Robb Ryerse's Blog, page 6

My Sunday Visit to a Fundamentalist Church

I am halfway through my two-month pastoral sabbatical, and people keep asking me how it is going and what I have learned. The answers I keep giving are that it is going well and that I don’t know what I have learned yet. I miss seeing my friends on Sunday mornings, but it would be inaccurate to say that I have missed all that I used to do on Sunday mornings. Maybe that will come in a few weeks. Maybe not. We shall see.

When I began the pastoral sabbatical, I decided to take July off from church altogether and to use Sundays in August to visit other churches. The purpose of these other visits is not necessarily to hunt for new ideas or to scope out the competition. Instead, I’ve simply been curious about some churches in the area. I am visiting them to  satisfy my curiosity. Since I wouldn’t normally have the opportunity to do so, I figured this August, during my sabbatical, would be as good a time as any.

So, on Sunday morning, I dropped Vanessa and Calvin off at Vintage (the girls slept in), and I headed off by myself to a church in northwest Arkansas that is a part of the denomination that I left when we moved here to start Vintage. 

I’m not exactly sure why I was drawn to this particular fundamentalist church. Maybe I wanted to see if I still had some connection to what I had left behind. In my book Fundamorphosis: How I Left Fundamentalism But Didn’t Lose My Faith, I wrote pretty forcefully about my past church experiences. Maybe I wanted to make sure I hadn’t created any strawmen. Maybe I just wanted to see if I have made a mistake.

Bottom line – I haven’t.

First off, let me say this, I was greeted warmly when I arrived. People seemed genuinely glad that I was there. I was a little nervous about attending a small, local congregation since I have been featured in the local paper a few times and write a periodic column. One old lady told me that my face looked very familiar, but I just chuckled and said, “I don’t know.” What impressed me most was how people remembered my name. Those who greeted me multiple times, including the pastor, always used my name during the second conversation. That was impressive. 

I did get a chuckle out of an elderly usher trying desperately to find a visitor’s card to give me to fill out. I wasn’t sure if he gave me the impression that so many visitors stop by that they had run out or that visitors were so rare that they didn’t know where the guest cards were kept. Eventually, he found one. I didn’t fill it out. I’m not a good person.

What was much less welcoming was the service itself. An order of service was printed in the bulletin but was not followed. That was strange to me. The music was led by an eight-person bluegrass band. One song was from the hymnal. The other six or seven were not. They were not oriented toward congregation participation. They included rather awkward times of chatter between band members between the songs. And they were bluegrass. Not my favorite.

The service also featured a time of singing “Happy Birthday” to members of the congregation. Not my favorite.

And a “shake hands with someone around you” time that lasted seven minutes, six and half of which I spent all alone at the end of my pew. Not my favorite.

When the pastor took to the pulpit, I was ready for the sermon. He preached from the King James Version of the Bible. It was a topical sermon about the power of one person in God’s economy. It wasn’t the least bit exegetical or conscious of biblical context. But it was earnest and certainly not the worst sermon through which I have ever sat.

There were several points at which the sermon could have easily swerved into a mean-spirited diatribe about President Obama or the moral decline of the country or the emergent church or evolutionary science. All of those punches were telegraphed. Thankfully, none of them were thrown.

Instead, the pastor stayed true to his theme that one person who is available and bold can make a huge difference in the world. Jesus himself is the ultimate case in point. No argument out of me on that.

WIthout a doubt, the thing that bothered me most about the sermon was an illustration that the pastor used about a University of Southern California professor who sought in his classes to disprove the existence of God. As the story goes, one Christian student rose to his feet in defense of his faith. In a final act of persuasion, the professor was going to drop his piece of chalk, claiming that if God were all powerful, he could keep the chalk from shattering when it hit the floor. When he went to drop the chalk, the professor accidentally dropped it down his shirt sleeve, after which it made its way on an impossible journey down his pant leg, where it rolled onto the floor unbroken. The professor left in a huff, and the student spent the next thirty minutes telling his classmates about Jesus.

The story sounded to me like one of those hackneyed email forwards that eventually ends up on Facebook. But the pastor kept insisting that it was a verified, true story. Undeniable evidence of both God and the importance of boldness in the face of evil atheists. His insistence drove me to me to google it up on my google machine while he was telling the story. Sure enough, there’s a snopes.com entry about it. Not true. Respect lost.

The sermon and service ended, predictably, with several verses of Just As I Am and an altar call that felt directed at the first time visitor sitting in the second pew to the back.

I didn’t go forward.

And I’m not going back to fundamentalism.

 

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Book Review: The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning

I first read The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning in 1995. I was a junior in Bible college, and this book was like a long cold drink on a hot summer day. In a culture that was full of legalism and religious competition, the message of The Ragamuffin Gospel sounded like something so simple that it had to be amazingly revolutionary:

God just loves us. I mean, really loves us. We don’t have to earn our way into God’s graces. Grace, in fact, is what life is all about. Our failures and pains are all swept up into and consumed by the furious love of God.

This message was reinforced by Brennan Manning’s own story. He was an improbable Evangelical hero – a Catholic priest who had been defrocked when he married. A raging alcoholic who wrote openly about it and his attempts at recovery. (Here is my review of Manning’s memoir, All Is Grace.)

When you read The Ragamuffin Gospel, you get the sense that Manning is writing about the furious love of God because he believes it. You also get the sense that he believes it because if he didn’t, his life would spiral hopelessly out of control.

 

The Ragamuffin Gospel was truly revolutionary for me. Formative, really. Coupled with What’s So Amazing About Grace? by Philip Yancey, this book created the lenses through which I see and understand God and God’s love. As I reread it 18 years later, I was blown away by how much my thinking and theology have been shaped by this book. Themes that I preach on, write about, talk about, and try to instill my kids are on every page:

Honesty and humility are essential components of faith
Authenticity is required in our relationships with God and each other
Grace is what life is about

It was also interesting to reread my own 18-year-old copy of the book. Its cover is tattered and its pages are filled with the comments, markings, and underlinings of my first time through the book. It was amusing to see what was important to me the first time. And to see how that has changed a bit.

 

Compared to the early chapters, there aren’t as many of my 18-year-old markings in the last couple of chapters of The Ragamuffin Gospel. Those chapters didn’t resonate with me as much when I was 20. But now that I am 38, they have become my favorite chapters in the book.

Near the end of the book, Manning talks about how it is not uncommon for Christians between the ages of 30 and 60 to receive what he names a “second call” from Jesus. This “second call” is akin to a spiritual midlife crisis. After many years of following Jesus and seeking to live by the grace of God, this second call is an invitation to go deeper, to do more, to be more.

I have experienced this second call. Vintage Fellowship is the fruit of it. I hit 30 years old and had the sense that the love and grace of God was compelling me to do something new and different and risky and real.

Which was why it was so interesting that the follow-up chapter in The Ragamuffin Gospel  to the one about the second call was about faithfulness. It was almost as if Manning was saying that living according to this second call is going to be more difficult than anything you did in the first half of your life. You’re going to be tempted to give up and cash in. But don’t. The grace of God that started you on this crazy path will sustain you during the crazy days.

As I reread these chapters, it was the deeply inspiring and comforting words of Eugene Peterson that came to mind. “A long obedience in the same direction.” That is what the grace of God allows for me, and that is what I want my life to be about.

 

I don’t know how much more succinctly I could put this. I don’t normally make statements like I am about to.

If you haven’t read The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning, you need to. And if you have read The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning, you need to read it again.

 

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Facing God: Family Dog’s Death Teaches about Love

Here is my column that appeared in Saturday’s Northwest Arkansas Times:

 

A few weeks ago, we had to do what other families have faced, but it was a first for us. We had to put down our family dog. Her name was Sydney, a border collie and yellow lab mix. She was nine and a half years old. And a member of our family.  

We got Sydney when we lived in Michigan. My wife and I went into a pet store to look at turtles and ended up with a puppy. I don’t, by the way, recommend getting puppies at pet stores; there are so many shelter dogs that need good and kind homes. But you know what happens when something steals your heart and you end up doing something you don’t normally do? That’s what happened to us that day. Sydney stole Vanessa’s heart, and we went home with a dog instead of a turtle.

I wish I could say that Sydney was the ideal dog, the perfect picture of obedience and reliability. She simply wasn’t. She wasn’t a bad dog necessarily, but she also wasn’t a particularly good dog.

Though she loved our children, she couldn’t tolerate the neighborhood kids. Though she seemed to understand every word we said, she refused to learn commands or tricks. Though she loved riding in the car, she would often do things to make us not want to take her for rides. Like jump out the window at a stop sign. (If you ever saw a guy in Springdale abandon his car at the corner and chase a blonde dog through people’s yards, it might have been me.)

Sydney was a not a saccharine sweet dog. Her personality was kind of sarcastic, and for that reason she fit right in with the rest of us. She was a part of our family, and we loved her, orneriness and all.

A few months ago, Sydney began to slow down. We noticed that she wasn’t playing very much with our other dog. She wasn’t eating much either. When we took her to the vet, our worst fears were confirmed. Sydney was in kidney failure, most likely from a tumor.

After some long discussions and restless nights, we made the hard decision. A couple of days later, we took her back to the vet’s office for what had to be done.

The few weeks since that day haven’t been easy. There have been many tears shed in our home, many stories told, and many wistful moments of expecting Sydney to be there only to remember that she is not. Whenever our youngest daughter prays before dinner, she asks God to keep Sydney safe. It still tugs at my heart.

Nonetheless, there are a couple of lessons that losing our family dog has taught us.

First, life is a series of seasons. Some are happy and full of joy. Others are sad. Some seasons feel like they will last forever, and others are over before we can blink. The passing of a dog reminds us that nothing lasts forever. We had seasons of laughter and enjoyment with our friend. And now we are in a season of sadness and mourning.

This is life. We are using this opportunity to teach our kids and remind ourselves that we need to experience the seasons for what they are. Don’t fear the darkness, and don’t hide the sadness. Feel it. Mourn. Cry. But also, don’t miss the sunshine. Relax and enjoy it.

We’ve also learned a lot about love through this experience. The unconditional love of a dog for its master has become rather cliche. But maybe the stereotype is rooted in truth. Sydney didn’t demand anything from us. She didn’t require us to do anything to earn her affection and loyalty. We were her people. She simply wanted to be with us. In fact, her favorite times were when we stopped working and simply sat so that she could come over to us to be petted.

In this imagery is a picture, I think, of God. God simply loves us, simply wants to be with us. God doesn’t require us to earn divine love. God just wants us to stop working and be still. That’s what love is.

In the scrapbook of my mind, there are several clear images of pure love that I have experienced. There’s my encounter with Jesus that changed my life. There’s the day Vanessa walked down the aisle and said, “I do.” There are the arrivals of each of my children into our family.

Alongside these pictures, I’ve added one of Sydney, standing next to me waiting for me to pet her. She was our dog. And we loved her.

 

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Hi. I’m Robb. And I May Have Had a Nervous Breakdown.

About ten days ago, I just about had a nervous breakdown.

I’ve written before that I’ve suffered through a few panic attacks in my life. It’s a not a fun experience. I’ve been able to reduce a lot of the anxiety that led to those panic attacks by eliminating most caffeine from my diet. I now drink a lot less coffee, and most of the coffee I do drink now is either half-caf or decaf.

But what I experienced on that Friday morning had nothing to do with how much coffee I drank. ”Nervous breakdown” are about the best words I can use to describe it.

Now, I understand that the term “nervous breakdown” is a non-technical one. It’s a little bit like saying that you “put your back out.” It describes what happened but not necessarily the medical or technical reality. I’m not a mental health expert – obviously – so I don’t have the exact words to describe what happened. I suppose that “nervous breakdown” is as good a term as any.

 

This episode had been building for a long time. Honestly, I’ve known for a couple of years that I haven’t been dealing with my emotions well. I’ve made some changes in my life – trying to eat better, exercise, taking breaks from Facebook, for example. But, as it turns out, those have been small bandaids on a gaping wound.

Sensing how frazzled I’ve become, a couple of months ago, I asked the Vintage Oversight Team for a break. I need a sabbatical to rest. That sabbatical started yesterday.

Further, Vanessa and I started seeing a therapist. We’ve gone a few times now, and it is very nice to have someone to talk to who won’t be freaked out about what you have to say. I don’t have to guard my words at all when talking with him or wonder if I am overburdening him with my stuff. He’s given us some helpful insights so far, and we’re hopeful that therapy will really be a long-term solution to some of my struggles.

But none of this was able to prevent what went down.

 

In short, it felt like my whole world was blowing apart. The sensation I had was that everything was fragmenting and flying in different directions. It’s like I could see bits and pieces of my life as they hurtled away from each other – and from me. It was an unsettling feeling. I wanted to reach out and grasp everything and hold it together. But I couldn’t. It all was just blowing apart.

On that Friday morning, I was so overcome by this feeling that I couldn’t function. All I could do was weep.

It felt like all of the things in my life that are most important, all of the things that matter to me, all of the things that I worry about on a daily basis, all became uncertain all at once. My marriage, my family, my church, my work, my relationships. All of it. Everything. Uncertain. At the same time.

 

And so, on that Friday morning, in the midst of our small fight about something else, I told Vanessa what was really bothering me, some news I had been carrying around for a few days and hadn’t shared with her. I had told myself that I didn’t want to freak her out. In reality, I didn’t want to freak myself by saying the news out loud.

The revelation uncorked a flood of emotion that left me deeply shaken.

Several days later, with the support of a kind and gracious wife, some very caring friends, and the wise words of a counselor, I am feeling a lot better. I have the sense that things are going to get better. And, because of my sabbatical, I’ve got some extra time and space to invest in some much needed soul care.

Still, it’s a strange thing to experience a breakdown like this, maybe even more-so as a pastor. Later this week, I’ll blog about how I’ve been processing all of this in light of my pastoral ministry.

 

In the meantime, how about you? Have you ever had a “nervous breakdown?” How did you get through it?

 

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I’m Taking the Summer Off: My Pastoral Sabbatical

A few months ago, I shared with the Vintage Oversight Team how tired and worn-out I have been. The combination of my day job and my work with Vintage, not to mention being a husband, dad, and writer, has left me raw and ragged. I shared with the team that I really wanted to take a pastoral sabbatical, but that they would have to figure it out for me, because I didn’t have the energy to make it happen.

We are now several weeks later, and I have preached my final sermon of the summer. I am on sabbatical. As I joked with the Vintage folks yesterday, I am taking the summer off so that they don’t have to.

I’ve never taken a pastoral sabbatical before. I have taken breaks from preaching. But this is different. I am not responsible for anything regarding the worship gatherings of Vintage. I am taking my hands off the wheel. I am stepping off the stage and away from the microphone.

In my absence, the Oversight Team and a pastor providentially placed in our community, Jeff Miller, will provide leadership and voice. I am grateful for them and know that Vintage is in great hands.

 

I’ll be honest with you, this sabbatical almost didn’t happen. The building fiasco that we faced at the end of June threw all of our plans into a tizzy. There are a lot of things that I can walk away from, but the community being in limbo about where it is going to meet just isn’t one of them. Our new and temporary space has been a godsend, allowing us to continue to meet without interruption and allowing me to step away without guilt.

During the summer months, I’ll still be involved in what’s happening with Vintage. I’ll be going to our community-building events throughout the summer. I’ll be looking at buildings and having conversations with the Oversight Team. I’ll be working on a new website for the church. But I won’t be preaching or doing any pastoral care. This is a time for me to be quiet and to do some self-care.

 

I’ll be honest with you about this too, this sabbatical really needs to happen. June sucked. If I was running on fumes in May, I am completely out of gas now. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, I am drained. In the past six weeks, Vanessa and I had some of the biggest fights we have ever had. We started to see a therapist to help us work through our shit. I came very close to having a nervous breakdown. We had to have our dog of nearly ten years put down. It has felt like everything is blowing apart.

And I haven’t been able to cope with it all real well. I’ve been discouraged, short-tempered, and cold. I need a long rest to recapture a better sense of who I am. So that’s what I am doing.

 

I won’t be preaching at Vintage. I don’t think I’ll even be attending Vintage, definitely in July and probably not in August either.

What will I be doing on my pastoral sabbatical? Some of it is figured out, and some of it is still being discussed.

Part of it will be spent on vacation, in the glorious slice of heaven known as Long Point Provincial Park in Ontario Canada. Part of it will be spent reading. A reread of The Ragamuffin Gospel is already on the list. Part of it may be spent visiting some other churches. Overall, I’ll be resting, thinking, working on getting better, recharging my batteries so that I can be the best version of myself when September rolls around.

Have any of you ever taken a sabbatical? Is there any advice you’d like to share?

 

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Vintage Fellowship Is Moving … Across the Parking Lot … For Now

 

Semi-Big Announcement for Our Church:

Vintage Fellowship Is Moving … Across the Parking Lot … For Now

 

We have to vacate our current facilities, but – at least initially – we won’t be moving far. In fact, we are going to be moving across the parking lot into an empty spot in the Scott Plaza right next door to where our children’s ministry meets.

I’ll be honest with you – the space we are moving into is smaller and uglier than our current location. It’s not what we are ultimately looking for. For some of us who left our blood, sweat, and tears in our current building, this reality is a little disheartening. There will be some sadness in saying goodbye to the tiles we laid and the place that has served as our church home for five years.

 

But nonetheless, we know that there are greater things ahead for us. And we think that this is a good solution. Here’s why:

This is a good immediate solution.

Finding and moving into a new location takes time. We don’t have time. The clock is ticking on us having to vacate our current facilities. Moving across the parking lot buys us the time to look for, pray for, and plan for the best possible place for us to meet in the future.

This is a good financial solution.

The rent in the new space we are moving into is cheaper than our current rent. And, if we move in by the end of June, we can get July’s rent free. So, it just makes sense for us to jump at this opportunity.

This is a good short-term solution.

The new place is smaller. It doesn’t have a kitchen. It has lower ceilings. The nursery will have to share the children’s ministry space. There is only one bathroom. It’s more functional than beautiful. But, all these negatives add up to one big positive – we won’t want to stay in our new space for long. It’s not the kind of place that is going to lull us into complacency. Each week, we’ll be motivated afresh to keep praying, to keep looking, to keep giving for the new location.

 

So, Sunday is moving day. Following our worship gathering on Sunday, we are going to order some pizzas and ask everybody to grab a chair or a tote or a mic stand and lug it across the parking lot. We’ll have a lot to do – setting up the nursery in the children’s ministry, reassembling the sound and video equipment, getting all of our stuff moved over. And so, we’ll need a lot of help. If you’re in town this weekend, we would really appreciate the help.

And, big thanks to the Vintage Oversight Team. They have provided such confident, level-headed leadership throughout this past hectic week. The wisdom they have demonstrated already is just further evidence that they will ably lead us to our next home.

 

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The Church Is Not a Building

The church is the people, not the building.

I said these words to some friends last night, and I almost choked on them. It’s such a cliche, such trite Christianese. Which is not to say that this statement is not true. It’s just kind of tired.

When we say these words, we are trying to express the fact that there is something more to the Christian community than the gatherings and programs that take place within the building that the church occupies. Christian community is about relationships, sharing, and love, not carpet color, pews, and upkeep.

When Vintage stopped being mobile and started meeting in its own space a few years ago, I disciplined myself to not refer to the building as “Vintage.” I didn’t want through my language to subtly reinforce the building-equals-church mentality. When referring to the space in which we meet, I always say “the Vintage building.” It’s my own small protest against the culture that made a phrase like “the church is the people, not the building” necessary.

 

But the reality is, for many people, the epicenter of Christian community is the church building. And that’s why “church” and “church building” have become synonymous terms.

While I don’t think this is a good thing, I do understand it. Cultures are hard to change. Ways of thinking are slow to be transformed. And, sometimes, situations can form this kind of mindset.

For instance, I once pastored a church that deeply identified with its building. And with good reason. A few years before I arrived, the church had ventured out in faith to buy land, sell its old, limited building, and build a new multipurpose space in a growing part of town. The people of the church had spent their their money, time, and efforts in erecting that building.

And they had done a great job.

When I got there, they were still telling and retelling the stories of the building’s construction. Among other tales, I heard again and again about how the former pastor’s wife had been up on the roof laying shingles. They were proud of what they had done. And with good reason.

However, the building had taken its toll. I don’t think they realized it, but the dear folks at that church were exhausted. They had spent so much of their resources and energy putting up that building that they didn’t have much left for other things. They wanted to sit back and enjoy what they had done, which was a good and natural reaction. They needed to rest, which was completely appropriate.

After spending several years with them, I came to realize that the vision they had for their community was obscured by the building project. Whether or not they verbalized it, I think they believed that building a new building would equal church growth. They pushed all their chips into the center of that table and didn’t have anything left when it came to the hard work of filling their new building with people from their neighborhoods.

“Build it and they will come” works in movies, but not necessarily in churches.

 

Church buildings have a way of dominating and defining the life of a church community. They can shape us. They can refocus us. They can exhaust and drain us. And that is why we say things like “the church is not a building; it’s the people.” Which is easier to say when you have a building. The reality is, the people of the church have to meet somewhere. As long as we are still gathering as a congregation, we’ve got to have a building in which to put people.

 

As Vintage Fellowship looks for a new meeting place, we are having all sorts of conversations about the kind of building we want to occupy. Many of us have spent time driving around Northwest Arkansas, peering into windows, and collecting phone numbers of realtors. We’ve debated the pros and cons of different locations. We’ve drooled over amazing places that are way out of our price range. And we’ve felt the tinges of building envy whenever we’ve driven past (or served a funeral dinner in) another church building.

The search for a new building is a balancing act of emotions and expectations. You can’t get attached to the idea of a particular space too quickly or too deeply. You may soon find out its price or that it is already under contract. The repeated disappointment can lead to despair.

I’ve been having my moments of despair about our building situation. But in my heart, I believe this is a good and healthy thing for our community. We need to move. We want to move.

 

And so, hoping against hope, in addition to things like affordability, size, location, and usability, when we dream of a Vintage building, here is part of our dream:

We want a beautiful space.

Ugly sucks. We are a community of artists and wanna-be artists. We think that beauty brings us closer to God, helps us to see the world better, and lifts our spirits. Certainly, we can worship God anywhere. But we want to do it someplace that inspires us.

We want a community space.

We are so over the idea of a building sitting empty six days a week. We want to provide affordable offices for local non-profits. We want to host art shows. We want to be a part of our neighborhood.

We want a serving space.

We want a building that will meet our needs rather than a building that forces us to meet its needs. We want to be able to center our resources – focus, energy, and money – on people. Because, after all, the church is the people, not the building, right?

 

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Vintage Fellowship Is On the Move

I received a phone call on Friday from the realtor that represents the landlord of the building that our church, Vintage Fellowship, meets in. He told me that the parole office next door to us needs to expand – a somewhat disconcerting thought. And, their expansion means that we are losing our meeting space – an even more disconcerting thought.

We have 30 days to move out. 

Maybe you’re thinking, “What about your lease?” Well, that’s a good question. We have known for a while that we need a new meeting place. Our Oversight Team spent a long time looking a year ago. When our lease was up in September, we decided to go with a six month lease in hopes of finding a new meeting place soon. We didn’t. And when the lease was up, our landlord didn’t ask us to renew, and it didn’t show up on our radar to renew it. So, for a while now, we’ve been month-to-month. That’s why our landlord only has to give us 30 days notice.

I arrived on Sunday morning to the formal eviction notice taped to the door. I knew it was coming, but it still was unsettling.

 

As I process all of this news, I can’t help but think that God is up to something with Vintage.

As I mentioned, we have known for a while that we need to move.

There is a principle in church life called the 80% rule. If you are 80% full, you are full. We’ve been operating at more than 80% full for a couple of years now. We are full. And the reality is, when you are full, it is likely that you won’t grow much more. It’s a little bit like how a fish grows to the size of its bowl. We have grown to the size of our bowl, and it’s time to make the jump to a bigger tank.

A year ago, our Oversight Team was looking at different spaces and strategizing about our future. Nothing came together easily, and then life got in the way, and we took our eye off the ball about the building. We got busy, and we grew complacent.

And when I say “we,” I really mean “me.” I have let myself get too busy. I have grown complacent. I have not been the leader I need to be.

It’s as if God is forcing us to do what we would not do for ourselves. God is kicking us out of the nest. God is putting us in a situation in which we can’t be too busy. We can’t be complacent. We can’t let things slide. If our little community is going to make it, we have got to serve and sacrifice with wisdom and faithfulness. And so, that’s what we’re going to do.

 

Our current space is a total of 3500 square feet. We have a 2500 square foot building that includes our worship area, nursery, and kitchen. We also have a 1000 square foot building that houses our children’s ministry. Currently, our rent is $2000 a month plus utilities.

The catch-22 that we are in is that we need more money to get a bigger space so that we can fit more people so that we can have more money to get a bigger space … you see how it goes.

 

As we think about the kind of space we are looking for, we have four priorities:

Affordability

With our $2000 monthly rent, we are breaking even on a monthly basis, and have just a small cushion in the bank. Our budget is very lean, and we don’t have a lot of wiggle room for a renovation project or major expansion. As we look for a new meeting space, we’re not going to be able to break the bank.

Size

Since having a larger meeting space is a priority to us, we are looking for something larger than the 3500 square feet we currently have. In terms of size, we really don’t want to make a lateral move, only to find ourselves in the same situation a few months down the line.

Location

We have always met in Fayetteville. From the beginning, we have had a soft spot for the area around the Northwest Arkansas Mall, which is one of the busiest parts of our area. We would love to stay in the general area we are in, however, if we have to move out of general area, so be it.

Usability

Our long term goal is to have a permanent location that can be used in a variety of different ways. We’d love our space to be used on more than just Sundays. Art gallery. Coworking space. Offices for non-profits and startups. This is our dream. In the meantime, we are not unwilling to go portable again. We used to meet in a movie theatre and in a club. If the situation was right, we’d be willing to be mobile again.

We recognize that very few places are going to be ideal. It is likely that we will have to make some tough choices and compromises as we pick a new meeting space. It will be interesting to see how the interaction of these four priorities plays out over the coming weeks.

 

Here is what we are asking members of the Vintage community to do:

Be on the Lookout for a Location

Have an idea? Have a lead? See a place for lease? We are open to ideas. If you have an idea for a new location, do the legwork – find out the cost, the size, the availability. And then, send an email to the Vintage Oversight Team. You can email them at oversight@vintagefellowship.org.

Be Praying about Our Future Daily

In some ways, finding the perfect – or even just the adequate space – seems completely overwhelming. There certainly is margin for God’s leading and provision. Pray that God graciously does for us more than we could ask or imagine.

Be Generous

For better or for worse, we don’t talk about tithing a lot at Vintage. We don’t have capital campaigns or guilt people into giving. However, the fact of the matter is that, right now, we need the sacrificial giving of our church community to help us make this transition to our next home. If you’re so inclined, you can give on Sunday mornings or online here. If you’ve got a rich uncle you want to shake down on our behalf, go for it. I’m just kidding. Kind of.

 

This year at Vintage, ironically, we have been rooting ourselves in the story of Exodus, a story of a group of people on the move. As I was praying Friday night, I got to thinking about an interaction between God and Moses in the Exodus story. In the wake of the golden calf fiasco, God tells Moses to go ahead and lead the people into the Promised Land, but God wants nothing more to do with them. Moses isn’t very thrilled with this idea. He says to God, “If your presence doesn’t go with us, we’re not going.”

We won’t move without you. 

Unless God goes with us, there is no point in moving. But if God does go with us, we have to move. That’s where my heart is right now about all of this. We’ve got to move. So, let’s go then.

 

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Heisenberg, the NSA, and Are We Really Free?

As much as I enjoy politics, I don’t post about politics all that much on my blog because I hate how divisive they have become in the church. In my role as a pastor at Vintage Fellowship, I serve people with a wide diversity of political opinions. I don’t want my opinion to get in the way of me being able to connect with people at my church, so I don’t talk about it as much as I might otherwise.

Nonetheless, I do have some thoughts about the latest DC scandals that I thought I’d share. Well, more accurately, I have questions rolling around in my head about the scandals. More questions than answers, really.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t really know what to think about Edward Snowden, the contractor who leaked information about the NSA’s surveillance program. Is he a hero or a traitor? Is he a self-sacrificing servant of the greater good or just the latest person to leverage his privilege to chase his 15 minutes? Time will tell, I suppose, and, even then, it will probably depend on to whom you are talking.

This I do know. The issues of security and freedom are complicated ones. What do we value the most? Which are we willing to sacrifice for the other? In the final estimation, which does our government have the most solemn responsibility to protect?

Those who make the argument for security talk about terrorism. They say things like “What good is privacy if we are all dead?” They site the way in which things like the NSA’s Prism program may be used to thwart an attack. “Wouldn’t that be worth it? And besides, if you are doing nothing wrong, then you have nothing to hide.”

Those who emphasize privacy or freedom wonder what is being done with all of the collected data. They worry about who has oversight of it and access to it. And they appeal to the slippery slope argument – “Today the government is using this data against terrorists. Tomorrow they may use it against political enemies.”

I am not sure which argument is more compelling to me. Honestly, I’m not sure that either is very compelling to me.

More and more, however, I’m thinking that it will be increasingly difficult for the values of security and freedom to coexist. Here’s why:

In quantum physics, there is a school of thought based on the teachings of Werner Heisenberg (not Walter White). Part of the idea of the Heisenberg principle is that observers have an effect on that which is being observed. When a scientist observes an object, the act of observation actually changes the object.

Applied to the current discussion about the NSA and surveillance programs and security and freedom, the observer effect may actually eliminate freedom altogether. If we are being observed, then we are no longer truly free. Our freedom to act, speak, even think as we would otherwise is compromised by the presence of the surveillance.

Is that a trade off we are willing to make? Is it even up to us?

These are disturbing questions.

 

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Rules of Engagement: How to Have the Same Sex Marriage Debate in the Church

This week, my blog has been focused on the ongoing debate among Christians about same sex marriage, in particular, and LGBT issues, in general. This latest round of discussions had its genesis in the Rob Bell radio interview that went viral this week in which he called “bullshit” on the way the debate was going. I blogged my agreement with him and then responded to open letter to me that was written by a pastor who disagreed. This discussion has also been going on other places, including the Emergent Village Facebook page and on a variety of Facebook feeds where people liked and shared my Rob Bell blog post.

All of this has gotten me thinking that I would like to weigh in one more time on the subject. I don’t want to talk about the particular arguments for or against same sex marriage. In this particular blog post, I don’t want to have a conversation about how Romans 1 and 2 are to be interpreted. I don’t want to discuss our hermeneutical method. All of these things are important, but they are not the only things that are important.

I make the point in my book Fundamorphosis: How I Left Fundamentalism But Didn’t Lose My Faith that it is not just important what we believe. How we believe is equally important. I think something very similarly here. The content of the same sex marriage debate is important. But of equal importance to the vitality and witness of the church is how we engage in this debate.

Humbly, and in the spirit of the hortatory subjunctives used throughout Hebrews, let me suggest the following guardrails to keep us moving forward in the journey we have embarked upon:

Let Us Take the Partisanship Out of the Debate

Personally, I am of the opinion that the church in America has sold its soul for political power and influence. I see this tendency on both the Right and the Left. We have let the rules of partisan discourse rather than the example of Jesus guide us. We have valued partisan victories over the advancement of God’s kingdom. And I think we have done this to our detriment. Certainly, the gospel is political, but it is also, just as certainly, not partisan. Is it possible to have these discussions about same sex marriage and the needs of the LGBT community without addressing their political implications? Probably not. However, can we have them without our motivation being to score partisan points? I hope so.

Let Us Stay Rooted in the Reality of Relationships

Relationships are the stuff of life. We need to remember that we are not merely talking about abstract ideas. We are talking about people. The lives of real people, with real perspectives, real emotions, real hurts, real experiences in and out of the church. We can’t lump people into a group and make assumptions about their desires or “agenda” based on stereotypes. If the example of Jesus teaches us anything it is the importance of conversations with individuals, of touching persons, of being with people. This debate must not simply be among straight, white men in positions of privilege in the church. It needs to include the voices of the people most affected by it – lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender Christians (and non-Christians, for that matter). Are we willing to develop friendships with new people? Are we willing to listen as much as we talk?

Let Us Assume and Affirm the Best in One Another

Few things shut down meaningful discussion like name-calling and assigning bad and false motives to people. For this debate to go forward in a productive way, I think we need to retire pejorative terms like “bigot,” “liberal,” “apostate,” “hick,” and the like. The reality is that most Christians engaging in this debate are motivated by impulses of the gospel. Concerns for holiness, justice, mercy, acceptance, and faithfulness are all good and need to be affirmed. It might temporarily make us feel better to demonize people with whom we disagree, but it is neither the way of Jesus nor a productive means of having a discussion.

Let Us Affirm the Complexities

Whenever we use words like “clearly” and “easily” and “simply,” we sugarcoat reality and sidetrack our ability to come to understanding. I experienced this when I used the word “easily” in my blog post about Rob Bell. The debate became about the word “easily” rather than something of more substance. The reality is that this debate is not easy or simple or clear. We are doing ourselves a disservice when we suggest otherwise. We ought not be scared of hard conversations. The church has waded through choppy waters in the past. We can do it now.

Let Us Embrace the Suck

Let’s just be honest. This debate isn’t much fun. It involves some of the most personal and private aspects of our lives. It picks at scabs of hurt and heartache. It forces us to face our deepest insecurities and biases. It can cause strains in friendships and family relationships. At times, we will not debate well. We will get angry. We will say cruel things. We will do more harm then help in our attempt to score points and win the debate. It will suck. But that is no reason to shy away. It will suck, and we may want to quit, but we must keep going, for the sake of the gospel, for the sake of people.

Let Us Follow Jesus

The thing I find most compelling about Jesus is John’s description that Jesus was “full of grace and truth.” Trying to follow this example is the calling of my life. In this discussion, I will do all I can to remain true, honest, and real. And I will do all I can to remain gracious, kind, and optimistic. I hope you’ll join me.

 

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