Making Noises

We received the following in an email from our church’s vision team.  Our answers are below each question.

The Vision Team would welcome your perspectives on the following questions.

1.  What is most important to me about my congregation?

 

The close friendships we have made where we feel totally accepted and can be truly authentic.

2.  What do I worry most about when I think of my congregation?

 

In general:

 

We’d say that sometimes in faith communities there exists a reluctance for authenticity and honest discussion.  Such an atmosphere is not fostered, welcomed, or encouraged.  There also exists, in some faith communities, a shame based culture, as well as pressure to conform, “go with the flow,” don’t rock the boat, etc.

 

For example:  Christians, because of who we are in Christ, may labor under the mis-conception that we *should* never experience any form of mental illness etc. and if we do we berate ourselves for the same.

3.  If I could change one thing about my congregation at the drop of a hat, what would it be?

 

Legalism and the focus on sin, daily confession, keeping short accounts, etc.

 

From:  http://www.gracewalkministries.blogspot.com/:

 

“Under the covenant of law, one was not totally forgiven but must receive ongoing forgiveness in order to remain in a guilt free state. Yet at the cross, God poured out all His forgiveness toward those who are His. We don’t need to ask anymore! Paul described total forgiveness in Colossians 2:13-14.

The cross of Jesus was God’s final word about our sins. So let’s stop acting like it wasn’t by continuing to ask Him to do something He’s already done – forgive us.”

4.  What are opportunities and threats that face my congregation?

 

There exists an opportunity to become different than other churches.  A church that is inclusive, grace-based, and fostering an atmosphere of total authenticity.  Faith communities embracing total authenticity involve some measure of risk, uncomfortableness, etc. One would think that in a faith community more so than any other community (i.e. a “work” community) one could be free to be totally themselves, but this is not always the case [in our experience].

 

Threats include:  ignoring the opportunities for change, contentment with the “status quo”, making things more complicated than necessary such as outreach, missions, etc.

 

It will be interesting to see what may come out of this.  There was also a discussion group held last Saturday that we weren’t able to attend.  I believe the focus of the Vision Team is to find (negotiate, navigate)  a way forward for our church.

This was sent to me recently and I love it.  This is certainly how I see the Spirit of God being:

Excerpt from John Fischer’s book — Real Christians don’t dance.  Which unfortunately is out of print but there are excerpts here:  <http://www.ccel.us/dance.chap33.html>  Update:  used copies are available through www.abebooks.com

The Spirit of God

The Spirit of God dances. He can’t be tamed. He won’t be contained. He refuses to be confined to a weekend retreat, an evening meeting, or even a moment of devotion. He doesn’t follow schedules, programs, or agendas, and He doesn’t wait for His name to be called.

The Spirit of God dances. He dances right under the noses of those who don’t believe in dancing; and He dances right on by those who do. He dances through the assemblies of the keepers of the dance, and right on out the door – and no one sees Him go.

And as the dancers continue the empty steps of their pantomime, the Spirit of God dances on out into the streets. He dances by the harlots in the red-light districts, by the victims of AIDS in lonely homes, by bag ladies in the inner cities, and by struggling farm families across the plains. He finds the orphans and widows and dances through the lonely pain of their lives. He dances through the camps of hungry children, through the crowded streets of the oppressed, and past the wire where the South African woman is hanging out ragged laundry as well as by the scrubbed white faces sitting in church in the nearby city.

Sometimes the dance turns to mourning, but always there’s the dance. Happy dance or sad dance….the Spirit of God always dances.

His favorite dancing places are those where the keepers of the dance don’t want Him to go: on MTV, on drive-in movie screens, or on smoky stages with microphones that smell of whiskey. The Spirit of God loves sinners and dances best where life spills out on the floor.

Occasionally He dances on the clean, sweet-smelling stages of the keepers of the dance – but not as often as He would like. He dances there when the keepers need Him: when there is pain, whenever life spills out on the floor. But usually the floor is clean and the dance is simulated, carefully choreographed by the keepers of the dance to use only those steps with which they feel secure.

The Spirit of God refuses to be choreographed. His dance is raw, new, and jerky. It’s not always pleasing to the eye, but His dance is fresh in the lives of human beings whose floors have not been cleaned up. It isn’t well-rehearsed, polished, or perfect; it slips and slides, sometimes innovative and shocking and at other times just exhilarant, but it’s always real.

Most people, even those who pride themselves in their dancing, are afraid of this spontaneous dance. They’re afraid of anything they can’t control; and His dance is wild, unmanageable, even mad. But most important, it’s vulnerable, open to criticism – the quality they fear most. So they must create their own dance of predictable steps and prescribed routines and send all their people through dance school – or outlaw dance altogether.

But this should come as no surprise. It has always been this way. The Lord of the Dance himself was here once, and it was the same way then. He danced on the keepers’ holy days and broke their holy laws. His timing – if not His whole dance – always seemed offbeat. He turned the tables on their dance in the Temple as He led a solemn dance of respect through their lighthearted nonchalance. He rode along Palm Drive atop a donkey at the head of the greatest hosanna dance ever.

He wanted to turn their empty religious movements into heartfelt, joyous dancing. He wanted them to exchange the grip of the Law for the freedom of the dance. But they thought He was a clumsy dancer, always bumping into their traditions and stepping on their pious toes. He even danced with the wrong crowd, in smoke-filled rooms and on messy floors.

Once He described His generation and declared, “We played the flute for you, but you would not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn. For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ ”

No, nothing’s really changed . . . but the Spirit of God dances on.

This was sent to me recently and I love it.  This is certainly how I see the Spirit of God being:

Excerpt from John Fischer’s book — Real Christians don’t dance.  Which unfortunately is out of print but there are excerpts here:  <http://www.ccel.us/dance.chap33.html>

The Spirit of God dances. He can’t be tamed. He won’t be contained. He refuses to be confined to a weekend retreat, an evening meeting, or even a moment of devotion. He doesn’t follow schedules, programs, or agendas, and He doesn’t wait for His name to be called.

The Spirit of God dances. He dances right under the noses of those who don’t believe in dancing; and He dances right on by those who do. He dances through the assemblies of the keepers of the dance, and right on out the door – and no one sees Him go.

And as the dancers continue the empty steps of their pantomime, the Spirit of God dances on out into the streets. He dances by the harlots in the red-light districts, by the victims of AIDS in lonely homes, by bag ladies in the inner cities, and by struggling farm families across the plains. He finds the orphans and widows and dances through the lonely pain of their lives. He dances through the camps of hungry children, through the crowded streets of the oppressed, and past the wire where the South African woman is hanging out ragged laundry as well as by the scrubbed white faces sitting in church in the nearby city.

Sometimes the dance turns to mourning, but always there’s the dance. Happy dance or sad dance….the Spirit of God always dances.

His favorite dancing places are those where the keepers of the dance don’t want Him to go: on MTV, on drive-in movie screens, or on smoky stages with microphones that smell of whiskey. The Spirit of God loves sinners and dances best where life spills out on the floor.

Occasionally He dances on the clean, sweet-smelling stages of the keepers of the dance – but not as often as He would like. He dances there when the keepers need Him: when there is pain, whenever life spills out on the floor. But usually the floor is clean and the dance is simulated, carefully choreographed by the keepers of the dance to use only those steps with which they feel secure.

The Spirit of God refuses to be choreographed. His dance is raw, new, and jerky. It’s not always pleasing to the eye, but His dance is fresh in the lives of human beings whose floors have not been cleaned up. It isn’t well-rehearsed, polished, or perfect; it slips and slides, sometimes innovative and shocking and at other times just exhilarant, but it’s always real.

Most people, even those who pride themselves in their dancing, are afraid of this spontaneous dance. They’re afraid of anything they can’t control; and His dance is wild, unmanageable, even mad. But most important, it’s vulnerable, open to criticism – the quality they fear most. So they must create their own dance of predictable steps and prescribed routines and send all their people through dance school – or outlaw dance altogether.

But this should come as no surprise. It has always been this way. The Lord of the Dance himself was here once, and it was the same way then. He danced on the keepers’ holy days and broke their holy laws. His timing – if not His whole dance – always seemed offbeat. He turned the tables on their dance in the Temple as He led a solemn dance of respect through their lighthearted nonchalance. He rode along Palm Drive atop a donkey at the head of the greatest hosanna dance ever.

He wanted to turn their empty religious movements into heartfelt, joyous dancing. He wanted them to exchange the grip of the Law for the freedom of the dance. But they thought He was a clumsy dancer, always bumping into their traditions and stepping on their pious toes. He even danced with the wrong crowd, in smoke-filled rooms and on messy floors.

Once He described His generation and declared, “We played the flute for you, but you would not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn. For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ “

No, nothing’s really changed . . . but the Spirit of God dances on.