The Worship Myth

There is a myth that has been circulating for decades and centuries.  It doesn't involve Nessie, Big Foot, or chanting "Bloody Mary."  The myth involves an hour (for some more) on Sunday.  This pervasive myth is referred to as the Worship Myth, and at it's simplest it states that the worship service is the foundation of the church and its ministry in the world.  To start, grow, or go to church is equivalent to getting people to gather in as large a crowd as possible to sing songs about God and to listen to a gifted communicator (sometimes) talk about God (hopefully).  Ask most church planters in the United States about starting a church and they will give you a recipe about getting your launch team together, preparing your monthly preview services, and finally launching your %ss-kicking multi-media "worship experience!"  Lady Gaga ain't got s!#t on the show we put on each Sunday in the East Shore Elementary School Cafeteria.  Ask an established church pastor about church growth and he or she will probably launch into adding a new building for their "eco-friendly-accoustic-only-modern" worship service, or adding another campus, or investing in tech upgrades for their stadium-seating worship center/sanctuary.  Ask most church members about going to church and they will respond with their personal dimensions, "I go to the 10am ancient-future service on the South Campus in my v-neck T and skinny jeans."

The problem with the Worship Myth is that it ignores the teachings of Jesus in Matthew 28:18-20 in which Jesus commanded his disciples to do as he had done which was to make disciples.  Jesus never explicity commanded his followers to worship.  Rather he commanded his followers to baptize and teach people to obey all that he commanded.  And what did Jesus command?  To love the Lord your God with all of heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love your neighbor as you love yourself.  For Jesus the role and function of the church was to make disciples who didn't merely worship him for an hour on Sunday, but who worshipped him 24/7 as they began to look and act more like him in their homes, in their neighborhoods, in their jobs, and in their communities.

What might our homes, our communities, and our world look like if the church decided to invest as much time, energy, and money in helping people look and act more like Jesus the other 167 hours of the week?              

Night Lights

Over the past few weeks, I have twice been startled awake by the repeated cries, "Dad!  Daaaaaaad!  Daaaaaaad!"  On both occassions, I rushed into my five-year-old's room to find him cocooned in his top bed sheet, a chrysalis of tears and whimpers. 

"What's wrong buddy?"
"I'm scared."
"What are you scared of?"
"The dark."

My first thought, "Me too."  I not ashamed to admit, I'm scared of the dark.  I'm scared of the darkness of cancer and terminal illness.  I'm scared of the darkness of genocide and repressive violence.  I'm scared of the darkness of global sex-trafficking.  I'm scared of the darkness of starvation and poverty.  I'm scared of the darkness of foreclosure, bankrupcy and economic ruin.  Mostly, I'm scared of the darkness in my own heart.

The day after my son's first cry in the dark we bought him a spaceship night light.  After the second, we agreed to let him keep his door open through the night.

Of late I've been crying out in the night, "Dad!  Daaaaaaad!  Daaaaaaad!"  The darkness has closed in, but I'm once again discovering those well-worn words, "Light of the world you stepped down into darkness opened my eyes let me see beauty that makes this heart adore You hope of a life spent with You."

A Life More Ordinary

Saturday night I attended my 20 year high school reunion.  In the days leading up to the big event, I couldn't help falling victim to the "Reunion Syndrome."  The Reunion Syndrome is a condition characterized by increased self-reflection about the following: 1. Do I make enough money?  2. Is my house big enough? 3. Is my car adequately luxurious?  4. Does my job afford me position and influence?  5. Are my kids destined for greatness?  The Reunion Syndrome is commonly reffered to as "Jonesing for the Joneses." 

As the Reunion Syndrome took affect, I was surprised and saddened by my degree of Jonesing for the Joneses.  I felt my self-worth rise and fall as I reflected on those standards our society holds so dear - physical beauty, wealth, material possessions, and power.  Eventually a hidden apetite was revealed.  I hungered to be great.  I hungered to be extraordinary.  A shadow of guilt and regret enveloped me as I remembered the words of Mother Teresa, “We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love.”

At the reunion, I felt awkward.  My attempts at small talk were clumsy, gangly, and uncoordinated like I was in the throws of social puberty.  I did want to know were people lived, if they had a family, and where they worked.  But more than this I wanted to know how they had experienced the presence of God in their lives.  Had they seen God in the birth of a child, an unforeseen tragedy, or an undeserved blessing?  Had they seen God in the mundane and the monotonous or had they too been Jonesing for the Joneses?  Had they too been hungering to be extraordinary?

I wish I could say I were no longer infected with the "Reunion Syndrome."  I wish I could say that my life were filled with small things done with great love.  Maybe just maybe by the next reunion I'll be living a life more ordinary.