by Rebekah Simon-Peter | May 9, 2016
General Conference is a quadrennial gathering of the global United Methodist Church. But by definition, this global gathering is intensely local. Local dialects, languages, costumes, greetings, and worship practices take center 
stage. This convocation begs the question: What, if anything, does a global UMC mean for a local congregation? I posed that question to a handful of young United Methodist clergy with whom I recently met.
“I bring in different worship styles from other countries to our local church,” Sara Rettig, a pastor from Appalachia serving in the Rocky Mountain conference explained. “I make sure they are incorporated in my congregation. We talk about how our way of worshipping isn’t the only way.”
Other young clergy shook their heads. “A lot of time we don’t think of ourselves as a global church. We’re just busy trying to make things happen in our own setting. How can we focus on bringing in more global aspects to our local church instead of just catering to our own needs?”
Many churches find a way to highlight the global church on World Communion Sunday. Greetings and prayers drawn from other languages are a good way to highlight our unity in diversity. But is a once a year shift in perspective enough to create a true sense of community?
Other churches engage in annual or bi-annual mission trips to connect with sister churches across international borders. Always enlightening and uplifting, these opportunities, however, can reinforce a sense of “us” and “them.” We have the resources; they have the needs. We have the answers; they have the deficits. Is that what we envisioned when we set out to create a global denomination?
Sara’s next thought pressed the group: “What does it mean to have different theologies, and be an open church where all of us can be who we are and still be part of a connection?”
Good question. It made me wonder if that’s even allowed in the UMC. We have it, of course, but do we actually acknowledge it or welcome it?
As one young clergy leader pointed out, “The UMC tends to prize uniformity over unity.” That would seem to undermine Sara’s point of inherent diversity in a global church. But maybe the pressure for uniformity boils down to just a few select issues.
“We have one Book of Discipline that assumes we all look at issues in the same way,” said Sara’s husband, Major, also serving in the Rocky Mountain Conference. “For instance, take human sexuality. In some parts of Africa, the primary concern is over polygamy. In the US and Europe, we’re up in arms over homosexuality. If we’re really a global church, how come our Book of Discipline doesn’t reflect that?”
“True,” noted Dustin Burrow, serving in the New Mexico Annual Conference. “How can one Book of Discipline even cover places as disparate as Eastern Europe, the American Southwest, and the African continent?”
The dance between unity and uniformity, the global and the local isn’t new for Peoples of the Book. Think of it: we have four different gospels that give four fairly different accounts of the life of Jesus. Two of them don’t even recount a birth story. The two that do supply radically different details. That same pattern continues all the way through the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus. Not to mention the Hebrew Bible or Old Testament. It contains two different creation stories, two exoduses from Egypt and a plethora of names of God. Even so, throughout the testaments, you can still detect unifying themes of creation, covenant, sin, forgiveness, and redemption. Then there’s the matter of the Trinity itself—God in three persons.
If the Bible itself conveys unity without requiring uniformity, maybe there’s hope for us!
Especially if we were to take a page from Jesus and his tribe. Judaism, from ancient to modern-day times, intentionally cultivates a diversity of voices and viewpoints by which to understand God and God’s will. Books like the Mishnah and Talmud even record these voices in conversation and are studied to this day.
My point is that enforced uniformity across a global denomination like the UMC is actually a disservice. It erases the very things we can learn from each other—the varying ways we read scripture, do mission, understand the world and even our own selves.
Unity in the midst of diversity is not only Biblical, it’s Wesleyan. John Wesley famously wrote, “If your heart is as my heart, if you love God and all mankind, I ask no more; give me your hand.”
Our unity as a global denomination can become a source of inspiration, curiosity, and growth. Not a condemnation of differences. Or a striving to be exactly the same. But rather an expression of God’s own unity in diversity. Let’s see what that would mean for local churches scattered across the globe!
Thanks to Ministry Matters where you can see this and other blogs by Rebekah Simon-Peter.
by Rebekah Simon-Peter | May 3, 2016
Long before Starbucks offered 80,000 different ways to order a beverage, Burger King urged us to “have it your way.” The primary product in a consumer culture is choice. And the primary question it invites consumers to ask is “What’s in it for me?” But is there any place for that sort of question in the church?
The Church prides itself on being a self-sacrificing body, modeled on Christ’s self-giving love. “What’s in it for me?” runs counter to everything we believe in. Or does it?
I’d like to suggest that there is a secret value in urging people to ask us that question. And a not- so-secret value in the church answering it. After all, Jesus did.
Jesus gave people a reason to follow him, answering the inherent question: What’s in it for me? He met people’s deepest needs through his hands on healing. When calling disciples, he said, “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men and women!” Notice he didn’t say, “Follow me so I can use you to take care of my business.” He put it in their language and answered from their perspective.
I was often unnerved, as a pastor, when someone wanted to do or be something that we didn’t already have a place for in the church. How could I fit them into our structure? How could I keep the church running? How could we get our needs met if they wouldn’t do what we needed? After all, we had trustees and church council to fill; we needed people to collect and count the offering; we needed Sunday school teachers; we had to find people to do missions, outreach and participate in Bible study. I started with what the church needed, not what they needed or wanted to give. I started with what’s in it for us, not what’s in it for them.
Turns out that’s not a recipe for longevity or sustainability. It’s not what engages most people. Yes, slots got filled, gifts were matched with needs, and the church functioned fairly well for years. But not everyone who came stayed. We were left with what we started with: structures to be filled.
But those structures aren’t necessarily designed to answer people’s deepest needs, fulfill their dreams, or empower them in the journey to be fully human.
Now I would want people to ask me, “What’s in it for me?” It’s an honest question that deserves an honest answer. The secret value in their posing the question is they might actually find their own unique reason for being part of the church. They might find their answer for being connected to Christ. The not so secret value in our answering it is we get to check if we are actually serving people or asking them to serve us. In other words, if we are there to help them fulfill their lives, or just our structures.
I sat sipping one of the 80,000 Starbucks beverage choices with my 40-something cousin, Brent, last week. “I don’t really attend church anymore,” he said. “It just doesn’t seem relevant to my life. I mean I believe in Jesus and all. But why keep rehearsing the same stories over and over? Does it really change anything? I’m left with the question, ‘So what?’”
There’s a person who never got to ask the what’s in it for me question. And a church that never got to answer it.
I’ve participated in Landmark Worldwide programs for almost a decade. It’s personal and professional development based in a coaching model that engages the question: What does it mean to be human? The organization is secular in nature. But they do an excellent job of prompting questions the church is likewise concerned with. When someone registers for a Landmark program they’re asked, “What would you like to get out of your participation in this course?” It’s a powerful question that helps people connect with their dearest concerns and their long-lost dreams.
What would it be like for us to ask that question of seekers and disciples? All too often we simply tell them what we the church are prepared to offer. Or what we think they should be looking for. Or perhaps we don’t even explain that. But when people can connect with what truly matters to them, and see a way to fulfill that through the church, then they will be eager partners in their own spiritual formation. They will be eager disciples of Jesus Christ. But we must be willing to have them ask us the “What’s in it for me?” question. And to wrestle honestly with the answers.
One hot and humid Philippine afternoon, I traveled on a bus with the marvelously eccentric and profoundly visionary Bob Hentzen. A former Catholic priest and co-founder of Unbound, an organization that matches over 300,000 children and elders with sponsors, Bob had the long view on the church. “We are great at making Catholics,” he said, straw cowboy hat akimbo, as he reflected on his mother church. “But how do we do at making human beings?”
That question has stayed with me. The United Methodist Church is great at making committee members, and even church members. And now we are working at truly making disciples. But how do we do at making human beings?
The more we can deal with people as they are, and not as we think they should be, the better we’ll be able to do at it. Today, people do ask the question, “What’s in it for me?” Not a bad question for us to wrestle with. It assumes they have personal agency as well as God-given dreams, hopes and questions. And it assumes we truly have something to offer.
by Rebekah Simon-Peter | Apr 14, 2016
I came of age in the 70s and was raised on the TV sitcoms of the era: All in the Family, The Jeffersons, Happy Days, and The Odd Couple. In fact, one episode from the many hours of TV that I watched comes from a classic Odd Couple show. Messy, fun-loving, unpredictable Oscar Madison teaches punctilious, uber clean roommate Felix Unger the negative impact of unstated assumptions. Without spoiling the punchline, let’s just say they cause everyone to feel asinine. Painful as the lesson is for Felix at the time, he later teaches the lesson to others. It’s a moment that lives on in TV history.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the need to be clear on assumptions. Each presidential campaign is based on a certain set of assumptions. If you agree with the assumptions the candidate makes, then you are likely to agree with his or her vision of the future. If you don’t agree with their assumptions, their vision is unlikely to move you.
It seems obvious, doesn’t it? But the thing about assumptions is they often go unstated and unnoticed. We don’t even realize we have them, let alone what they are. They’re hidden from our view. That’s as true in the church as it in politics. I’d like to share one area of congregational life in which it’s critical to test your assumptions, and how to do it.
When I began a new small town church appointment, I took the advice of my coach and met with different groups of people in their homes. My purpose was to get to know them and let them get to know me. It was also to discover their hopes, dreams and memories of the church. All of that was insightful. But what made the biggest difference was a question I slipped in at the last moment. “Why do you come to church?”
Here’s what I found out:
- My friends are here.
- I grew up going to church and it helps me re-set my week.
- It’s a time to pause and catch up with myself.
- I like the hymns; they make me feel close to my grandmother.
- I’m trying to meet somebody special.
- I want my grandkids to learn about Jesus.
- I’m lonely—divorced/widowed/new to town—and I wanted to meet some nice people.
None of what they said surprised me. The surprise is what they didn’t say. Nobody said, “Because I want to give back to the community, get to know Jesus better, make the world a better place, or pray for a miracle in my family.” Nobody said, “I want to learn how to pray better, or know the Bible better or because God said so.” Mind you, these were all answers I had gotten at previous churches I had served. Glad I asked. If I hadn’t, I would have dragged us all into the Felix Unger trap of making untested assumptions. Everyone would have felt asinine, especially me. And the people would have had every right to be upset, disconnected, and disappointed. As it was, the knowledge I gained from that one unplanned question helped shape my preaching, the way I approached Bible study, and new ministries the church launched. Relationships were the key. Eventually, that knowledge even informed the church’s new mission statement: “Ordinary people doing extraordinary things with the love of Jesus Christ.” The congregation was able to live it out with gusto.
The truth is, you can consult big data about why people go to church. Or even read pieces about why they should go to church. But there’s no substitute for finding out why people actually show up at your church.
I’m not saying church needs to be built around whims. But it is important to talk with your constituency and find out what’s true for them. Even if you think you already know.
To make the most of this opportunity, be as open and as curious as you can be. Lay aside any defensiveness or judgments about what people have to say. Ask open ended questions that indicate you care about their answers. Then listen, take notes, and shut up. Let people talk.
It’s helpful to do this every few years in a more formal way, like at home gatherings. It’s also an incredibly helpful question to ask of guests, long-time leaders, and new members.
Don’t forget to flip the question around and ask people who have stopped coming to church: “Why have you stopped coming to church?” Be as open, patient, non-anxious, and caring with these folks as you are with the regular attenders. Don’t necessarily try to fix things. Just listen. You might be surprised at what people have to say.
I was surprised to discover that one single mom who attended worship pretty regularly had stayed away because her friend, a Sunday School teacher, was complaining to her about church business. While she liked the church, and enjoyed worship, this mom didn’t want to come to a church that seemed to be in turmoil. In actuality, her neighbor was just venting. But she didn’t know that. She thought the church was going down. We got that straightened out, and the next surprise was she came back to worship and got involved once again.
Got assumptions? Might as well be clear about them. Own them, test them, and be prepared to revise them. Otherwise, you’ll fall into the Felix Unger trap. And you know what Oscar and Felix would have to say: “When you assume, you make an a$$ out of you and me.”
The church deserves better than that.
by Rebekah Simon-Peter | Apr 5, 2016
As the Republican convention draws near it’s clear that Trump is a force to be reckoned with. But what sort of leader is he? A bully, yes. An egomaniac, yes. An outsider, yes. One who seems to speak for a certain segment of American society, yes.
But at the risk of being tagged #loser, I’d like to mention another kind of leadership he represents. One that we persons of faith can learn from. Trump is a Moses knock-off. An Aaron. A fabricator of a 21st century Golden Calf.
You remember Aaron, brother of Moses. He’s the designated communicator for Moses—who has some sort of speech impediment. A leader in his own right, Aaron holds down the fort while Moses meets with the LORD for 40 days and 40 nights atop Mount Sinai. Meanwhile, the Hebrew people, newly freed from slavery, await at the base of the mountain. They have fasted, purified themselves, even abstained from sexual relations to be ready for whatever message Moses might bring back to them.
But Moses is gone a long time, “shamefully long” and his absence is keenly felt by the newly freed slaves. The people, fearful and anxious, “assemble against Aaron” and demand that he make them “a god who will go before us” because Moses, “the man who brought us up from the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.” Aaron tells the men to collect gold from their wives, sons and daughters. They do and he forms it into a molten calf, a common symbol of the deity in the Ancient Near East. Upon seeing it, the once fearful people are psyched! “This is your God, O Israel who brought you up out from the land of Egypt.”
Meanwhile, Moses, two covenant stones in hand—including the injunction against worshiping graven images—descends the mountain with bad news ringing in his ears. God has clued him in about what’s happening at the base of the mountain. A party with a golden calf, an idol, at the center of it. He’s already talked God out of destroying these people and starting over with Moses-clones. “You want everyone to think you’ve brought us out of Egypt just to destroy us?” He argues for their safety, and wins. He’s a uniter with a calm head.
But by the time he arrives at camp he’s angry too. And here I paraphrase: “What were you thinking? What happened here, Aaron?” Moses asks. “I told you I’d be back. You were supposed to help the people wait for me and stay in a purified state.” “Sorry, bro,” Aaron says. “They wanted it. And I gave them what they wanted.”
This sort of “give the people what they want” leadership approach was a chief concern of the British when it came to American self-rule. They worried people wouldn’t have the decency or civility or good sense to self-govern. Trump’s success seems to prove them right.
On the other hand, Trump’s supporters, like the fearful Hebrews, have some legitimate beefs. The Hebrews were fearful and seemingly leaderless and they demanded certainty. Trump supporters, meanwhile, have found that the economic recovery has passed them over. The world is changing faster than they are used to. Even though Moses didn’t abandon his people, Trump’s primary supporters— blue-collar, white Americans without college degrees—feel as if they have been abandoned. Fueled by their fears and anxieties and anger—plus over the top media coverage—Trump has given these people what they seem to want: unadulterated anger toward Muslims, immigrants, women, and those who dare to disagree with him. Abandoning “political correctness,” he has become the mouthpiece for a toxic stew of racism, xenophobia and sexism.
Even so, there are still things we can learn from him. Namely, what not to do. Here are five leadership pitfalls we can learn about from Trump, Aaron and other Moses knock-offs.
- Don’t be fooled by glib communication. Just as Aaron was the dedicated communicator for Team Moses, Trump’s talking points have dominated and shaped the Republican campaign. He speaks at a 4th grade level with words and mottos that are catchy, easy to repeat. What’s missing is truth.
- Lies are not leadership. The 2015 Lie of the Year award was bestowed upon Trump. Not for one whopper mind you. There were too many to choose from. They lumped all of Trump’s prevarications together. Together, the bunch is staggering. And award-winning. Likewise, Aaron told Moses upon his return—The calf simply emerged from the fire! He left out his role in shaping and creating it.
- Weak leadership preys on people’s vulnerabilities. Notice it wasn’t Aaron who was to free the slaves. He was just supposed to say what Moses told him to say. But left alone to fill the leadership gap, his limited capacity for leadership was illuminated. Likewise, Trump is preying on the vulnerabilities of the economically passed over. And those who fear change.
- The best leadership doesn’t just give people what they want. Like Moses, they balance needs and wants with the greater good. Leaders are responsible to a higher calling, a higher vision, a higher authority. They have a responsibility to do what’s best and not necessarily what’s easy. Aaron had let fearful people in camp run wild and get out of control. His “give them what they want” approach actually kept people from dealing productively with their questions and fearful anxiety. Similarly, Trump’s approach puts a stamp of approval on people’s desire to scapegoat instead of work for real change.
- People-pleasers like Aaron don’t make great leaders. Bullies, the flip side of people-pleasing, don’t either.
America has some real economic and racial problems. But funneling that into “fear of the other” is not going to solve our problems. Any more than killing off Jews in Europe solved German financial woes. It’s not clear if there is a Republican Moses at this time. But one thing is clear. It ain’t Trump. At the very least, he’s a Moses knock off. At worst, he might be the Golden Calf itself.
by Rebekah Simon-Peter | Feb 15, 2016
Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s classic 1937 book, The Cost of Discipleship, describes cheap grace as the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline and communion without confession. It’s the sort of grace that allowed would-be disciples to avoid confronting the evils of Nazi Germany.
These days, cheap grace has competition. In an effort to appease a different kind of cultural complacency, grace has come to mean a bar that is set quite low. Offering this grace requires little to no accountability, enforces few if any standards, and bears almost no fruit. In churches, this low-level grace is most apparent in our communal and organizational life. It translates into a kind of laissez faire, you’re off the hook, no accountability stance.
This isn’t cheap grace. It’s worse than that. It’s mediocre grace. But mediocrity is not a biblical value. Jesus killed trees that bore no fruit. He spit out the lukewarm. He counseled followers to let their yes be yes and their no be no.
When it comes to perpetuating a culture of mediocrity in churches, there’s plenty of blame to go around—from the system, to pastors, to lay people, to denominationalism itself. Not to mention the larger culture that is rapidly changing, and lives that are overly busy. The list is long.
But you know the old saying: If you’re pointing a finger at someone, there are three fingers pointing back at you. The truth is church culture can be shifted. But not by blaming others.
Here are four practices of low accountability/low fruit churches:
1. We neglect the secret of miracle-making. “Your faith has made you well” was a common refrain of Jesus. In the culture of mediocrity, we do not activate our faith in God, or in ourselves, to co-create miracles with the Divine. Instead of miracles we settle for the mundane. Then complain that nothing gets better. It sounds something like this: “How come young people don’t come to our church?” Or “How will we ever get people to help us bear the burden of our bills?”
2. We underestimate the size of mustard seeds. By confusing faithfulness with predictability (instead of trusting God in the midst of the unknown) we stunt our development as disciples. Our faith can’t even reach the size of a tiny seed. The culture of mediocrity means we no longer act as though we have been given the power to heal the sick, cast out demons, or even actively proclaim the kingdom. The church is silent on important issues and passive in the face of injustice.
3. We buy the lie. Churches that dispense mediocre grace buy into the lie that wastes time, energy, talent, and good will. It goes like this: “If this ministry / meal / outreach / worship service reaches just one person then it will all be worth it.” In churches that practice mediocre grace, this is often an excuse for not doing something well. It reinforces setting the bar for success low.
Those 3 are bad. But the worst of all is this one insidious and pervasive practice of mediocrity:
4. We let our yes be no and our no be maybe. You know what this looks like: people who commit to doing things, but never show up to meetings or get stuff done. Here mediocre grace means we can’t hold people accountable or even bring up broken agreements—lest we offend. In its worst forms, those who are authorized to decide, act, and move things forward continually put the brakes on. Meanwhile, the church loses its reputation as a safe place and a trustworthy partner, and as a witness for justice and a voice for the poor. All the while giving, and energy, goes down.
What makes this one practice so damaging? If we are not accountable in the small things, like our word, then we’ll never have authority over the larger things, like manifesting the Kingdom in our corner of the world.
Our nodding acquaintance with theories about systems and group cultures has gotten us to the point where we don’t believe we can make any changes because we can’t change the system. News flash: we are the system.
One group I am working with has started to shift its culture of mediocre grace by addressing its habitual lateness. Everything from budgets to annual reports to event registrations to worship bulletins are turned in late. Deadlines are routinely ignored. So things can’t be planned or executed well. Occasions that take extra preparation get bogged down because timelines aren’t met. Although the people themselves love God and care deeply for each other, they give the impression that they don’t. While accepting this behavior without comment seems Christ-like, it actually fosters resentment, resignation, and bad-mouthing. Definitely not Christ-like.
In this group, the denominational executives are starting the culture shift from the inside out. By acknowledging how they themselves have participated in promulgating a deadline-amnesic culture, they are making gains. For years they excused others without question when deadlines were missed, endlessly extended registration periods, and offered mediocre grace. All the while bitterness crept in, along with hopelessness, and trust among otherwise friendly colleagues suffered. Over time the situation spiraled out of control—costing them money, respect, and workability. It will take some time and intentionality to right this ship. But their courageous and transparent stance is sending all the right signals. It’s only a matter of time before mediocre grace gives way to both higher expectations and more miraculous outcomes.
It’s powerful to start a culture shift at the top. It demonstrates a willingness to take responsibility for what’s not working. It’s the opposite of the blame game. And it’s engaging. But what if you don’t have that luxury? What if the powers that be don’t recognize a need to change, or don’t know how to? No worries. Start where you are. With the people in your setting.
If deadlines are routinely ignored, or people come to church meetings unprepared, introduce the idea of a guilt-free accountability plan. Start by holding yourself to higher standards. Visibly write down dates, or enter them into your calendar, and ask others to do the same. If you miss a deadline or don’t make good on a promise, be the first one to speak up about it. No need to wallow in guilt or excessive apology. Simply owning the behavior is often enough to clear the air. This guilt-free process reinforces safety and trust. It also allows others to own their mistakes more easily.
One pastor I coach has decided to address the culture of mediocrity in her mid-size church by suggesting church teams create a group covenant. Intrigued by the idea, two teams have taken her up on the idea. They spent time hammering out the kind of agreements they’d like to operate with, and how to get there. Including a low-key, high-impact process for communicating lateness or the inability to follow through on a commitment.
Buoyed by their initial success, they now begin each meeting by reviewing their covenant out loud. Team members are encouraged to speak up about agreements not honored. As well as those met. No, it doesn’t change the past. But it does create a strong foundation for honesty respect to flourish. Instead of hiding out and counting on mediocre grace, this church is practicing the kind of straightforward communication that Jesus counseled. Friendships are being strengthened and new ministries are taking root.
It takes practice to move from mediocre to miraculous, from resignation to rejoicing. But I’ve seen it happen. Church cultures can and do shift—a bit at a time. The good news and the bad news about this is the same: it all starts with us.
by Rebekah Simon-Peter | Feb 3, 2016
Agree or disagree: people have to be told how to connect to God or what to say to God, God speaks only to the few and the well-placed.
If you disagreed with the above, then you are ready to experiment with crowd-sourced worship.
I discovered crowd-sourced worship the hard way. In my typical fire-ready-aim fashion, I had forgotten to plan details of a closing worship service. Here it was, the last day of our 3-day retreat. Everything else had gone really well; the group had bonded, transformations had taken place; the Spirit had moved. Would it fall flat on its face because I had forgotten this all-important detail?
I knew we would have Holy Communion, and that’s about it. As the group of eight church leaders sat in the loose circle that would be our closing worship, a moment of clarity came. Liturgy means work of the people. If the worship service were highly scripted, it wouldn’t be the work of this people. A pre-printed liturgy would be an oxymoron.
I prompted them through the Order of Worship in the United Methodist Hymnal, asking at each point who had something to contribute. From Call to Worship through Benediction, the Spirit moved. I provided a brief reflection and led Holy Communion. Others bookended this with a favorite scripture reading, creative words of reconciliation, simple songs, touching prayers, and even a joke that fit perfectly. I never could have planned something so good. The worship service unfolded through us. It was surprisingly satisfying.
I have since used this format purposefully. The more I trust the process, and even prepare people ahead of time, the better it gets. Each worship reflects the group that is present, and the experiences we have shared.
It occurs to me that while pre-scripted worship has a long and solid history in both synagogue and church, it seems to presume several things that are just plain wrong:
- People have to be told how to connect to God
- One person, or a group of others, knows best how a whole group ought to connect with the Holy
- Scripted worship is the work of the people
Bill Wilson, twentieth-century practical theologian and co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous wrote, “Deep down in the heart of every man, woman and child is the idea of God.” Since we are each made in the image and likeness of God, I’d take that one step farther: “Deep down in the heart of every man woman and child IS God.” That makes talking to God, celebrating God, and worshiping God the most natural thing any person can do. It positions crowd-sourced worship as a viable way to conduct corporate worship. Moreover, it allows the church to stop over-functioning and to put liturgy back in the hands of the people.
Personally, I find corporate worship much more satisfying when there’s space for me to contribute. Even if it’s simply space to speak to God in my own words during silent prayer. But most silent prayer isn’t silent. And it lasts about 10 seconds. Not long enough to connect.
If you’re ready to experiment with crowd-sourced worship, keep in mind these PERKS and PERILS.
PERK #1 Because of the nature of crowd-sourced worship, worshipers feel empowered to truly respond to the movement of the Holy Spirit. Worship feels less rote and more like a dance.
Once, at Communion, I turned in the circle to serve James, the first person to my right. Then James turned to his right to serve Cassie. Then the two of them together—who didn’t know each other before the retreat—turned to serve Kenzie. James held the bread, Cassie the cup. From then on, two turned to serve the next one. The ritual evolved without a word of instruction; it just naturally morphed.
PERK #2 It’s high expectation worship. It raises the bar of what is possible and do-able in the church as people gain confidence in their ability to connect with God. At one crowd-sourced worship experience, the energy in the room was palpable. We had just pulled off something that others had not thought possible. One pastor said on her way out to me: “I didn’t think that would be possible. But God really did speak through all of us today. I want to try this with my home congregation.” I imagine that she went home and is now empowering her congregation to discover their own personal connections with God.
PERK #3 You can start small. In fact, you have already started. If you ask for prayer concerns, offer times for testimonials, or ask people to call out their favorite hymn you are doing crowd-sourced worship. If you ask people to respond to the sermon or talk to their neighbor, you are dabbling in crowd-sourced worship. One gifted pastor I coach helps people easily greet each other by printing a different question in the weekly bulletin that people may ask each other: “How many people in your family?” Or “What are you grateful for today?” The pastor of a new church plan, ICON, invites people to respond to the scripture and the sermon using an artistic medium—clay, paint, etc.
Just as there are PERKS, there are PERILS that must be guarded against.
PERIL #1 Dominance. The same people speak up over and over. In this case, the work of the people becomes the soapbox of one or two persons. Some pastors I know have discontinued spontaneous “Joys and Concerns” because they devolved into weekly updates of one or two person’s failing health.
PERIL #2 Uncertainty. You may open up to rants and raves that would be inappropriate or hurtful. I once unwittingly gave an opening to the wife of an unhappy Chair of Trustees. She let loose on the whole congregation for their perceived faults and failings. I was stunned, unsure of what to say. In retrospect, I see that she was naming a situation I could have headed off at the pass had I been more savvy. It gave me important information, but not delivered in the way I would have preferred.
PERIL #3 Lack of participation. There is the chance that no one will say anything. Unless you’re used to Quaker meetings where that may be the case, or your people are quite comfortable with extended periods of silence, this can be quite unnerving. Given a bit of advance notice, guidance, and patience though, this can be avoided as people grow in their confidence to contribute. You can also set ground rules that make clear: no dominating, no rants or raves, and everyone has something to contribute.
Crowd-sourced worship breathes new life into old worship forms. It trusts that God is at work. It allows the movement of the Spirit to be recognized and expressed through us and among us. It refreshes and empowers. And it puts liturgy back in the hands of the people.
