Ages and Stages in Worship

I deeply appreciate this Huffington Post article on children in worship and this blog post from a member of our church community.  Some of the best sounds in worship are those of young children.  Our ministers and deacons often engage with the young ones as part of their sermon, prayers or offerings.  Very often, these interactions open the Scriptures in ways that prepared speech cannot.

I know that some of the sounds of young ones can be distracting for people who come to church seeking a particular kind of silent communing.  Let’s be honest, though: we can have silent communion with our Beloved anywhere at any time.  We simply choose not to employ that reality except in the buildings we label as “church”.

When we come together as Church, (that is the proper use of the term — it means the people, not the building) I pray that we would to come together in ways that welcome even the youngest of our members.  This means, in part, that we do not have the same expectations of them that we have for the eldest among us.  It means recognizing the gifts that come from every age group, from the very young to the very old.  Everyone has something to offer in worship, and everyone has something to receive.

Creative elements in worship engage many ages and personality types.

When we were young, our family sat in the front pew at church.  We were close enough to smell the freshly baked bread; close enough to feel the breeze flowing from the pastors’ movements as they preached and paced nearby.  I often felt that the pastors were speaking right to me, and I felt like I was part of the community from a very young age, especially when I was able to connect with Jesus at the communion table.

I grew up in the midst of a congregation where even the youngest members were able to partake in communion whenever the parents deemed it appropriate for their children.  By the time I was three, I was well aware that Jesus came into us in a special way and connected us powerfully at the communion table.  My father recognized that I was ready, and I soaked up every ounce of Jesus, and I looked at all the people kneeling around that railing and I knew that we were all Family.  That was a profound moment in my faith formation.

We all have different ways of connecting with the Divine.  One of my deepest hopes is that our worship experiences would be shaped in ways that help people from every age and every stage of development to experience connection with the Beloved and with one another.  This is one of the ways that the Cure for the Virus can spread — when we all become conduits of healing and love, opening up together as we practice being Church.

Addressing the Millennial Church Question - Lenten Devotional 2

We are in the first full week of Lent.  It is a time for intense introspection and for watching where and how the Spirit is moving today.  For this reason, I want to direct you to this blog post asking why millennials are not attending church.

It doesn't beat around the bush.  It addresses one of the issues I have struggled with in my love/hate relationship with the way children's and youth ministry has been done for many years.  I have felt since I was young that inter-generational ministry is of utmost importance.  The majority of congregations simply don't know how to do this anymore.  I have heard our elders often wonder why the sanctuary isn't sacred to the younger generations.  It may partially be because, as the blog author reminds us, children and youth have usually been found in the basement of the building while the adults do church in their own way in the sanctuary. 

The future isn't as bleak as it appears in the aforementioned post, though.  Through Sunday School, VBS and Children's Church, our younger generations have learned to connect with the Divine through music, movement, nature, creative endeavors and outreach mission trips.  This means that people around my age bracket are more likely to experience and express our spirituality in our everyday life, not just on Sunday mornings.  It does have the downside that we often do not really feel like we "fit in" on Sunday morning in a sanctuary or church building.  The question I think our congregations really need to consider is not "why aren't millennials coming to our church?" but instead "how are millennials connecting with the Divine, with other people and with the rest of creation?"

Perhaps, when we consider this, we may not be so hopeless when we look at the demographics of our church attendance.  It may be helpful for us to consider that through the Gen-X, Millennial and younger generations, God is at work in a different way than has been seen in recent history.  Belief in God is not absent, nor is spirituality lacking.  What our congregations might want to ask is how we can learn from our younger generations.  What might the Beloved have to show us through the ways our younger generations are doing "church"?

Our congregational leaders are realizing that without the funding of the younger folks, our buildings may crumble.  They may be sold or downsized or shared. But the truth of the matter is, church has never been about the building.  It is about the people.  Perhaps, through the younger generations, we are being reminded of Emmanuel -- the Presence of God is in our midst, in our everyday lives, in our hearts.  The church building and the structured organization may seem to unravel in the coming years, but the truth is Church will remain, for Church is the people of God revealing Christ's love to the world.

Here in the theological zombie realm, we have been working on remembering who we are and why we are here.  This is the fundamental question that we must ask if we are to be infused with new life.  Although it is a question that we all must ask ourselves individually, it is an essential question for the group that is called the Church.  Who are we?  What is our calling?  How is the Beloved working through us in the world today?

Take heart, dear ones.  This is not the end.  It is simply the birthing pangs of a new creation being infused with the Breath of the Holy Spirit.  The Church is remembering who we are called to be.

Why aren't millennials attending your church?

The American church is obsessed with reaching millennials. Well, at least we are obsessed with talking about it. I’m not entirely convinced we really want to reach them, or…

MINISTRYMATTERS.COM

The Dark of Night

In the darkest portion of the night, just before the world shifts on its axis to allow light to begin to filter into the skies, the sounds of shuffling is heard.  Halted breaths and deep sighs of anguish are expressed.  Another night's sleep has been disrupted by the vague awareness of pain.

It is the time of the month where my brow furrows at the reality of womanhood.  I sigh again, roll my achy body out of bed and into a pair of slippers so I can tend the flow of the moon.  Now my mind has begun to move.  There is no returning to the comfort of sleep.

As I prepare the morning brew and watch the sun rise over the horizon, I am struck by the constriction of abdominal musculature.  It reflects, in many ways, the feeling that has gripped the top of my sternum over my heart chakra since hospice was brought in for my father a little over three months ago.

The morning progresses.  I start a load of laundry and play with my kitties.  Watching them roll on the floor I find myself chuckling at their playful batting and pouncing upon the soft woven portion of an old shoe lace.  They lift my spirits from the darkness and pain.  I am thankful for the joy they bring to my day.

© TheologicalZombie – All Rights Reserved.

Within the hour, I am shocked and amazed at the swiftness with which the strands of darkness of the night leap forth and entwine me once more.  Something that would normally seem like a small bump in the road, a little miscommunication over the phone, has now depleted my energy supply.  I find myself in the familiar terrain of the zombie virus.

For a time I am hungry for retribution, relying on the rudimentary and reptilian portions of the brain that cause us to be reactive rather than proactive.  Fighting the viral sinews causes physical and emotional exhaustion.  I am spent: a teary, snotty mess, curled in a ball on the floor.

In this moment, I am incredibly vulnerable.  I am glad no one sees me this way.  I am at home.  This, generally speaking, does not happen in public.

It did, once.

When my father was in hospice care, the heartbeat rhythm of the sacred drum as my father-in-law and husband played and sang a mourning song elicited such a response in my parents' home.  The same came out in the public sphere of our church when that song was played at my father's memorial service.  That may be the only time I have shown complete vulnerability in public.

I consider this, the revelation of the bare nakedness of the soul, a gift for those who were there with me.  It is a deep honor to be in the presence of total vulnerability.  It means that the people and the place are perceived as safe enough for the armor to come off.  In such spaces, where the soft underbelly of human experience is welcomed and encouraged, the zombie virus loses its power.

This can be the gift of the church, if we will only let it.  If we make ourselves aware of the spiritual, psychological and physical needs that those who are grieving, then we will be better equipped to be perceived as the light and love of Christ in the world.  If we will not be afraid of the dark night of the soul: the deep, agonizing pain of grief, then we will aid in spiritual healing.

My prayer today is that perfect love will cast out our fear so that healing might be felt within the walls of the church.  May this come to pass quickly, in Jesus' name.  Amen.

In the Day of Trouble: A Psalm for Zombies

While reading the office for this evening at DailyOffice.org I found myself highly intrigued by Psalm 27.

Imagine yourself surrounded by a hoard of walkers or zombies and clinging to life by a hair's breath.



Smell the stench of rotting flesh.  Hear the moans of hungry foes.  See the flickering candle, your only source of light in the deep night.  Taste the salty sweat dripping down your face from your brow line.  And then read the psalm below...

The LORD is my light and my salvation;
whom then shall I fear? *
the LORD is the strength of my life;
of whom then shall I be afraid?

When evildoers came upon me
to eat up my flesh, *
it was they, my foes and my adversaries,
who stumbled and fell.
Though an army should encamp against me, *
yet my heart shall not be afraid;
And though war should rise up against me, *
yet will I put my trust in him.

One thing have I asked of the LORD;
one thing I seek; *
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life;
To behold the fair beauty of the LORD *
and to seek him in his temple.

For in the day of trouble
he shall keep me safe in his shelter; *
he shall hide me in the secrecy of his dwelling
and set me high upon a rock.

Even now he lifts up my head *
above my enemies round about me.
Therefore I will offer in his dwelling
an oblation with sounds of great gladness; *
I will sing and make music to the LORD.

Can you imagine, dear ones, what it must have been like for the psalmist?  When they composed this song of love and trust they must have been in the midst of a terrible war!  Yet even in the midst of crisis, they raise this song of praise knowing that God is truly the One who will deliver them.

Are we, in the midst of our daily struggles, able to offer such praises?  Can we sing songs of trust and love while we are surrounded by terrors of the night?  I desire with all of my heart to say yes.  I want to stretch my hands up in the air and trust that God will deliver me from the pains and struggles of this life.

Let's pray, dear ones, that we might experience the uplifting of our minds so that we, too, can sing with joy in the midst of the trial.  Let us run to the holy places where the Spirit of God is magnified, so we might feast on our Maker rather than one another.  Let us gather in the sanctuaries and be renewed by the Living God who enters into our midst and brings peace to us - body, mind and soul. 

Let us sing and make music before the Lord.  And then, dear ones, let us go into the hoard and do our best to offer the antidote of Christ to our zombie brethren, for we all know what it is like to have a hunger for flesh.  But we know the One who can fully satisfy this hunger and bring us (and all to whom we minister) peace and life to the fullest measure.

Dust and Ashes: Mortality, Ash Wednesday & Collective Memory

Fellow zombies attempting to remember our Identity,

Yesterday we began one of the most intense seasons in the Family year.  As our heads were marked with ashen crosses, we exhaled and sighed, remembering that humankind was created from the dust of the earth and animated by the Breath of our Creator.  We all know, don't we, the pain that comes with the return to the earth?  Death hardly ever comes easily or quickly.  Very few people simply drift from this life into the next without a fight.  We live in a society seemingly hell-bent on retaining animation as long as possible.

Ash Wednesday, dear brothers and sisters, reminds us that we will return to the earth.  But this is not the end, dear ones.  Oh no, this is not the end.

A Simple Zombie Credo

The following was just posted in response to a comment on ZombieTheology.  I invite you to read the post here, and then to continue reading this one.

**********

Dear Sonny ~

You said,

“Zombie Theology isn’t about finding cool walking dead references in the Scriptures (we’ll have fun with some of that, who can resist?), it’s about the disease. How it’s contracted,how it’s spread from host to host. How they can be stopped (got to shoot them in the Soul, their head) and the most important question of all, how do we cure ourselves once we are bitten by the overwhelming Zombie Army?”

Here, dear one, is the gospel: we don’t have the cure. God does. The cure came in the form of Jesus Christ and is being distributed by the Holy Spirit breathed into the world as Jesus breathed His last. Jesus came to resurrect our imaginations, to give our brain-dead appetites something other than each other to gnaw on. One day, all of creation and all of humanity will remember the goodness and freedom it was crafted with. We look forward to that day.

You are right when you say that many Christians are acting in ways that resemble zombies. We are part of a world that is infected with the virus, (or the toxin, or the radiation, whatever imagery we find in zombie literature can be applied). We’re born into it, we’re raised by infected beings, and we’re exposed to it every day. The zombie infection is everywhere. It’s what gives all humans (and other animals, for that matter) a tendency towards violence, self-preservation, destruction of others and other behaviors that are not conducive to societal uplifting.

Touch a New Perspective

I love music!  I have since I was a little girl.  Singing along to my parent's LPs of the Beach Boys or Peter, Paul & Mary, my ears and vocal chords have been trained to pick out harmonies, to match cadence and to blend well with others from a very young age. 

Since I have graduated from college, I have added a few instruments to my musical endeavors.  You may have seen the photo of my hand drumming in an earlier post, or a photo of my sweet twelve-string which I have used to lead worship for two and a half years.  Despite my love for music, walking in to an instrument store used to depress me.

Oh I loved the instruments and the shine and the sounds, but I was always held back by something.  I couldn't see myself playing these great works of craftsmanship.  As far as I was concerned, the precious instruments were always  meant for somebody else, someone who had more time, more talent, more money to spend.  I would never even look at the instruments that were at eye level, only those close to the floor or on the clearance rack.  That's what I allowed myself to touch.