I was listening to worship music today and no wonder I have such a problem with self esteem. Every song is like "I'm not worthy and I deserve to die and nothing I do is good enough but thank God that He was gracious enough to provide a loophole" Of course I've always felt like I have to earn love but I'll never actually be able to do enough to earn it. "You suck and you have to perform good deeds so you don't suck but also God knows your heart so he knows you're just trying to be good to get into heaven and it doesn't work that way anyway you have to believe in Jesus in order to go to heaven" was pounded into me from birth. And that's without getting into the whole "God is your heavenly father" thing. I'm sure that didn't fuck me up either.
Everyone knows the church is losing the next generation, but very few churches are willing to make the changes necessary to win them back.
One of my dear friends sent me this article and I sent a screedy email back. I just saw it in my inbox again and thought I’d share my screed here.
Who is his target audience, the committee on committees at First Stiffneck Baptist? In the inimitable words of Anne Lamott, this makes me want to drink gin straight from the cat dish.
“Update your music” is almost impossible. Evangelicals already rush to bury their snouts in the Hillsong trough every time they dump a new song from the bucket. They can't get anymore updated unless someone retrieves one from next year in Wollongong with a TARDIS.
"Put people in leadership and on stage that you want to see in the seats." I don't deny the importance of representation, though I think it's a bit of a rabbit trail-- if I'm 21, do I need to see another 21 year old, or will a 25 year old do? What about my race and gender being matched up? If I'm one of these hypothetical twentysomethings he's after, how exactly like me does a stage occupant need to be be before I'm willing to hear the Gospel, receive the sacraments, and commit to being a part of a community?
That this callow youth attends a church with a stage and equates being on it with leadership speaks volumes. What about the leaders who lead in sacrifice, in humility, in behind-the-scenes service? Do twentysomethings need to identify with the stars of the Sunday morning show, or do they need to be crucified with Christ?
“Ditch the suits.” I can’t remember the last time I saw a suit in church outside of weddings and funerals. I’m a little wistful for them, to be honest. Miss Manners made an insightful comment about this attitude:
"It is with inexplicable pride that people describe themselves, their homes, and their dinner parties as 'casual' or 'informal.' From the tone of voice in which just about everyone says, 'Oh, of course, it's to be terribly informal,' or 'We're always casual,' you would think that America now is like the court of Louis XIV, and that they, alone, have introduced some spontaneity." Indeed.
Dressing up bolsters the will towards the performance of duty-- there's a reason I tend to lace on heavy duty work boots before taking on six children every day.
Dressing up is useful for marking special occasions and liturgical seasons, as a sensory accessory to catechesis, aiding our observance of the ordered flow of time. History is not mere chaos, therefore we dress.
Dressing up is fun. Do we honestly think that the Millennial who is covered in an arabesque of carefully chosen tattoos doesn't enjoy curating appearances? Perhaps we ought to give people more opportunity for it, not less.
"Preach through conversation, not condemnation." Unless he's a member of Westboro Baptist, I don't understand how he perceives this homiletic style as being a prevalent issue-- unless by "condemnation" he means acknowledging that you are dead in your sins without Jesus, in which case we should also ignore this very bad advice.
"Meet people in their 20s where they are: online....They live online." No, they don't. They have bodies that exist in the physical universe. They may spend an unhealthy amount of time gazing into the virtual world, but they live in the same reality as the rest of us. Sure, get an Instagram account to communicate, even to offer bits of wisdom and teaching. But you can't offer anyone a virtual Eucharist, at least not without falling into grave error. How about we offer the anchor of Jesus' body and blood to these poor, isolated ghosts in their machines?
