At the Margins

Over the next few months Culpeper House will be losing some of the members of our community…  Josh and Sarah are returning to Florida to be with their families, Ryan is planning to move into an apartment with his brother, and Sarita will be leaving for Uganda.

Times of transition provide excellent opportunities to refocus.  Over the coming weeks we will be focusing on the vision that God has put on our hearts as a community and how to best structure ourselves moving forward.  This will help us better transition new people into Culpeper House as we move forward.

If you or someone you know is interested in exploring the possibility of being a part of Culpeper House, please e-mail us at info@culpeperhouse.org.

It’s an exciting time, but also a sad time as we will very much miss those who are leaving.

In John 13:34-35, Christ says, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

It’s funny to me that most churches today decide if you are a disciple by a “conversion” moment, baptism, a profession of faith, or agreement with a belief statement.

Being a disciple of Christ has NOTHING to do with a mental assent and everything to do with having Him as the decisionmaker in each of our lives.  The gage Christ has given us is love not law.

Too bad gaging love requires relationship instead of a few words on a form.  God forbid we waste church resources on truly getting to know people instead of building better and bigger programs and expanding our rolls.  The way of the Kingdom is always ineffecient and ineffective in the eyes of the world.

I had a new friend ask me what I meant by an activity listed in my facebook profile: “Learning to be the Church while helping others do the same.” 

Here’s how I tried to concisely describe what I am trying to say:

During college I experienced a lot of growth in my faith–I was surrounded by people seeking to give their whole lives to Christ, who challenged one another, lived simply, sought to love one another unconditionally, prayed and worshipped together throughout the week, met up throughout the day, shared possessions, and so fourth. When I got out of college, I discovered that, though I did all the churchy things like going to worship, being in a small group, leading the missions team, working with the homeless, and even practicing hospitality, I became more and more like the world and less and less like Christ. I was an A+ citizen of a church, but I was becoming less and less of a follower of Christ while I became more and more “American.” I continued to discover more and more how selective and myopic churches are as to scripture and the gospel. Because I wanted to be a follower of Christ (even though the cost was much more than churches let on), I sought a community of people dedicated to doing life together (much like I’d experienced in college).

I think that the Church is very specifically defined as people and, while theologically and rhetorically pretty much everyone would agree, churches structurally tell people that church is an event, a building, a club, or an institution. (Check out what I wrote about “my church” a few months ago: http://www.atthemargins.com/2007/05/04/where-do-you-go-to-church/ ).

I want to be a part of the Church that sets people free from those things that afflict them, that is powerful, that is known by it’s unconditional love for others, that radically follows Christ, that is willing to die to itself, and that, as a result of all this, sees people transformed day after day.

My friends and I are slowly, but surely learning to be that Church.

My friends at Ma Siss’s Place and Quincy Street Missional Church  continue to be featured in the Boston Globe this morning and last.

Part 4: And who, now, will lead them?

My friends at Ma Siss’s Place and Quincy Street Missional Church  continue to be featured in the Boston Globe this morning and last.

Part 2: A call to serve, and to lead

Part 3: A crisis year, a Christmas comeback

My friends at Ma Siss’s Place and Quincy Street Missional Church were featured on the front page of the Boston Globe this morning.

This first in four part series will continue the next three days (I will post a link each day) and features many pictures and some other multimedia.

“From a Dorchester Chop Shop, to a Place to Pray”

Tomorrow I will be starting my first day disciplemaking (in a formal capacity) at Fairlington Presbyterian Church.

As everyone who knows me responds, “you’re going to work for a church?!?!?!” In fact, the only reason I started blogging about the Church and my faith was that I thought I’d never work for a church.  God has a funny way of busting out our visions of the future for His.

My thinking on church has not really changed. The Senior Pastor is a good friend and neighbor. She has been working hard to steer those in her care towards being the Church and I will be part of that change. I’ve been invited because of relationships and my giftings and not my institutional church qualifications. As anyone who spends any time with me quickly discovers, I am both passionate about helping people become disciples of Christ–seeking after him with reckless abandon and obeying the Holy Spirit–and building authentic Christian community (a.k.a. the Church).

God will continue to be providing my income, just through a church now and not the Rural Trust, and as such, I will continue to be ultimately responsible to Him.

I’m certainly more than a bit trepidatious, but at the same time, so excited!

It’s funny how quickly I revert back into the institutional function.  It’s something I’m going to have to be mindful of—a lot.  There was a little snafu in the middle of Sunday’s worship where I said I would pray and the woman who was sharing her story (she did such a great job!) thought I was asking her to pray and a look of dread came over her.  I cleared it up that I was planning to pray. 

At the end, she and I talked about how hard it is for her to pray out loud (something I’ve heard from many people before).  She added that I pray so well.  I told her that one of my friends has often challenged me, “do you talk to anyone in the manner that you pray out loud.”  The truth is I don’t.  I use stilted flourishes, not to mention a different voice.

For a little while in high school I sang in the church choir.  We would pray at the beginning of each rehearsal and I remember always looking forward to hearing Ms. C pray.  Unlike anyone I’d known to that point, she truly prayed to “Daddy.”  Her prayers were simple, intimate, and loving, but at the same time, there was no confusing the awe and revere she had for her Father.

When I pray religious prayers, I enforce the lie that God desires prayers that are formal and articulate rather than personal and sincere.  My actions tell people that they are unable to pray.  For shame!  When I pray formally it is certainly not for God, rather for show and the institution. I need to pray simply, intimately, lovingly, personally, and sincerely—he’s my Dad after all—so that others may know that they are able to talk with Him as well.

Keith, a friend who often joins us at Culpeper House for Wednesday dinners, shared a wonderful post by one of his previous pastors.  It’s a damning critique of the institutional church:

“Someone somewhere along the line got the idea of putting on a ‘play’ for people and calling it church.”

Take a moment to read “What I think of Church”

Jan at Church for Starving Artists wrote yesterday about the need to hear one another’s stories in building authentic community.

Sharing our stories is so important. 

I’ve found it the best foundation to lay for any group whether a missions team, intentional Christian community, or sunday gathering.

It enables us to love one another so much better.  Suddenly I have a glimpse into why Susan does all those things that drive me nuts and it’s not so bad any more. I’m able to sit in silence less awkwardly becaue I now know why John never speaks. Knowing how Jim grew up affords me more grace when he snaps at me.

A practical suggestion, having done this quite a few times by this point, is to have someone who is willing to be particularly vulnerable go first and set the tone.  It’s also good to encourage everyone to have a turn, sharing only what (and if) they are comfortable, taking particular care to value however much or little is shared.  It can take people a really long time to share their story, so I’ve found, if it’s a small group, taking a weekend retreat with the primary purpose of hearing everyone’s story makes it actually less arduous and forms a great foundation for authentic Christian community.