front of him, but three other congregations via similar video screens. Initially, it’s a weird feeling; I can get the same experience sitting in my underwear on the couch at home. And I’m certain this argument has been raised at board meetings and in critical reviews across the nation since this multi-campus church movement has taken off. However, the wonders of modern technology now allow for a multi-thousand member church to be ‘one,’ hearing the same vision, same teaching, from the same man simultaneously.

I would love to end my experience there, but, once again, I feel compelled to portray my experience and observations in its entirety, which has not always taken the form of positive niceties. As I shared after our first experience at a local megachurch, there seems to be a lack of biblical depth and foundation to the teaching. I’m concerned, personally, about what seems to be a trend in churches like this; we have begun watering down Sunday morning messages to appeal to those who might find biblical fundamentals too intimidating or overwhelming. The current series at New Pointe is Five Emotions That Will Destroy Your Life. This past week we learned about grief, and how improperly dealing with grief and loss will imminently erode your faith, your personal well-being, and your relationships. This is true, without question. But these kinds of psycho-emotional therapy lessons mirror the kind of well-being lessons taught by Dr. Phil and Oprah. Since we have stapled some Bible references to them, we can call it a ‘sermon’ (or ‘message,’ for those who find the word ‘sermon’ unpalatable).

Adding parenthetical Bible references to the outline of a college course on “Grief and Loss” doesn’t by default imply Biblical depth. I don’t at all want to imply that every sermon ever taught should be verse-by-verse exegesis, but there are certainly ways to approach issues like this from the Bible, instead of supplementing someone else’s material with God’s two-cents.

Church Biology 101

I'm not going to lie, or pretend; We skipped church this past weekend. Altogether.

We went camping with my brother and sister-in-law instead, and decided that we would miss a week, since we added the 5th of May to add Orthodox Easter to the menu. 

That being said, I would like to take this Tuesday morning to expound upon an excerpt from the movie "Here Comes the Boom" (this blog has stirred in me an uncanny eye for anecdotal material from pop culture herein to share).

The context of the clip is entirely irrelevant. Listen to his biology lesson.

The local church gets like stagnating cells; We kick and scream with one another, pointing fingers, assigning blame when in reality, the Body of Christ is failing to operate how it should. We are infected. At large, denominational differences have festered to the point of sickness.

Our sickness is self-righteousness where there should be humility. Or contentment where there should be striving. Or staying the same where there should be change. Or relevance, at all cost, even at the sake of reverence.

Any of these things, and many more, cause stagnancy. And when that happens, "it ain't good." But all that decays can be restored, and eventually, if we stop bucking each other and focus on restoring the Body of Christ as a whole, we can hit a rhythm. We can begin working together and begin the restorative process.

In this scene, I feel like the student observing and portraying that which I don't fully understand. I just stand on my desk at 15churches.blogspot.com, trying so hard to get the attention of those much smarter and wiser and older and more experienced than I am, in hopes of someday one of them going, "Like... how a cut heals."

This is the turning point.

If you're a pastor or church leader, I challenge you to wrestle with God at length about what your church can be doing in conjunction with other local churches, 'hit a groove' and impact your communities more effectively.

Conduit of Grace of Truth

The celebration continues at Faith Community Church, located a few blocks from Malone University on Cleveland Avenue. This hometown local church, at first glance, seems to be proactively pursuing it's namesake: Their local community. A quick web search will land you on their homepage, which is filled with information about Canton's history, demographics, and current events. FCC is clearly highly concerned with making an impact on the community of Canton, as they undoubtedly have been for nearly seventy years.

Cleveland Avenue is a prominent road in the area, and the church is literally thirty feet from roaring traffic. But crossing the threshold brought Hannah and I into a place of tranquility and worship. Gentle rays glimmer through blue stained-glass windows, softening the atmosphere and calming the heart in preparation for worship. And amid the storms and stresses that life brings, peace in the presence of God is precisely what we needed.

Personal greetings by the pastor and several members of the congregation were followed by a pleasant array of musical numbers—worship choruses, hymns out of hymnals, choral performances and a special music, all of which spoke strongly of God and his being more than we could ever need. Again, I find it necessary to mention how encouraging it is to see a church striving to balance that liminal space of upholding a timeless heritage yet becoming relevant to a rapidly changing society. Since this topic, however, has been touched on numerous times throughout this exploration, I'd like to hone in on a different aspect of Sunday morning's service.

As with many sermon series across the American church, two weeks ago was a message about the empty tomb. Pastor Elden continued this series,  as he has been preaching through the Bible since last fall sometime. This past week we ventured into Acts, and I must say I saw "Church" laid out in an entirely new fashion.

Acts 1:8 explains how "Church" is going to get started, which comes about in the next chapter, during the celebration of the Jewish festival called Pentecost (or, Shaubuot). In short, this is the plan. "Power of the Holy Spirit comes on you twelve guys sitting in the upper room, and then you go." That's it. The next verse, Jesus is gone from the face of the earth. He doesn't leave any directions for a contingency plan. We, the Church, are the conduit of the grace and truth of Christ to the world.

In the scope of this semester-long exploration, then, it seems fitting that this simple definition can succinctly sum up the purposefulness and effectiveness of the Church. In what practical ways is a local church channeling the grace and truth of Christ? How can local churches strive together to channel Christ's message of grace and truth to their neighborhoods, communities, and world?

Unprecedented Charm and Unchanging Heritage

This journey has led Hannah and I to a widely varying array of churches and services; contemporary juxtaposed with the most sacred tradition, and everything in between. Everything, that is, except for your everyday, stereotypical Bible-thumping, fundamental, King-James-Version-only hometown church. Until now.

Sandy Valley Baptist Temple is, in a word, bold. The charm of the building and the quaintness of the sanctuary is mirrored by that of it's surroundings: Magnolia, Ohio, the archetypal American small town. The sanctuary is small, between 10-15 rows of pews stretching from a center aisle out to windowed walls, which glowed with spring's sunlight on the houseplants in each window sill. A painting of a tree on a hill behind the baptistry was reminiscent of the growth and renewal coming from a changed and transformed heart. A cornflower blue spills over the entire room, from the pew-coverings, to the carpet and the small stage, where the standard of heritage stand unchanged for who-knows how long; piano on the left, organ on the rights, pastor in the middle leading hymns from the hymnal. Everyone knows everyone (not a difficult feat when the congregation topped-out at 40 in attendance), so there was no "sneaking in the back" as visitors. Pastor Matthew quickly asked us to introduce ourselves and expressed his gratitude for our joining them. "Visitors are God's way of showing us He loves us," he said, "so you're being with us this morning is His giving us a hug."

His sermon was fiery, boldly challenging his congregation to not let troubles and burdens wear us out, but to see them as "exercise equipment," meant to strengthen and stretch us. He preached powerfully, passionately. With an openness and honesty to be admired. So honest, in fact, that he wore his brokenness on his sleeve, so to speak. It breaks my heart to think about the wounds that must exist within a man who rails against larger churches with "rock bands" and "gimmicks." Are they not, also the body of Christ? And is Pastor Matthew not also an equally called leader of the body of Christ, alongside others who have chosen to do things another way? I left challenged by his words, his strong biblical preaching, but also hurting for his heart, and the hearts of his congregation, who seemingly refuse to reach out to their community, to the body of Christ around them, or those lost living withing their neighborhood, simply because they do things a different way.

To put in in a word, Sandy Valley Baptist Temple is bold. They refuse to give, even an inch, on any one issue. And as stated on their beliefs page, they "make no apology for their conservative beliefs in many areas."* They gather boldly, dressed like "citizens of heaven."* They sing from hymnals, read the KJV, and preach the Word of God boldly and unabashedly, and are not afraid to offend or upset those around them. Many contemporary Christians would find their service uncomfortable, especialy with vendetta preaching against outside "liberal" churches, but then again, Christ didn't call us to be comfortable, and perhaps a reminder of the way things used to be is exactly what the church in America needs.

As a member of the body of Christ, Sandy Valley Baptist Temple boldly gathers and worships, just like they have since 1961. They're venerable, like a grandparent. You can't tell them they're wrong and nothing is going to change their minds, and that's okay!

*Both are references to the "What we Believe" page on SVBT's website, here

Easter in Alliance

It's been difficult this week to determine how to delicately describe the service we attended and pull out areas to be celebrated alongside the other bodies of believers we've experienced over the past ten weeks. Easter Sunday has always been a time of celebration and joyous worship for Hannah and I, and albeit that we grew up in different churches, we had similar expectations of what a Resurrection Sunday looks like.

And we were painfully wrong.

She got a new dress. I got a new shirt. We wanted to look our best as we came together with believers to celebrate the rising of our Lord Jesus Christ. But a celebration is not what we attended. I've shared before about the awkwardness that often comes with liminal space, the transition between two phases of existence. As a church switches over from tradition to relevant, it loses some things and it gains some things.

First United Presbyterian Church of Alliance is Exhibit A.

Amid the snoring of more than a couple individuals, we were reminded by the robed pastor that it was only after Jesus whispered Mary's name in the garden that she realized it was her Lord, and that even Jesus' closest disciples didn't believe that he'd risen until they saw him face-to-face. Though I never quite determined the bottom-line to his message, I was gladdened by the opportunity to open a hymnal and sing multiple verses to several hymns throughout the 75-minute service.

Please don't hear me say "we didn't get anything out of it;" It's not about us, but about Jesus Christ and we were glad to being worshiping together on Sunday. Nor am I saying "They were too outdated;" I've written more than once about how wonderful are the sacred traditions within the Church. I suppose the bottom line of what I am trying to present is this: Hannah and I both agreed after Sunday morning's service that First United Presbyterian Church in Alliance is the kind of church that makes nonbelievers not want to try going to church again, and it truly saddens me to say that.

Nonetheless, the one thing I cannot get away from is this:

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:24-25
[emphasis mine]

Regardless of who was talking to themselves, how awkward the preaching was, or how many dozed off within the first two minutes, the body of Christ remains together. The body of Christ is not forsaking their meeting together. The family of believers out at First United Presbyterian remain an image of steadfastness and commitment, both to Christ and to one another, and that is something to be celebrated.

Just read the last sentence...

In the wake of Sunday's morning mass at the Basilica of St. John the Baptist, I am, once again, left speechless by the ways in which God continues to teach me more about his Word, his Body the Church, and how we can look more and more like Jesus Christ as a whole.

One of my favorite passages in all of Scripture is Hebrews 12, and although several segments therein might be difficult to fully process, I have been drawn to specific verses this week. After writing about the concept of reverence in the Catholic mass I attended, I've been unable to get the following words off my mind:

You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom, and storm; to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, because they could not bear what was commanded: "If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned to death." The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, "I am trembling with fear."

Let's pause here.

That's a terrifying sight. For those who haven't done so, take a second and go back to those passages in Exodus 19 and 20 that describe this setting of Moses being summoned to a smoke-covered mountain and interacting with a Holy God. This is far bigger than a quivering Bilbo in the presence of an infuriated Gandalf. God came to earth to speak to His people in the form of billowing smoke that covered an entire mountain, with thunder and lightning, and a sound that resembled an ever-crescendo-ing trumpet blast. The people of God spent two days readying themselves for the His arrival. They washed their clothes and abstained from sexual relations; anything that would distract them from the presence of God was put off in preparation for His coming.

When he arrived, everyone in the entire camp (which, if my memory serves correctly, was estimated to be over a million people),* trembled in fear of the Lord.

The writer of Hebrews tells us that this Mt. Sinai picture does not, however, describe that to which we are summoned:

But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.

 The parallel imagery used to describe these two mountains, these two historic markers in Judeo-Christian tradition, have powerful implications for how we approach God today. The people at the foot of Mount Sinai didn't appear to grasp the full nature of what was transpiring before their eyes. It scared them, but it didn't penetrate to their souls.

The hope-filled nation (and subsequently, the hope-filled Church) that gathers in the presence of living God knows the power of Him who has saved them, and is reverent thereof. It's not a blood-tingling fear that grips them, but a a gentle heart-felt response to Christ, in light of their utter insignificance.

These passages continue to transform before my eyes every time I read them. As a church body, are we walking in religious fear of an unknown, stormy God? Or are we living in reverence and thus drawn to humbly pursue a Spirit-filled relationship with a Holy God?

Do our Sunday mornings reflect reverence? Or haphazardness? Do we approach God too freely and confidently, as if we have any rights or entitlements within His grace?

Have we sacrifice reverence for relevance?

*Exodus 12:37 sheds light on this number

The Basilica of St. John the Baptist

Last Sunday is the first time in this exploration which I did not have a moment of "Ah-ha, that's what I'll pull out and expand in my post this week." We attended the morning mass at the Basilica of St. John the Baptist downtown Canton. I'd been inside the church before, performing a choir concert with the Malone University Chorale. The architecture and aesthetics of the nave are modernity's longing for the glory of ancient European cathedrals, and initially I saw these features simply as the elegant attempts to worship God through the art of building.

As the service continued, however, I quickly became lost in a much larger concept. The act of building that transpired under the direction of architect James Renwick Jr. in 1871 was, perhaps, a worshipful act in itself. Historically, men and women, entire civilizations and cultures, have repeatedly endeavored to design and construct elaborate spaces in which to gather together in worship of the Lord.  What I noticed sitting in that room, listening to the prayers of the priest, and the responses of the worshipers, is that everything around me was echoing the same thing: Reverence.

Striated Corinthian columns uphold several Gothic archways running the length of the sanctuary, from the main entrance to the altar, serving as parallel spines of the room. From the back looking forward, one finds it nearly impossible not to have a wandering gaze drawn upward, as the very shapes of the room point to the heavens.


The candles on the alter, arranged with the lowest on the outside and each subsequent raising two inches or so, again coax one's eyes heavenward. Even from the outside, the building's multiple spires and steeples strain upward, marking Canton's skyline with a clear indication that God is still revered as Holy within these city limits.



And under soaring ceilings, kneeling on padded boards in dozens of rows of old wooden pews, the people of God pray, worshiping him silently, with not a sound echoing off the seemingly ancient walls but the occasional creak of a 150-year-old wooden bench.

Reverence.

The mass itself was obviously in alignment with the theme of Palm Sunday, and we each received palm branches to take with us as a reminder of the triumphal entry Christ made into the city of Jerusalem. The Gospel reading—and what a reading it was!—covered everything from the betrayal of Jesus by Judas, in Luke 22, to his burial at the end of chapter 23. One of the hymns echoed "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of host. Heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord," speaking humility into our hearts in utter veneration of Him who is Holy above all else.

Throughout this entire exploration, I have tried to express the various aspects of these churches which effectively live out the work of the Body of Christ. As a Church universally, we ought be cautious to not forget the reverent roots from which each of our various genres of worship evolved. Catholicism, steeped in tradition, holds true to a reverent heart of worship before the Almighty God of the universe. And let us not be quick to point fingers at scandals and inconsistencies, as each of us are similarly sin-depraved humans in need of the constant grace of a Holy God.

Holy Cross Lutheran Church

In stark juxtaposition with my previous post about the youth of the local church, gathering in unashamed worship together at The Gathering, Hannah and I spent Sunday morning at the 8:00a.m. service at Holy Cross Lutheran Church. The 8:00a.m. service is, per usual, comprised almost entirely of what some churches might refer to as "golden saints" or "senior saints." I saw one child, one teenager, and perhaps one couple that looked to be college-aged. Other than that, the rest of the attenders of this tradition, call-and-response liturgical service were at least in their 60s.

Once again, we were pleasantly surprised. Though I can't always explain where certain misconceptions within my own heart come from, I have to admit I expected this particular demographic to be less amiable and more rigid or stuffy. But this group loved their church, their pastors, and one-another. And most importantly, they clearly loved God. Listening to them sing old hymns, the way they repeated in unison "Here our prayer," their laughter with one-another as jokes were made at the end of the service all served to create a comfortable, beautiful environment of corporate worship.

Over the last 24-hours, I've been really mulling over what else to include in this post to avoid meaningless rambling, and the one concept that keeps arising both in conversation with people and in my own reflection is the concept of multiple services. Many of the churches we have gone to have had multiple service options, and my thoughts have not ventured this directions until this week. I find myself questioning why so many churches have different services?

Holy Cross offered three services: "Traditional" at 8:00a.m., "Blended at 8:45a.m., in the other sanctuary, and "Contemporary" at 11:00a.m. All three were very different. The traditional service we attended has already been described; they sangs old hymns, had a choir involved, and had music notes in the worship folder to guide certain songs. The blended service had the same liturgy in the worship folder as the traditional service, but instead of hymns and tonal chants, they sang worship choruses like "Above All," and "Open Our Hearts, Lord." The contemporary service is referred to as "Expressions of Praise" on their website and is entirely different. Everything is projected on a screen, worship is led by a band, everything seems more casual.

My question is this: Does this kind of smorgasbord of services serve the body of Christ as it serves the world? Or does it foster the same "have it your way" mentality that pervades all aspects of modern society?

I spent one week at this church, and am in no way attempting to place judgment on them, their staff, or the motives behind their decisions. The building and the size of the two services we saw (we poked our heads in the 8:45 service before leaving) are indicative that the church is by no means ineffective. I am simply presenting my own observations alongside accompanying thoughts and reflections: Why have multiple services?

If one service is running out of space and a church is growing to the point where adding a service is the only way to accommodate for growth then by all means, add services! I'd like to think that this is the mindset behind most churches with such options. But the fact that I just referred to them as 'options' speaks to the preference-oriented mindset in the American church today, and if we, as a body are choosing to not worship God corporately as one whole body simply because, "I don't get anything out of the liturgy," or "I don't like the drums," or "It's too loud," or "It's boring," I'm afraid we're losing something vital in the body.

The young have so much to learn from the old, and the old remember a faith and life so vibrant and fresh when worshiping with the young. Why would we separate the two into various styles of services? Based on preferences? Or is it legitimately based on needs? Is it to reach a larger crowd by appealing to various ages, demographics, and... worship preferences?

I am simply trying to convey that this seems like a dangerous path to start down. Implications are endless regarding what might happen to our motives, to our spiritual sensitivity, to the DNA of our entire church we let questions of "What will make those in attendance most comfortable, most happy during worship?" and "How can we appeal to one generation while maintaining a relevant hold on another generation?" take the place of "What does God truly desire for this body of believers?" and "How can we be most effective in reaching our community?"

We can never be too self-aware, as individuals, or as a church. We ought never stop evaluating ourselves and our motives. To quote the Father of the Reformation,

"I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all. But whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess."
                                                             -Martin Luther

Anything we attempt to do in our own strength, with human motives, will eventually and catastrophically fail. That which we do because it we were called by God will eternally and gloriously endure any kind of hardship.

The Gathering

I realized tonight how incredibly tragic it would have been had I let these fifteen weeks go by and never taken a moment to celebrate the youth of the local church. Words can not justly describe how invaluable was work that Joel Daniel Harris, Mike Suit and many others did to bring together dozens of local churches from a range of denominations into an intentional time of common worship and celebration.

The Gathering, Spring 2013 was titled Rise Up. At The Gathering, several hundred middle-school and high-school-aged students were led in worship by parts of the Rivertree Christian Church worship team. 

"Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you."

The words from Ephesians 5:14 were brought to the hundred of youth in the dark auditorium tonight by Matt Brumfield along with a challenge to let Christ truly awaken our faith and let it transform every aspect our lives (thematic of many of my conversations and posts recently). Following the brief message, Andrew Berg led us in a soaring melody of these very words, "Wake up," and the youth were instructed to break off into their respective youth groups and spend time praying through what it would look like for them to be woken up by Christ and their faith lived out every single day.

The sound of hundreds of voices praying, countless knees on the ground, endless strings of hands clasping hands, all raising praise and requests, thanksgivings and supplications before a Holy God. All done by those between 11 and 18 years of age. I couldn't help but be reminded of my own youth group days, and the kind of fiery, abandoned faith with which I lived, spoke, and worshiped. The passion of youth is irreplaceable.

Tonight's event also included a time of offering, which was collected and donated to the non-profit TomTod Ideas (website in progress, more on TomTod Ideas here., an organization dedicated to helping middle school students launch absurd ideas to rebuild a broken world.

Thanks so much, Joel Daniel, Mike, and the many others who worked countless hours to bring The Gathering together. It's truly beautiful when the church of God puts aside its theological and doctrinal differences for the sake of worshiping God together and working together to challenge the youth of the body of Christ to rise up and change the Kingdom.

We could all use a little Orthodoxy

Orthodoxy, in the etymological sense of the word, means "right thinking," or, from the Slavic roots of a parallel word regarding religion, "the right way to glorify God." One can easily procure this information via a one-word Google search, "Orthodoxy," and a subsequent perusing of the Wikipedia page dedicated to this topic. Experiencing Orthodoxy is a different matter entirely.

We chose this past Sunday to alter our schedule again and attend St. George's Romanian Orthodox Church, not too far from our own house. Though we've heard the bells tolling every so often from the comfort of our living room, we hadn't ever ventured into an Orthodox church service and little-to-no expectation. One man had told me that they didn't speak English, but his information was quickly disproved.

A few people had already found seats by the time we'd arrived, but the sanctuary was mostly empty. The smells, sounds, and setting were not too dissimilar from the Anglican service we attended several weeks ago; candles glowed in the narthex, incense rose to the high ceilings, chanted, tonal prayers intermingling with the tolling of the Sunday morning bells all set the stage for timeless worship. Every aspect of the service, from the building itself, to the liturgy used, to the short spoken word from the priest, was static, emotionless, allowing the congregation to focus entirely on God.

Chanted liturgies contained over 200 Scriptural quotations, over 100 from both the Old and New Testaments. Prayers muttered by the priest were often echoed in Romanian. There was no order of service provided, and having had no prior knowledge of what was transpiring, Hannah and I were, in a word, clueless. Nonetheless, the aura of the room was nothing by worshipful. After the service, a couple approached us and invited us to the social hour afterwards, which we decided to attend, hoping to have some questions answered.

My wife is getting a second major in History, presently, and one of her courses last semester was Medieval Europe. Naturally, she studied Orthodoxy Christianity, alongside other factions of religion at the time, so she had more of a base knowledge from which to ask questions than I did. The gentlemen who was fielding our questions is, ironically enough, a Theological Studies student in the graduate program at Malone University, and a friend-of-a-friend who works in local church-planting. It was enlightening to attain a glimpse of the Orthodox faith from the man's perspective, as he is obviously able to see things from a more objective, unbiased point of view.

The essence of an Orthodox service is not at all about "what I got out of it," as we hear so often from the pervasive American, self-absorbed mindset. Instead, the services are conducted in such a way so as to strip away any element of human origin and allow one to entirely focus on Holy God. One gentleman, after the service, mentioned how easy it makes service planning, to know that they're going to do things, this week, the same way the Orthodox church has done them, this week of the year, for the last fifteen hundred years. The liturgy of the Orthodox church follows the same liturgical calendar, repeating year, after year, after year. In fact, like I alluded to before, every aspect of worship, from the architecture—often reflective of the Trinity (three steps, three doors, etc.)—to the words spoken and chanted are seeded so deeply in centuries of faith and tradition, that their origins are not even necessarily known to many.

This antiquity is often looked down upon by the Evangelical community for one reason or another. Granted, a 'seeker' is more apt to enjoy the coffee and the welcome and the trendy music of many churches in the area than they are the tranquility of a 15th century worship setting. But again, in the scope of the Body of Christ, and in trying to focus on what we have in common with one another, I would remind you all, as I was reminded by Sunday's liturgy, that these traditions exist for a reason. They've 'worked,' so to speak, for thousands of years. Let us not deny the value of quietness, stillness, and what might sometimes be a 'going through the motions' of liturgical tradition. These motions remind us that it's not about us. They instill in us a habit of acknowledging the Divine, and reiterate to us that our preferences and rights are naught in the sight of Holy God. This is the "right way" of thinking, and though the church has evolved in hundreds of way since the establishment of Orthodoxy, their practices will never cease to speak to the constancy and immutability of our God and to the timeless nature of our need for more of Him.

The Supremacy of Christ

A topic of thought and many conversations in my life over the past two weeks has been the supremacy of Christ, in all things, all the time, in every way.

In between these two paragraphs, I did a Google search for "The Supremacy of Christ," and I found these words:

"The Apostle Paul wrote to show the superiority of Christ over all–over all human philosophies, traditions, personalities, and accomplishments. He wrote to remind Christians of what they already possess in Christ. He wants us to understand that everything we need, in Christ, we have—everything! All the freedom, security, acceptance, affection, approval, validation, protection, cleansing, righteousness and rescue we crave, in Christ, we already own. This frees us to live a life of radical generosity, risk, sacrifice, courage and loss. Because our identity, worth, and value doesn’t depend on our success, but Christ’s success for us, we can live life going to the back not getting to the front. We’re free, in other words, to become small.

Paul’s goal is to help us see the infinite supremacy and beauty of Jesus so we would be able to resist looking to anything smaller for the freedom and fullness we long for."

This is an excerpt from a blog written by Tullian Tchividjian in a blog put forth by The Gospel Coalition, which is, by design, the most fitting name to give to a team of ministers who forthrightly and unconditionally proclaim words like those written above in hopes of transforming the consumeristic, politicized, relativistic, individualistic, post-modernistic and ultimately self-serving idolatrous mindsets and practices that are running unchecked through rising generations of "Christians."

For those of you who may have gotten lost in the multi-syllabic adjectives I just used, the bottom line is this: It's really, truly, entirely, seriously, ultimately, once-and-for-all, one-hundred percent not about you. Nor me. Nor my church, your church, their church, this church, that church, or that obnoxious know-it-all blogging about all these churches. It's simply about Christ, in all things, in all ways, always.

Human philosophies and traditions—all Christ's! Human hobbies, interests, pastimes—all Christ's! Human relationships—Christ's! Human rights—we have none because we are Christ's!

What the Apostle Paul, Tchividjian, Idleman, Chan, my father, and so many other extraordinary men, leaders, and pastors are and have championed throughout all time, since Christ ascended into heaven and sent his Spirit to this earth on Pentecost, is that our lives, our fortunes, our jobs, our affections are his and and his alone.

But this man can show me in Scripture where it says it's okay for him to do this, that and the other thing.

That's fine, as long as those areas, along with every other facet of our lives, are subjected wholly to the supremacy of Christ, And this, we can only ensure, slowly, over time, through rigorous, diligent reading of his Word, which is able to see through our own lies through which we often refuse to see, ourselves, and search out from within us our true motives and intentions, our attitudes and mindsets, revealing every shortcoming, flaw, weakness, and area of our lives that we have yet to surrender to Christ.

*http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tullian/2010/06/28/the-supremacy-of-christ/

Let's Celebrate!

First of all, let me apologize for the brevity of last week's content. While I wish I could have expounded further on Dueber Church, as well as explore some other topics God has laid on my heart recently, the days quickly evaded me, and my schedule did not allow for the thoroughness I would have preferred. That said, this week will hopefully be different, as well as forthcoming weeks, and I expect to have more time to commit to this exploration we've embarked on together.

Per our initial schedule, Hannah and I attended a service at New Life Tabernacle, in Massillon, Ohio this past Sunday night. Though my prior schema of Sunday evening services is that they are somewhat lacking, the Pentecostal congregation at New Life pulled out all the stops to worship God, as they doubtless do on a regular basis.

The evening was, in a word, loud. The style of uninhibited worship into which the congregation at New Life was led is the kind of worship I've only seen teenagers experience at massive youth conferences. Nonetheless, from four elementary-age girls joining hands in worship of our God, to the elderly man bouncing and dancing in his pew, the people of God were engaged in unabashed, wall-shaking worship of Him, our all-consuming Fire.

The sermon was no-less excited, as the pastor challenged us, the people of God, to let 2013 be a year of resurrected promises. Whether that be claiming God's promises to heal sickness, to save the lost, or to reconcile relationships. he emphasized our need for an unshakable, living faith in the works God has promised to do.

Again, I have to admit that my own preconceived notions of a Pentecostal service planted seeds of skepticism and criticism in my heart from the onset. And sitting in the pew next to Hannah before the service started, I asked God to change my heart in that moment, and in that moment, God changed my heart. I worshiped God like I hadn't worshiped in a long time. While the emotional experiences pushed in a Pentecostal worship setting are often downplayed by the more fundamental thinkers in the Church, there is an absolutely invaluable aspect to experiencing the Spirit moving through my body, heart, and mind the way I felt Sunday night. I left there wondering what some of the others churches I've attended, even the one in which I grew up, are missing out on in this manner. The kind of celebration that ensued at New Life Sunday night, through vibrant vocals and explosive music, simply didn't happen at my church growing up. And while I understand that major life decisions made amidst a high-energy, high-emotion setting like that can often times lack credibility, I don't doubt that God's Spirit arouses our emotions and turns our hearts to Him in very real ways therein.

Other parts of the service that I don't experience often, and that I feel like, as the body, we don't do nearly enough, were testimonies. Several men and women stood and shared how God had been moving and working in their lives.

When was the last time I gave testimony to God for the work He's doing in my life?

When was the last time you did?

Furthermore, the leadership at New Life both sang and preached against the power of Hell. In my head, sometimes I develop child-like daydreams of how the spiritual realm is reacting to the goings-on in the physical world around us, and I must emphasize that I fully believe that Satan and his demons were royally frustrated by the rejoicing the church was doing in the victory of Christ over all things. It's laughable, really, to think how much credence we give our Enemy when the Spirit of God through Paul made it abundantly clear that Christ has disarmed the powers of darkness entirely. To put it another way, they have nothing on the people of God! And New Life celebrated that victory on Sunday night.

It was refreshing and emotionally rejuvenating to worship God and celebrate the body of Christ in that way. I know I haven't asked for feedback directly before, but I am curious, now, what God has been doing in your lives. I know I have at least one or two readers who have something about which to testify. Why not utilize this virtual public space to do just that? Tell us how God has been working in your lives. Let us celebrate together as the body of Christ!

Dueber

After a few last minute changes to our tentative schedule, Hannah and I decided to switch the Chapel at Akron with the United Methodist weekend, and change actual Methodist churches. Extenuating circumstances led us to the discovery of Dueber United Methodist Church. Our curiosity piqued when we were first searching for a new church to attend this past week, and we incidentally stumbled upon the Dueber United Methodist Church's website, which is mostly bilingual. More commonly shortened to Dueber Church, their 11:11a.m. worship service fit our schedule needs for this past weekend (intentional wording—the irony of the consumeristic American church-goer), and we were eager to find out what God was doing at this little church in downtown Canton.

For those unfamiliar with the city of Canton, it was once a thriving metropolis. Decades of a declining need for factories and the rise of the American suburbs has left Canton a charming, but somewhat decrepit little town, with certain parts that are in desperate need of an economic face-lift. Dueber Church is nestled in one of these dilapidated neighborhoods and towers above the boarded- up one- and two-story houses around it; a nostalgic reminder of better times. Nonetheless, Dueber Church thrives. Hosting two services, several weekday activities and study groups, as well as constant community involvement, the body of Christ at Dueber has not given up on their calling to extend the body of Christ into the local neighborhoods of downtown Canton.

The elegant structure in which the church gathers is not to be understated. Like a modern-age cathedral, the church was built when Christians valued worshiping God through every facet of the gathering, including the architecture of the building that housed them. With lofty decorated ceilings and a vibrant crimson santuary, Dueber Church is the juxtaposition of the traditional with the contemporary. The golden saints were leaving as we arriving with the rest of those preferring of contemporary worship, which is to be assumed when the traditional service precedes the Sunday School hour. The new arrivals that filed into the pews around Hannah and I were dressed primarily in street clothes and seemed to be less-well-versed in the ways of 'church,' bringing a fresh vibrancy and truly awesome dynamic to the service. These seemingly younger Christians obviously valued the community at Dueber for reasons far beyond their own preference or taste. They seemed eager for the Word and eager to join the brotherhood of believers in corporate worship.

I always find it refreshing when a church is trying to gracefully bridge the gap—that uncomfortable switch between the traditional and the contemporary. The liminal space between such phases in the life of a church is awkward and often results in natural growing pains. Any church that has crossed the gap can relate to these pains: people leaving, new people coming, complaining, griping, lobbying for this or that preference, etc. But the grace with which Dr. Chet Harris and his staff seem to be handling this transition is beautiful. Though we weren't able to attend the early service, the amount of golden saints we saw exiting was demonstrative of the growing that is still happening in all aspects of the church.

My wife and I found it interesting that the senior pastor had his doctorate. Though it's not terribly uncommon, it's still something to be revered, and his twenty-some years of pastoring Dueber and pursuing further education is clearly seen through his "Bible-grounded, thought-provoking sermons."* This past Sunday, he tackled a topic that has the potential to be one of the most difficult and uncomfortable things on which to preach: Adultery, as a natural progression in his series through the Ten Commandments. Harris stood hard ground, refusing to waffle or compromise in any way when it came to dealing with a biblical perspective on adultery. The ability to present sound biblical, culturally relevant truth in a way that is engaging and thought-provoking is not something to be taken lightly, and Harris treaded difficult waters with acute precision and deliberation.

In this day and age of throwing away things that "don't work," or in some way fail to meet our expectations (cars, iPods, marriages, jobs, etc.), Harris serves as a model of true faithfulness, being true to the congregation at Dueber for over 25 years, through what have apparently been some less-than-stellar days (as all churches inevitably experience). I am excited that Dueber Church wound up on our schedule, albeit a last-minute, God-planned addition. Though the city of Canton is not the vivacious entity it used to be, churches like Dueber remain a constant source of life and spiritual light amid otherwise ever-darkening streets.

*http://www.dueber.org/content.cfm?id=304

Grace

Theology, denominations, heritage, preferences aside, there is one aspect of every Christian's life that is utterly non-negotiable. Without the concept of grace, this journey and everything any of us believes or cares about is entirely superfluous. 

Grace is essential, and a proper understanding of grace is equally essential to the on-going sanctification, or "making holy before God," for every believer. Grace begins with the onset: Christ's free gift of grace, a chance to start over, clean, brand new before God. But grace continues in the daily workings of our everyday. God gives us the grace to change and to stay changed. No matter what we have done, from whence we've come, God extends grace.

But God also demands change.

He forgives our sins. Those that occurred once, and those that have become a lifestyle of wickedness and debauchery. But the Holy, Redeeming Savior of the universe requires a grace-filled, radical, abandoned lifestyle alteration upon the acceptance of such grace. We aren't allowed to keep on sinning. We are allowed, and in fact commanded to judge and be judged according to the Word of God when we claim to have accepted grace and are refusing to live in the life-changing grace God extends.

A changed heart and life, however, does not automatically wipe away the natural, physical consequences of a life previously lived in sin. God doesn't promise to wipe away our rap sheets upon salvation. Getting saved in prison doesn't get you out of prison. Allowing God to change you doesn't automatically fix a relationship you ruined. Or get you out of debt. Or get your name off of any lists. He doesn't promise to erase human-instilled labels. 

But when that change occurs, it is total and complete, and God does promise that a life lived out for him from that point on will be more powerful than we could possibly fathom, as seen in Paul's testimony. One young man I know has recently turned a complete 180-degree, from a life of pot, drinking and girls to a life sold out to Christ. It's radical, it's real and it's entirely and unmistakably by the grace of God. 

As we are tempted to judge churches or individuals based on what we hear, what people say, or what one man writes about in his weekly blog, we must never forget that no matter what preferences, perspectives or opinions drive us apart, we are united under grace. If it was, perhaps, diluted and tossed in at the end with a "repeat-after-me" prayer, it's still grace. If over-zealously presented in a threatening sermon on hell and eternal torment, it's still grace. It's the once-for-all promise of God, as well as the "be holy as I am holy" empowerment of God. 

From God to us, from us to each other. This simple post is reflective of my week, the things I'm personally going through, and a reminder to myself and all of you to never stop living in the grace of God, and extending that grace to those around, no matter how disastrous their offense.

Welcome to Faith Family

As this journey to explore the local church continues, I constantly find myself having to entirely reevaluate what I post and why I post it. I want this to be something exciting, yet, perhaps, challenging as well, but I can't let myself fall to the temptation to write what I know will gain me readers over what I believe is truth or what I feel called to really convey. Last week was the first time I posted against a local church in any way. While along the way there have been preference issues on my part, I hadn't had to point out sound biblical err until last week. And while, without a doubt, all these churches are doing something right and are, in fact, a beautiful, unique part of the body and bride of Christ, there will inevitably arise issues that I cannot in good conscience ignore. I promised to bring as an accurate picture as possible—based on one short experience—of these churches into this celebration of the body of Christ, a body that consists of human beings, rendering it entirely imperfect, albeit beautiful. That being said, welcome to week five of 15 Churches in 15 Weeks.

Making our way through the snowy landscape in out little Chevy Cavalier, Hannah and I, along with one of my good friends, talked about what to expect. Anyone who lives in the Greater Akron-Canton Area has some sort of preconceived notion about Faith Family Church. For those of you who don't, perhaps you have visited the area sometime in May for Malone University's graduation ceremony at the airport-esque church located just off I-77 north of Canton. In short, Faith Family embodies everything that is mega-church.

I cannot do justice to how welcomed we felt! Clear out at the end of their driveway—a solid quarter mile walk from the building itself—we were smiled in by the first of the welcome brigade; from being coaxed into the perfect VIP—first time visitor—parking spot and ushered into the VIP room where we got briefed about the goings-on and given a free mug,to the smiles that graced our entry all the way to our seat, we knew that we were a welcome, valued part of Faith Family's mission.

Shortly after being seated, the welcome package came on-screen, explaining what to expect from the service and making a few incognito announcements. A time of worship followed. Any time I'm worshiping in a setting like this, my heart is immediately redirected to and taken up in the text of Hebrews 12:22-23, where the writer describes the Holy Gathering to which we have been invited. Thousands upon thousands of voices, all praising God in unison. Professionally orchestrated lighting, stellar video cuts of the band, soaring vocals, a choir; all designed to create a worship experience unlike any other.

Pastor Mike Cameneti takes the stage, and within minutes the congregation hears about how effective Faith Family is being in the community. From the booming prison ministry to their founding of Turnaround Community Center, a not-for-profit organization downtown Canton that provides meals, clothing, and advocacy services to those living in poverty here in the city (more here). Faith Family also raised $42,000 dollars last November to buy body armor for the Stark County Sheriff Dept. It goes without dispute that Faith Family is concerned about the Kingdom and making a difference here in the Canton community.

Several of the unfortunate stereotypes surrounding mega-churches were validated in the sermon, however, as Cameneti talked the congregation through how to prioritze relationships properly. Using sporadic biblical support, he championed our relationship with God as priority number one, which makes sense, but in doing so, I got the impression that to him, this meant involvement at a local church—specifically, his—and incidentally juxtaposed this with an obvious disdain for the arising model of missional communities—or house-churches. There wasn't an incredible amount of depth to the sermon itself, but he spoke truth, nonetheless. Cameneti taught on paddling children, loving a spouse, honoring your parents and loving your children, to name a few. Family is not just a part of the name; it's an unmistakable part of the DNA of this church.

Faith Family appears to be an extremely tight-knit, full-sized, Kingdom-oriented body of believers, and while my impression of the teaching was that it didn't go as deep as it could have, they offer dozens of opportunities to connect and go deeper in small groups and are clearly making a lasting impact on this community. While the mega-church may not be preferable to some, they are, without doubt an invaluable part of the body of Christ. If next spring, 18 tornadoes rip through Stark County and leave hundreds displaced and disoriented, Faith Family will be leading the charge to aid those in trouble and to provide a home-base of relief efforts. We, the local church, are, together, a gargantuan, imperfect, minuscule, preferable, thriving, dissipating, living and breathing organism; the body of Christ.

On Giving

Our attitude toward giving must not be unlike our attitude toward our faith, toward following Jesus Christ, in general. There is so much to say on this issue, but I am not an expert, and, honestly, since I don't have time to do much research to figure out others much smarter than I have to say, I plan on this being a short, yet hopefully challenging blurb bout giving and stewardship based strictly on what God has done in my life recently.

I recently finished Not a Fan by Kyle Idleman, which, as a good friend of mine pointed out, is a book written every year or more, simply by a different author with a slightly different angle. Essentialy, what Idleman and Platt and Claiborne and so many others are reiterating in their books, sermons, and lives is that faith is not a list of do's and don't's; it's a radical self-denial resulting in abandon-free followship of Jesus Christ. When this happens, Timothy Serafino ceases to be Timothy Serafino, but slowly becomes more like Jesus Christ; He does what Jesus does, how Jesus does it, when Jesus does it; He says what Jesus says when and how Jesus does; He walks, talks, interacts, loves, judges, forgives, challenges, calls-out, extends grace, moves, lives and dies like Jesus. Idleman exegetes Luke 9:23 to demonstrate this point, that as we decide to follow Christ, we move, and lie down our own lives, our own rights, our own preferences and priorities, in pursuit of Jesus Christ.

Laying down our lives... we have nothing. No money. No gifts. No cars. No houses or clothes or food. No talents. No rights. Nothing. Everything belongs entirely to God, bar nothing. When the Spirit has this kind of life-transforming effect on a life sacrificed to God daily, selflessness is the natural bi-product. Not unlike our discussion on community, our discussion on giving needs turned on its head. It's not about giving or stewardship. It's entirely about letting the Spirit take over our lives and change our mindsets toward "our" possessions. It's not enough to give ten percent. It's not enough to give ninety percent if your mindset is religious obligation, legalistic checklist-fulfilling (not that you'd really admit it if that were the case, naturally), or that God now owes you His promised blessing, directly deposited into account XXXXXXX3223. 

Giving is the natural result of realizing that we owe God everything, and He owes us nothing at all. Giving with the expectation of financial or material return leads to bitterness, resentment and disappointment. Giving because the Spirit has overcome your life, and you can't help but return to God what is God's, brings joy and security, even when moths destroy and thieves steal, when cancer rots our bodies, when eyes stop working like they should or when jobs and sources of financial income are gone. When we abandon all to follow Christ, He is always faithful to meet our needs.

Living In Full Expectation

Just around the corner from my apartment, a congregation of 200-250 gather to worship every Sunday morning at 10:30a.m., and Hannah and I had the wonderful experience of worshiping with them two days ago.

It was intense.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't already have some impression of the demographics of L.I.F.E. Ministries International Church going in. A good friend of mine, Rev. L. Randall Heckert, is close with the pastor of L.I.F.E., and he and I had talked about the church months ago. What I learned in that conversation was the very reason it made the list of churches we plan to visit in the first place; I knew we could expect, yet again, a distinct style of doing church. L.I.F.E. is an entirely African-American congregation.

Hallelujahs echoed through the sanctuary as Hannah and I sat at the end of a pew near the back waiting for the service to begin. Worshipful music played over the buzz of greeting and milling, and two or three women stood down front, clearly moved by the music, shouting, "Hallelujah" repetitively until the service began.

Six or seven vocalists, including Pastor George Dunwoody himself singing and playing the keys, led us in several lengthy, Spirit-powered and soul-felt worship songs. Members of the congregation made joyful noises, shouting and crying out to God and banging on their own tambourines and other instruments. As clearly out of place as I couldn't help but humanly feel, the unity in the sanctuary, within the presence of a Living God, was palpable. We were brothers and sisters in Christ, regardless the tones of our skin.

February is Stewardship Month, and though the majority of the preached message wasn't necessarily grounded in the Word, the members of L.I.F.E. were reminded that "Giving is the engine that pulls the train-load of blessing."  Unfortunately, the majority of his message sounded like God is "the Great Mutual Fund in the Sky," and we all need to give to the church so that we get something (hopefully, more) in return. Pastor Dunwoody brought up some good points on stewardship and our mindset toward our possessions, but in the end a lot of what I heard (me, one person, a human) was that God won't bless you, or heal you, or prosper you, or get you out of debt until you give to his Kingdom (which, if that was where it ended, might not be all bad), and that when you do, He will. If that is the mindset we have toward our relationship with God, especially toward giving, I'm afraid we are in for some massive disappointments. I promised to be real with my readers as we journeyed together through various styles of church, and this is one instance where I feel compelled to observe that though the Body of Christ at L.I.F.E. is passionate and unapologetic in their worship of a Living God, the way they portrayed His promises and blessings was less than accurate.

I will probably talk more about stewardship and giving later this week.

God wants to bless us and help us in our times of trouble, all he asks us to do "push the reset button," which was a phrase repeated by a woman at the beginning of the service on Sunday, which I gathered meant something to the effect of "changing one's entire mindset, remembering our salvation, and claiming/calling on God's power." There is so much to be said of the power of this medium-sized congregation like L.I.F.E. living in full expectation that a Great, Holy, Powerful, Living, Loving God is on the move* and doing great things in his Kingdom. For more about L.I.F.E. Ministries, visit their website here.

*These five words should be credited to Bono and his speech/book "God is On the Move," just because Bono is Bono.

Here we go again...

*
Anyone who has graced the campus of a small Christian institution (whether here in the Midwest or out on the West Coast, and everywhere in between) has heard the word, probably in gross excess.

Painted on Student Development office walls, discussed in our humanities courses, or ministry courses, pasted up in the hallways of residence halls in colorful fonts propagating this abstract, undefined concept.

The buzz word, community, and the man behind the curtain, Bonhoeffer, are so entirely misused, overused, misunderstood at large in contemporary, relevant Christian circles.

Anyone who has breached the topics of campus-life, Christian community, or authenticity with me in the past twelve months has probably gotten a much larger earful than they signed up for upon entering the conversation. It's something I'm passionate about, and I want to continue to discuss and challenge this concept and the status-quo understanding thereof in modern Christian society. I wrote an angry essay about it once, but that was in a former life when I was quite bitter about the "community" in which I was living. Since then, my understanding of this concept has matured slightly, though, like many of us, is most likely still in need of development and deepening.

Ekklesia, the church we attended on Sunday morning, explains their value of community on their website. They call it "Authentic, Accepting Community," and begin by claiming that "Ekklesia exists as a community." The house where I lived a year ago championed their community and how much like the Acts 2 church we were. Student development meetings on campus strive to create and develop community.

These perspectives are all quite valid, but seemingly incomplete at their core. Community, as idolized by Christians in America today, is really nothing more than the bi-product of Christian living. It's a fruit; it's not the tree. Community can't beget more community. Community is the transcendental, incalculable, immeasurable, ideal and inevitable result of, well, the active application and implementation of the principles taught by Pastor James at Ekklesia out of Matthew 5.

"You have heard it said [insert external behavior here], but I tell you [love, purity, perseverance, integrity, selflessness, and grace]" are the internal, Spirit-filled attitudes and lifestyles that Christ requires. Go back and look through Matthew 5:21-48 and you'll find those themes in Christ's specific examples.

When we, all of us, simultaneously, together, at the same time, are moved and matured by the Holy Spirit to the place where those mindsets naturally pervade our entire existences, then our gathering will become a place of community. Community is the result of Spirit-filled living. Much in the same way that the fruit of the Spirit are... the fruit... of Spirit-filled living. The fruit isn't the focus. Community isn't and can't be the goal. The Spirit is the goal.

Bonhoeffer explains that "He that loves community destroys community. He that loves the brethren builds community." Building community is the after-effect of Christian-living. Let us not misunderstand the champion of Christian community. Life Together is about Christian-living, which begets Christian community.

I have more to say, but this has gone on long enough. I want to know your thoughts on this issue. I'm one man and in no way the source of all wisdom. Let's talk.

*gotta cite the photo http://www.ubfriends.org/2012/05/02/community-life-together-dietrich-bonhoeffer/

Coffee, couches, and the Word.

"Coffee, couches, and the Word."

In three words, my good friend Andrew summed up the experience we all had on Sunday morning at a small, casual church here in Canton. He joined Hannah and I on our journey this weekend, a journey which led us to this relevant, hip, yet personal gathering of believers. Assembling in the renovated end of a seemingly dilapidated strip mall, the congregation of Ekklesia can be summed up in one word: Real.

They like coffee, so they have it brewing from the time they get there to practice until the time the service is over and beyond. It doesn't get put away after the morning "meet-n-greet" time, because he morning is filled with meeting, greeting, and enjoying one another's company in the presence of the Living God. 

Prior to Sunday, I had only ever attended one other church (in downtown Los Angeles) where sitting on a couch for the duration of a worship service was not merely acceptable, it was encouraged. Comfy couches and several arm chairs lined the walls of the small, one-room church facility, where its 25-30 member congregation was able to relax, be open and real with one another and listen to teaching from The Word."

Pastor James spent the morning's teaching hour walking through part of Matthew 5, Christ's Sermon on the Mount. Throughout verses 21 to 48, Christ challenges old ways of thinking and presents the truth from the principle of the Law; "You have heard it said... But I tell you..." Christ wasn't interested in external behavior; He wants our hearts to be full of love, purity, integrity, submission and grace. 

I can't help but draw the parallel between the passage chosen for this past Sunday and my own first impressions of Ekklesia. Often times, and I say this hesitantly, knowing that it's not a blanket, across-the-board statement, our churches become a breeding ground for external behavioral modification. We want to be sure our clothes are acceptable, our music is just right, our facilities are contemporary, etc. But do we miss the heart of what Church, of what ekklesia was intended to look like? Ekklesia is an actively challenging people, both in word and deed, to return to the heart of the issue, to know God deeply, to be changed from the inside out. While Ekklesia is marketed for "those who've given up on church," and could be misunderstood at a first glance, it's real. It's genuine. It's authentic. 

Anyone up for a relaxing, welcoming environment of coffee, couches, and the Word would find Ekklesia refreshing and uplifting. For more information on Ekklesia, see their website here.

Worship in Simplicity, Beauty

Tonal chants of "Our Father" floated like strings of incense throughout the high rafters of All Saints Anglican Church tonight, as close to 100 people gathered in a borrowed sanctuary where the leaders of a small local church plant led us in a Candlemas service.

Candlemas is a term used in the Anglican tradition for the "Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple," or the Feast of the Purification of the Saint Mary the Virgin."* Having begun with a candle-lighting across the entire sanctuary, the service progressed into a liturgy dating back to the 16th century, accompanied by music from the time written by Thomas Tallis for the royal court and performed tonight by the Malone University Chamber Choir, under the direction of Dr. David Donelson.

After the decalogue (a chant of the Ten Commandments, each succeeded by the phrase, "Lord have mercy on us and incline our hearts to keep this law"), we heard from the Word of God. A priest read from the Gospel of Luke about the encounter Mary and Joseph had at the temple when a man named Simeon saw them and immediately knew that this beautiful baby boy was the Messiah, Immanuel, God Incarnate with us. The homily, delivered by Father Brian M. Chase, called us all to reflect upon the beauty around us; each element of such beauty in creation, art, music, and otherwise is reflective of God's presence in our lives. Beauty is not the end in itself, but it points to, as does the beauty of the liturgy itself, the Creator of all beauty, Beauty Himself Incarnate, God Almighty.

Albeit an impromptu contribution to this fifteen week journey, tonight's Candlemas service gave Hannah and I an intriguing experience in simple worship of Jesus Christ. We don't often get to enjoy the simplicity of worship in this manner and came away refreshed by the beauty of true sanctity. The pleasant stimulation of the senses by candlelight and incense, along with the brilliantly presented worship experience by the Chamber Choir, complemented Father Brian's homily gracefully.

Take time this weekend to worship God through acknowledging him as the Creator, the Source of the beauty all around us.

*This definition is taken directly from the program I received upon entering the service tonight.

Church-Planting to the power of God

The concept of church-planting has been on my mind all week. After hearing a pastor express his calling to plant four churches in the Canton area, and looking around the room at the sub-40-member congregation, my entire perception of planting a church has been rocked.

My friend and colleague, Jason, and I were talking about church-planting the other day. He is a member of a 1000+member church near Akron, and has been commissioned by this body of believers to help lead a portion of them (200, give or take) down here to Canton where they hope to plant a new church, which I think is absolutely wonderful, and had I not felt called this semester to proceed with this blog, I probably would have done what I can to get involved and strive alongside him.

I read and listen to sermons and hear people talking about church-planting in similar ways: "We have enough people now to start a new church!" Or, "When we reach xxx number of members/regular attenders, we'll begin praying about planting a new church." Or, "We've outgrown our current facility, and are thus going to plant a new church in this or that city." Granted, these examples do not encompass all, or even the majority of church-planters and their various perspectives. I didn't do a survey to figure out the actual percentages of these mindsets. Nonetheless, I think we can all relate to them in some way. 

Let's think about the other side of that same coin: "We can't afford to plant a church. We missed our budget by x% as it is!" Or, "We hardly fill the building we're in now, so why would we try to plant a church?" (Again, no survey, but can't we all level with this line of thinking to some degree?)

Don't get me wrong. I don't mean to imply that these perspectives on church-planting are in any way wrong, I just wonder how complete they are. They seem to be reactional, subject to circumstances and situations that may or may not arise. And while God is able to do immeasurably more than our wildest imagination, he also expects and requires us to be good stewards of the resources we're given.

That said, what do you think our God, with his unlimited resources and power, with his providence and immutability, could do through a tiny parcel of believers completely committed to becoming a church-plant? What if, instead of reacting to circumstances, we proactively, and radically stepped out in faith, even if it seems crazy or ill-advised? The very idea of 'church-planting' is of human origin as it is. What if, say, five people, being called by God, decided to forsake all and entirely commit to the idea of 'making disciples' (Christ's divine term, which some might refer to as 'church-planting)? What if Living Hope Church sent two families into their respective neighborhoods to begin house churches with their neighbors? What if these grew to ten, or twenty apiece, over the course of two or three months? And then came together to celebrate with the mother church? The original congregation has doubled!

Now what if my friend Jason, and his 200-ish member church-plant adopted this small church's mentality of church-planting and decided to send their 50-ish families to their own homes, their neighborhoods, and each grew from four to twenty in a matter of six months? And then each mini-church of 20 broke off and began, say, two apiece, and worked toward making disciples and growing together in authentic, sacrificial community, and each of THOSE church grew to twenty people in six more months?

...I gotta get my calculator...

In six months that 200 member church is at 1000 or more, and after one year of committed growth, maturity and disciple-making the 200 has increased by a factor of ten! (That is, assuming my math checks out; either way it's mind-boggling, which further's my point.)

Hold your horses, there, Serafino. It's not all about the numbers. 

Exactly. And those hypotheticals weren't number-oriented, they were possibility-oriented. Instead of seeing the numbers, see what God COULD do if we'd really let him.

Could God plant a church through my wife and I? In this small upstairs apartment in northeast Canton? Could that little church double, triple, grow exponentially?

Could God use you in the same way? 

Living Hope.. literally.

I'm not sure if many of you noticed, but I made a gametime schedule change Sunday morning. My dear wife woke up sick with what turned out to be a day bug of some sort, and since she was truly looking forward to seeing St. Haralambos, I made the executive decision to switch it with another church on the schedule. 



Some of the churches on my schedule raise preconceived notions within me, whether it be regarding the music, style of worship, the people, the building, etc. Driving to Living Hope Church of the Christian & Missionary Alliance, I was utterly impression-less as to what I might experience. There are several C&MA churches in the area, and many of my peers at school have mentioned them once or twice, but I had no idea what to expect.

The two-room white building that stood at the far end of a gravel parking, though quaint, housed a small congregation more filled with living hope than many churches I've attended, big or small. Walking to the front door, I noticed that through the four large windows spaced down the front of the building, I was looking into the sanctuary, and could simultaneously see a majority of the congregation. Upon entry, I smiled, accepted the "Welcome to Living Hope" and the perfectly folded bulletin and made my way to the far end of the room to find a seat near the back. Before my coat was on the back of my chair, the pastor approached me, introducing himself and personally welcomed me to Living Hope. His wife soon followed and we chatted for several minutes as the 6-member worship team—which made up a sixth of the congregation—meandered toward the stage to begin the morning's service. 

The juxtaposition of the old upright piano on the right hand side of the stage with the digital projector on the left spoke of simpler times in the not-too-distant past of the local church. I wondered how long Living Hope had been using a digital projector, because it has been within my lifetime that many churches I know have gone from navigating overhead projector slides to the novelties of the digital age. The aesthetics were mirrored by the song selection of the morning: An acoustic version of "Holy, Holy, Holy" followed the contemporary praise chorus "You are Holy," both entirely absent of lighting effects or graphic backgrounds on the projector, marked off the beautiful liminal space through which many churches have already traversed into the modern age. But this liminality, this time of transition, of change, of evolution, though often marked with awkwardness and growing pains, is essential to the continued growth of any entity, especially to a body of believers. It's within these spaces of change that God can really fill us and show exactly who we are, in Him, who He is, in us, and what He wants us to do in light of it.

Indeed, God is moving amidst the vulnerability of liminal space to send this little church, filled with living hope, in an entirely new and wild direction.

Apparently, the Sunday before, the pastor had done some vision casting, and though I wish I could have been there for such an exciting time in a church's life, I was equally as excited to hear how passionately and confidently he spoke of the direction in which God was calling him, and the church. He mentioned how seemingly crazy it is for them as, "a little church with no money, no people, no how," to be called to plant and raise up four churches in the area. This unimaginable goal of a congregation no larger than thirty-five people,—many of them teenagers and children—though seemingly unattainable, is precisely the kind of goal that a church—whose heart beats with living hope—can strive to accomplish, through "Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine" (Eph. 3:20), and to Him be glory in the church, in Living Hope, and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations worshiping him simultaneously as one body, for ever and ever!

That is the living hope to which we were called.

I appreciate everyone who took the time to read this week's exploration of one local body of believers, Bethel Temple Assembly, and get involved, whether actively or simply in your own personal thought and reflection, in the discussion on certain spiritual gifts.

The message of "Every Person Matters to God" serves as an ongoing reminder to the body of believers to never forget the extent of God's grace. Grace is not just given to the sinner for the forgiveness of sins, but to the sojourner, for the continual repentance and turning from one's sins, over and over, day after day, as we struggle through the issues in this world.

God gives us, and everyone around us, the grace to change our lives. Change is sometimes a welcome friends, and other times change is rejected as the bane of one's existence. Change means something different, and often different is fearsome. But different is not always a terrible thing and I hope that this weeks discussion on the various perspectives on the spiritual gift of speaking in tongues speaks to this. I want to strongly encourage all of us, whether from a traditional, cessationalist upbringing, or from a Pentecostal persuasion, to understand this one thing: We are not enemies. We are the body of Christ. And each part fills a different role in that body, which is beautiful. There are no black sheep in the family of God.

So here, as the week draws to a close, and a new church Sunday morning will bring new insight into the mystery and beauty of the church, we recognize another difference defining this part of the body of Christ, and we celebrate in the unity that Jesus Christ is God, our Savior, who died and rose again, conquering death, and allowing you and I the opportunity to find a new life, one of abundance and diversity among the nations and peoples of the world. Amen.

Let's Talk About Tongues:

For those of you who may not know me, I'm not necessarily one to sidestep confrontation.  Though I don't enjoy arousing frustration or animosity in my fellow brothers and sisters, I'm not too timid to bring a potentially controversial issue to the foreground.

So here we go. Remember that whole disclaimer I posted a couple of weeks ago about how to disagree with me, discuss issues throughout the course of this journey, and interact on this blog? This is why I said that.

I have always had an aversion to the concept of the gifts of tongues, be that the speaking or interpretation thereof, in a modern setting. This predisposition most likely came from the doctrines in which I was immersed growing up, from which most of our cognitive predispositions tend to come (hence the term, pre-disposition).

In recent years, however, I have opened my mind to the modern day acquisition of said spiritual gifts. It is, in fact, stated plainly in Scripture, in 1 Corinthians 12, for instance, that the same Spirit distributes many kinds of gifts, including the standard gifts of wisdom, knowledge, faith, as well as the, shall we say, less-palatable ones, such as miraculous signs or speaking in and interpreting tongues. The apostle Paul is speaking to a specific audience, the church at Corinth, for a specific reason, and we must keep that in mind when interpreting any part of Scripture. 

Nonetheless, I have personally come to a point of acceptance of the modern day use and interpretation of various tongues, to some extent. First and foremost, I believe Scripture makes it clear that these gifts are only to be used in tandem, and not to be spouted off carelessly in an emotionally-charged rant. First Corinthians 14:27 states plainly that "one must interpret." When this is the case, I believe these gifts can be used to edify and build up the body of Christ, in the same way that a preacher believes that he is expounding the Word of God via the Holy Spirit from the pulpit to the congregation on a weekly basis (it's okay, go back and re-read that sentence, taking time to follow the prepositional labyrinth).

I spent some time reading over the Assemblies of God website, their core beliefs and doctrinal statements, and was quite surprised to find how much my own personal beliefs coincide with those I read. Again, for some reason I'd been under the impression that the A.G. beliefs were far more eccentric than they turn out to be. Their Beliefs Page states plainly a wide range of fundamental beliefs, and I can align personally with most of them. The one that sits a little uneasily within me is #8. As a building block upon #7, I can agree that all believers have access to should seek the baptism of the Holy Spirit, that being a life entirely submersed in the Spirit, aligned entirely under the will of God, and with that will naturally come:

• an overflowing fullness of the Spirit, John 7:37-39 [KJV/NIV], Acts 4:8 [KJV/NIV]
• a deepened reverence for God, Acts 2:43 [KJV/NIV], Hebrews 12:28 [KJV/NIV]
• an intensified consecration to God and dedication to His work, Acts 2:42 [KJV/NIV]
• and a more active love for Christ, for His Word and for the lost, Mark 16:20 [KJV/NIV)*

However, if you scroll down to #8, I can completely understand why some more conservative evangelicals take issue with the extent to which tongues is emphasized. This section explicitly states:

The baptism of believers in the Holy Spirit is witnessed by the initial physical sign of speaking with other tongues as the Spirit of God gives them utterance.

A basic definition of baptism would be defined simply as a rite of admission into a larger body or congregation. The wording of the above statement of belief implies that one is not admitted entirely into a life indwelt by the Holy Spirit until he/she speaks in tongues. Another way to word this would be that I don't have the whole Holy Spirit until I speak in tongues. Right? Did I just make too big of a jump?

Some of you clearly have more knowledge and experience within Pentecostal congregations and beliefs. Help me out here. Why is speaking in tongues so idolized? Why is it set on so high a pedestal? Will I not understand until I get there? I've never spoken in tongues. Does that make me less indwelt by the Holy Spirit than those who have? I've never even seen it. Does that make all of the pastors and elders and worshipers at all of the churches I've attended in my 23 years of life less filled with the Holy Spirit than those in a more Pentecostal congregation who have?

On the other end of the discussion, however, would be my questions posed to the more conservative who get a tingle down their spine whenever someone talks about speaking in tongues. Why does it offend you (and I, for many years) so much? Why are these kinds of spiritual gifts downplayed or viewed as illegitimate? What causes the dissension? Why is it any less legitimate for a sermon to be preached and interjected with the interpretation of spoken tongues than it is for a sermon to be preached without? Can both be equally as Spirit-filled?

These are simply questions, thoughts, ruminations for discussion and for feedback. These are not meant to spark a fire or pick a fight, and I would like to reiterate again for the sake of emphasis that I read over the entire page of beliefs which is hyperlinked a few paragraphs up and I align with the majority of them. I would also like to refer you to my previous post, and remind you to look forward to more posts about Bethel Temple Assembly and how wonderful of an experience I had there. They are most certainly doing the work of God and furthering the Kingdom here in Canton.

*See: http://ag.org/top/Beliefs/Statement_of_Fundamental_Truths/sft_full.cfm#8