Conflict: Distraction or Calling?

You may be aware that many of our beloved congregations are gripped with a sickness unto death. You might be a staff person in a church like that, or a lay leader. You may be sitting through meetings where one side demands you make changes now, and the other side wonders why “these people,” refuse to be assimilated into our way of doing church. You might be navigating the waters of congregational distrust of the staff, and/or vice versa. You might wonder why church folk can so quickly forget the greatest commandment when it comes to speaking to, or about, a fellow member who sees things differently from them. You might have a church where no one has been challenged to do anything, so they all have plenty of time to tell you how to do it. You might be in a church that has lost so many members that they’ve begun clinging to a nostalgic image of the past and are unable to see a better future. You might be a staff member in a church because its the best paying gig you could land, but you’d rather go out and start a “cool” church. You may think that institutions are irredeemable and plagued with bureaucratic incompetence. You might be getting phone calls from members complaining about so and so. You may have received an anonymous letter this week. You might have just gotten home from a business meeting where people you’ve never seen on Sunday showed up and voted down a controversial project or amendment that would open the church to new possibilities and/or people. Perhaps you can’t sleep because you decided to make a stand in support of a gay couple in your church and the deacons called a special closed meeting to discuss your future.

These are not easy days.

There are some things I am becoming more and more convinced of in light of these realities.

1. We cannot see congregational conflict as an intrusive distraction from the “true” mission of the church. The “true” mission of the church is relationships, and is deeply relational. We have been entrusted with the ministry of reconciliation. For most of us in traditional Baptist churches, that mission is primarily and in some cases singularly internal. Its the same dynamic expressed in the greatest commandment if we read it with a communal lens rather than an individual one. We can only love others (that which is beyond the church) as well as we love our self (the church). When we work on our own relationships as the church, we are ultimately working on those relationships yet to come in the future with new people.

2. A new metaphor would be helpful for cultivating new life within old structures. One that comes to mind is when they take old barges out to sea and submerge them to form new aquatic habitats or reefs. This may seem harsher than it is. The point is that life can come from old structures. This requires an ability to move beyond critique to adaptation and utilization of what one has to work with, even when it is not ideal. If we want to claim our God-given image, then we must be willing to speak/breath life into lifeless things–to begin with what we’ve got. Look at what was done with cosmic dust and dirt!

3. It is vital for us younger clergy to make the distinction between what are actual & legitimate criticisms of us, and what are projections of past disappointments and present disillusionment. Its not enough to be full of great ideas and innovative concepts. Nor is it enough to be articulate and organized. The most important element is to be known. First to yourself, and second to your congregation. Our significant challenge as Gen Xers and now Millennials is reconciling our own fractal selfhood. As products of the information age, we are walking conglomerates of sponsor identities. The truth is that many of us have yet to trust in God’s naming of us as “the beloved.” That leaves us lonely in the deepest parts of who we are. That loneliness can lead us to serve for our own egocentric and even narcissistic needs. When that loneliness is replaced with knowing ourselves as God’s beloved, then criticism will never be threatening. If its legit, we’ll be whole enough to admit we could do better or differently. If its a false projection we’ll see it as such and not defensively overreact. In all of this, we will be able to make space for others within our selves because that space is no longer cluttered with our fleeting attempts to feel loved & demand acceptance. The space that God-belovedness makes within us is the space we can invite others into — be they friend or foe, critic or encourager.

4. Everyone has been made in God’s image. Especially the people we have the hardest time loving. As critical and confrontational as Jesus was with the corrupted systems of power of his day, he sought the reconciliation of those caught up in them. Perhaps it is best if we admitted that just as an emergent posture is embodied, so too is a modern traditional posture. To that extent, then, our disdain of institutionalism and foundationalism, can never disentangle itself from a contempt for those who embody it. To argue binary separation on the one hand and deny it on the other betrays a cognitive dissonance within our emerging posture. Should we focus on the relational ethic that is inherent to our emergent posture, then we will never be able to justify writing-off that which is not us. They are us.

5. We must confess and repent from our sense of entitlement as newly emerging leaders and clergy. Much of our anxiety and frustration as young leaders in the church comes by way of our feeling entitled to having it our way now. Related to that is the expectation that it should come easily. Our high-speed broadband culture has formed us well, and not all of it has been good. Very few of us will survive this emerging reformation project so long as we expect things to go our way quickly with little pain, conflict, or waiting. Birthing new life is anything but quick and painless. Since our work is so enmeshed in human relationships, histories, and emotional systems, it will be slower, messier, and remarkably transformative.  It will require much more listening, and far less demanding its own way. Authentically, it will pay more than lip-service to hearing and receiving diverse voices.

There’s no doubt that church work these days can take a heavy toll on its leaders. Especially in Baptist churches where the modern theological and methodological structures worked so well for so long. Much of what we are called to do as leaders in this context is to comfort the grieving, garner trust, build hope, and create space for new life where we can. This is hard work, challenging work, frustrating work, but rewarding work. It is our work for our time.

My prayer for us is for self-reflective honesty, perseverance, and authentic commitment to an embracing relationality. In doing so, I believe we will be true to our God-given identities amidst emerging transitions, while being redemptively open and present to conflicting identities.

Emergence and the Alliance of Baptists

I’ve had the privilege of being part of the planning board for the 2009 Alliance of Baptist Convocation taking place at Park Road Baptist Church in Charlotte, NC, April 17-19. I was asked by a dear friend to be on that board, and have wanted personally to be more connected with the Alliance.

Last week, my role on the planning board put me right smack in the middle of a video adventure through western and central North Carolina. What I learned about the Alliance of Baptists (AOB) from those who have been there from the beginning was encouraging — even life-giving.

First some back-story…

Before I had language to put on it I began emerging from a Southern Baptist heritage. That began in seminary with what I call my first great disillusionment. That’s when I discovered that the family of faith I was a part of had been devouring one another for about two decades (at that time). I had heard the term “liberal” tossed around like an expletive growing up in church, but had no idea it was tied to an in-house battle for power. This troubled me so much that I almost rejected my Baptist identity. Thanks to H. Leon McBeth and his prophetic truth-telling about Baptist history, I left Southwestern a committed Baptist, and am still one to this day — even though I bear all the marks and sensibilities of a post-denominational, postmodern person of faith.

That said, I struggled with feeling at home within a religious tradition. My Baptist identity was tied to significant historical individuals who embodied the kind of Baptist-ness I identified with. Plus, I wasn’t looking for an absolute commitment to some kind of pristine past or a finished product. I wanted to step into a line of fascinating people and progress it in new ways from my own point in history.

The “emergent” label became a part of my vernacular thanks to a book by Brian McLaren called, “A Generous Orthodoxy”. I had made my way into the “emergent” theological conversation prior to that via theologian Stan Grenz. In 2004 I attended the Nashville emergent gathering that was piggy-backed onto the National Pastor’s Conference put on by Zondervan. For the first time since seminary, I felt at home. It was the first time I felt like I had a people.

A video adventure & the discovery or narrative parallels…

Last week we interviewed several amazing people for what will become a DVD for the Alliance Of Baptist Convocation. It will also go out to all AOB Churches. When we asked for the person’s personal Alliance story, every interviewee spoke of creating or discovering a home place. What’s more, each interview spoke of a journey that shares many of the same elements found in the “Emergent” movement.

Here’s what I mean.

What I discovered from those who began the Alliance goes like this in broad narrative form:

They never felt a part of the convention (SBC). They didn’t fit completely with moderates or conservatives. They were highly conscious of social justice concerns and troubled by the churches lack of concern. They were too outspoken on gender and sexuality concerns. They were all over the theological map — or off of it — as it had been drawn by denominational leadership. They wanted to preserve freedom and the space to question. They were looking for a way to connect with others like them in order to have a sense of home and collective purpose. They believed there was another way besides the two rivaling Baptist factions. They didn’t want to fight or win, they just wanted to be church together.

What I know from those who began the Emergent conversation goes like this in broad narrative form:

They were young evangelical leaders who felt awkward in their vocational skins. They were troubled by the direction of “Church Growth” and its lack of depth. They also didn’t share the culture-war values of other evangelical elders. They were troubled by the lack of concern for social justice issues among evangelicals. They grew more marginalized from evangelical circles as they became more outspoken. They were all over the theological map — or off of it — according to how it was drawn by evangelicals. They wanted room for generative friendships and conversations about Jesus, faith, church, and life. They were looking for a way to connect with others in order to find a home and partnership in missional community. They were not interested in the fight between liberal and conservative Protestant theology because both are suspect. They were not interested in winning, they just wanted to be the kingdom right here, right now.

Of course these are two reductionist story-lines that reflect my personal bias. To include all the nuances would take volumes and wouldn’t make my point as succinctly as I would like. These are certainly not the same stories unfolding in different times with different language. They are unique and varied. However, they share more than enough to be considered “of the same lineage.” Specifically, of the same lineage as the spirit of reform that has lived as remnant within the entire history of Christianity.

Some historical perspective…

In her new book, “A People’s History of Christianity,” Diana Butler Bass takes a look at church History from the ground up. In it, she draws a helpful distinction between what she calls “Big-C” Christianity, and “Great Commandment” Christianity. “Big-C” being the narrative of Christian history that moves from Christ to Constantine, to Crusades, to Calvin, to Christian America. A narrative largely defined by power, success, and victory. A narrative based on the great commission. “Great Command” Christianity being the rarely told story of those who were often silenced by the Big-C story. The story of those who have loved God and neighbor and have often suffered for it. Listen to more here.

My point…finally!

As I listened to the Alliance story being told by those who helped start it, and as I take stock of my own journey as an emerging Baptist, I can trace a lineage through both that fits into what Diana Butler Bass calls “Great Command” Christianity. Whether we call it “emergent,” “progressive,” or “postmodern,” much of what we are pressing into is a heritage of scandalous love. A love that manifests itself in radical hospitality, prophetic speaking to power, and active social engagement. As long as these are alive and well, the church has a future, and the kingdom of God will be present in our time.