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!