In a one mile radius

There is an intersection not far from our home. Within a one mile radius of this particular intersection, there are 4 church buidlings (2 conservative denominational outposts, 2 conservative non-demons). From what I can tell, these churches seem to mirror one another fairly closely when it comes to doctrinal belief and practice - and probably aren't too terribly distant from one another in their worship styles and preferences.

Why are there four congregations? Should there be? And what would life be like for the average member, for the ministries of the various congregational leaders, and for the reputation of Christ in the community if some of them were to merge? The answers aren't as simple as it would seem. Any thoughts, O readers?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For some weird reason, I have written a lot about paper products this week. I can't quite figure out why. Besides my previous post, I also sent an e-newsletter out this week that discussed paper towels and offered book give-away using the paper towel theme.

I can't explain this odd turn of events. The only paper product that is noticably absent from this week's posts is toilet paper.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some of us Van Loons have been handed microphones in order to tell people stuff. The jury is still out on whether this has been a good idea. I used to do announcements at our church in WI. Though many people remember the one that featured me hauling a couple of huge, bloody raw steaks out of a cooler to illustrate what people might consider bringing to the picnic, I like to think that my announcement-giving career had a lot of other highlights. And I have some warm (?) memories of watching our son Ben doing punk-style announcements when he was in the Master's Commission program at Souled Out Ministries. He had a mohawk, and his odd sense of humor and aggressive rebel yell of "next slide!" in order to cue the powerpoint people made for a memorable delivery. People may not have remembered what he said, but they sure remembered that he'd said it.

Check out this blog to see the logical conclusion of a career in announcement giving. Brilliant!

When a Kleenex isn't a Kleenex

Among the other stuff that piles into my e-mail "in box" each week is a newsletter from a website called Monday Morning Insight. Even though its aimed at evangelical pastors and church leaders, I subscribe to MMI because...

(a) I'm currently writing a book about the church ("The Church For Skeptics", to be published by FaithWalk Publishing later this year)
(b) I'm perpetually curious about what makes churches tick - or self-destruct
(c) My husband and I have been in church leadership in the past, and somehow, reading the various columns and news stories makes me feel like the sometimes crazy, always life-altering church experiences we've had are not just our lot in life.

The dudes who run the MMI site support the corporate, programmed side of the evangelical world, and feature lots of info. about various leadership conferences and trends. But every once in a while, one of their columnists will focus on something that reminds us how very mustard-seed-like the kingdom truly is.

This guy named Greg Atkinson wrote a little piece about the new Kleenex "Let It Out" ad campaign. The ads feature two people sitting on an Ikea-ugly couch in the middle of a city. One person sits and listens while the other person talks about something that touches them deeply. The speaker is ambushed by their emotions toward the end of the commercial, and reach for a Kleenex brand snotrag.

Though we from the church often ask questions ("Where will you spend eternity?"), Atkinson notes thtat these commercials are a visceral reminder of the incarnational calling of the church in the world. He wonders if maybe we church people are asking the wrong kinds of questions sometimes - and listening poorly to the people who most need to simply let it out at other times. Somehow, the man on the ugly couch with his box of Kleenex made it safe for people to tell their stories.

Atkinson asks, "I believe God works through local bodies of believers, but wouldn’t it be amazing, powerful and revolutionary for the Church to leave its four walls, set out a couch on the street and just listen to people’s stories as they pass by?"

A congregation can't do this. (Just imagine several hundred people trying to squish onto that ugly couch!)

But I can.

You can, too.

Partying with Jesus

Today at our church, we did something wonderfully unexpected that'll stay with me a long time.

We shared communion. And it was a party!

At this church, the opportunity to participate in communion happens smack dab in the middle of the worship service each week. In order to mix things up, the actual observance of communion cycles between passing the plate with the thimbleful of Biblical Welch's Grape Juice/fragments of matzo and inviting people to come to a table set with a little bowlful of aforementioned juice and a plateful of matzo pieces.

But today, the congregation was invited to a very different kind of communion celebration. At the close of the service, while the pastor was praying, someone uncovered two long tables covered with all varieties of bread: matzo, dense french bread, sweet breads, dark breads...and grapes...and chocolate! There was a table set with bottles of sparkling grape juices as well.

The ritual solemnity with which we Christians usually participate in communion was absent this morning. In my head, I've known these verses for a long time:

At His final Passover Seder on earth, Jesus said: "After taking the cup, he gave thanks and said, "Take this and divide it among you. For I tell you I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes." - Luke 22:17-18

Fast forward to the end of the story, where the angels proclaim: "Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready." - Rev. 19:7

And in my head, I've known that communion is SO MUCH MORE than a Barbie-sized religious snack. (Even wrote a little piece about this very subject for Group magazine a couple of years ago.) A lot of the meditations out there to help people engage with communion tend to target our cognitive response to God. "Oh yeah," we say. "I must now remember that this little cracker fragment and sip of room-temperature juice is meant to help me remember that I'm supposed to remember...uh...Jesus died on the cross for me."

This morning, people of all ages were taking handfuls of chocolate and grapes, sampling breads, pouring sparkling juice into clear glasses. This morning's celebration, communion with a group of a group of happy, surprised people smiling, laughing and actually eating and drinking together was an experience that burned itself onto my heart.

This'll be an experience that I "bring to active remembrance" when I participate with Jesus as I share communion with Him and others in the future.

Celebrating! Tasting grace! It made me soul-hungry for the real thing - the party in heaven.

But you know what? I think Jesus enjoyed the party at the church this morning.