Importance: 95%
Quote
“So we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.”
- Romans 12:5
Thesis
Ministry should be thought of, organized, and communicated in terms of created rhythms (i.e. liturgical patterns) rather than programs or contrived roles.
Note
Current form finished November 2023
Introduction
Have you ever had an existential crisis? That ticking, tingling, terrifying feeling that the way you have been thinking, or the actual purpose for which you are living, is not quite right. It may come on gradually, or smack you in the face, but every time a new aspect of reality forces itself into awareness. A seed of curious chaos to send your mind spinning. Whether this cycle is a blessing or a curse… I am not entirely convinced. Somehow terror, excitement, distress, and wonder all mix together as a finite creature asks questions that affect the core of our short momentary lives.
What follows is the result of this little creature’s existential crisis. Writing helps me process, and in a little way, bring order to the chaos. I pray that it may be an opportunity for reliance and reorientation toward the infinite love of our Creator.
Come Lord Jesus, Amen.
Who are We Serving?
Currently as an Associate Pastor of a larger LCMS Congregation. I have worked within the pressures and the mad balancing act of managing larger scale ministry. Within myself I have perceived an increasing dissatisfaction with the perpetual plate spinning I have found myself engaged in week after week. No matter how many amazing, wonderful, things are happening, there is still one more thing that should or could be done. The void of need gobbles up whatever effort and care it can manage to extract out of God’s people (especially Pastors). But is this way of life what we were made for?
While this is not a uniquely large scale issue, in larger contexts I have noticed that it is often treated as something “we can figure out.” The inevitable solution is to throw more resources, the “right” people, or programs into the fray.
The tipping point for me came while listening to Dr. Reed Lessing lecture about idols. What he said was simple: “Idols always want more.” They are never satisfied with the good things of God, but push and pull and claw and kill. Teaching us to do the same in their service. This ravenous abyss sounds eerily similar to the way we often treat ministry within God’s people. Many Pastors and pastors’ families can be seen sacrificing themselves to a voice that always accuses them that not enough has been done. Yet the opposite reaction is also common. When the load is too great - just shrug it off - and do “enough” (whatever that means).
The horror of this realization has been troubling to say the least. In response, I have started down a road of personal introspection and study to discern the sources and forces at play within myself and my congregation in the hope that I may be brought to a deeper understanding of my calling as a shepherd of the flock and a steward of the gifts within God’s precious kingdom.
The Social Imaginary and Liturgies of Church Embodiment
To begin making sense of the swirling, let’s start from the same place many discussions about church ministry begin. Every Lutheran Church that I have worked with or encountered has at least one of the words discipleship, mission, and/or ministry emblazoned on banners, in official documents, and generally disseminated attached to the basic dream of what the church hopes to be. Yet time and again the grand picture of what a church hopes to be languishes in the midst of daily pressures. How do these things that are so “central” find themselves neglected day after day?
Interestingly, behind these basic definitions of a church’s ideal self, there seems to be a deeper level. A communal imagination that paints a picture of the ideal church community through different rites and ceremonies, structures and organization. In other words, our imagination holds within each one of us an ideal pattern of church embodiment. Put more simply, every Christian has an internal picture of what their church community should look and feel like. This is the feeling we all have when we walk into a gathering of Christians. The feeling that says: “these are my people” or “these are definitely not my people.”
Oftentimes, these perspectives do not seem to be fully formed into articulated positions. Many elements on this level of ideal seem to come from deep rooted memories, trauma, or traditions. Being so internal, they are not always evaluated (much less placed within the counsel of Scripture). For many, they seem to live just far enough under the surface to go undetected. Yet if they are transgressed, they quickly create irrational and violent reactions (similar to my two year old being given milk by the “wrong” parent… at least according to her).
James Smith in his book Desiring the Kingdom encapsulates this phenomena using the term “Social Imaginary” which was first coined by Charles Taylor (p. 65). This internal image of an ideal existence holds our hopes, dreams and major desires. Yet even though these are deeply meaningful parts of our being, they seem to often go without much introspection.
A curious tendency I have noticed surrounding our social imaginary of church embodiment is that when elements from our internal image are exposed, whether through our opinions or reactions, they tend to be assigned to either external factors (like church size dynamics) or subjective internal factors (like personal preference). However, it seems these redirects miss the mark of how important and formative our social imaginary is to our perspective and internal motivation.
A short personal case study: I wore an aloha shirt to perform a communion service for a nursing home community. Probably not my most perceptive decision making, but it was very educational. The liturgical order, word of God, and preaching were all consistent with the accepted norm. Many even expressed gratitude for the usefulness of the preaching. Yet the overwhelming qualm was that it did not “feel” like a church service. Physical location and content all consistent, the single factor of a pastor’s dress made the whole thing “feel” different to some of them. This can partially be explained with the concept of “ritual efficacy” 1 since part of the ritual background was changed. However, there seems to be more at play. Some had no issue with the change of dress. While pressing those who did for a logical explanation ran into a dead end, quickly producing excuses like “I’m just old school.” Yet the conviction and personal investment in such a seemingly trivial change speaks to the deeper social imaginary.
Each of us have been habituated into particular patterns of church embodiment. Whether it’s the memory of a childhood pastor, or the discomfort from visiting a church on vacation, all of us have lived experiences that have taught us what we think a church community should look like. If we draw on the definition of liturgy as “the performance of faith,” or “‘doing the world rightly,”2 We can begin to see that these ideas of an ideal church are a liturgy behind our liturgy. They are the lived liturgies that have sunken in and taken root. Collectively, we can call these parts of our social imaginary: rhythms of church embodiment. They are the patterns that make us feel at home in a particular context. The things we notice the most when they lack in other communities, or when things change within our own.
Using this terminology, we can reapproach the short example above. The rhythm of church embodiment that states “a pastor wears vestments” had been transgressed. For those whom this was a salient part of their imaginary, this caused consternation (regardless of its true status as adiaphora or not). While those who did not have that pattern so deeply set, or valued, had no issue.
Another example is the Scriptural imperative to care for the health and faith formation of children. This Scriptural command is often answered with a rather restricted set of proposals. Start a Sunday school, nursery, confirmation program, youth group, etc. If a program is not proposed, then resources like busy bags, children’s sermons, devotionals, parenting classes, etc. are usually the next line of thought. All of these options in and of themselves are good things. But their liturgical embodiment tends to become a product in a line of offerings. If a family does not find the right line up of “products” for them, then the logical step is to find another church that does. In other words, the underlying social imaginary that says “I should go to church and find all the stuff my family wants/needs in one convenient package” is the real driver of decisions. This liturgy of church embodiment pictures an ideal utopia of perfectly balanced and diverse programs that people can pick and choose from to fit into their ideal schedule and lifestyle. While it may sound nice, this consumeristic narrative is foreign to the Scriptural task of raising up the next generation. Its direction of fit is all out of order. Christians should not simply be fitting church into their otherwise unchanged lives. Yet this pervasive internal picture easily ends up steering the ship from the shadows.
This is not only true in large church contexts. The counter response to this is often equally subliminal. I have talked with many parishioners from small congregations that lament the impersonal and “cold” feeling of larger program oriented churches. They look with a certain amount of pride at the small nature of their congregation and their close knit relationships. Yet a very common struggle in this kind of context is isolationism and unwillingness to welcome outsiders. This seems to often stem from the fact that, one way or another, new people jeopardize the current relational landscape. There is also a natural capacity cap for Pastors and other lay leaders. Only so many of these close relationships can be maintained by one person. Meaning that there is, in essence, a physical cut off to the size of the congregation while maintaining the same liturgical pattern of embodiment.
All of this being said, despite these contextual differences, reaction to change is rather similar. This seems to be because the underlying driver is not the particularities of a context, but the strength of the social imaginary. Meaning that if a proposal is carried out in a way that breaks with a person, or group’s, ideal pattern for their church’s embodiment, they will respond with disappointment and even anger regardless of the changes actual validity.
To summarize, gut determinations come first - followed by rational thought that often ends up trying to support the validity of one’s habituated liturgy of church embodiment. If this is indeed true, then the primary motivator within each of us is not our cool reason, or scrupulous theology, but the habituated image of an ideal church that has been seared into our beings through the lived liturgical patterns from our past.
We can see this play out in the common reactions of well meaning faithful believers towards other contexts. Individual’s that grow up in a large program church often balk at the insulated and inward facing nature of small churches. While individual’s from small churches cringe at the impersonal and mechanical operations of a larger church. Each of us is driven by our social imaginary holding within it a particular ideal pattern of embodiment.
Yet this social imaginary is often fuzzy. We are quick to use biblical metaphors and doctrines like the priesthood of all believers, the body of Christ, office of the Keys, etc. but the mapping of these beliefs to our internal image of the ideal church is not always clear. For example, we believe in the priesthood of all believers, but what does that look like beyond encouraging members to volunteer or invite people to Church?
The doctrinal explanation is easy: that all believers are personal representatives of Christ in the world and within the Church. Yet its daily application is frustrating and often elusive. Just listen to the level of concrete application in an average sermon (my preaching included) and you’ll see what I mean.
I wonder if this is because we tend to start from the wrong places. We start from the rational and move to the emotive. We start from the theoretical and move to the practical. We start from a program or role and move to their enactment. To see the weaknesses in this we will pick apart two common starting points for ministry. Programmatic ministry and unstructured relational ministry.
Categories, Programs, and Needs
First let us look at traditional programmatic ministry. I find a notable weakness to be the groupings with which programs are designed. Age, interests, type of family situation, stage of life, etc. are used to group people into manageable cohorts. While human systems no doubt need some kind of grouping to avoid chaos (take the example of Moses breaking up the Israelites into groups). However, we seem to rarely be aware, or talk about, the factors and biases that arise because of our context’s grouping schema. For example, it is a large topic in Lutheran circles that retention of youth and young adults is alarmingly low across synod. Yet we rarely step back to question if the categorization and programming themselves may be starting from the wrong place.
What I mean by this is that the categorization of humans is not a lossless process. Every category intentionally focuses on a common salient factor while ignoring others. The categories we use to group people shape the way we see them. For example, categorizing by age does not account for hair color and vice versa. What this means for ministry is that the categories we use matter. They train us to focus on certain aspects of people while ignoring others.
Imagine this, I have a group of ten people. How would I go about sharing the gospel with them? For many, the answer would be to figure out how many are adults versus kids, as well as figure out socio economic and cultural factors that influence these people. On and on the breakdown and analysis could go until you have an impressive amount of information about these people, but very little experience of the people themselves.
This begs the question, are age or interest based programs training us to focus on the right things? We preach and teach that Scriptures, the Gospel, and Jesus are central to us. But then organize literally everything else we do around how old people are, or what they like, as if these are the “real” important factors.
Not only this, but when we start with grouping people, we quickly run into the crushing reality that there are far more moments in life, age groups, and special needs than the average church, much less pastors/staff, can attend to or organize. Constantly realizing that parts of the congregation or community are underserved is a recipe for spreading too thin, or flat out ignoring major opportunities. People who truly care are put in the impossible position of seeing so much need without enough help to even start addressing it holistically.
In addition to this, here are a few more troubling realities:
- The validity of a need being addressed tends to be based on numbers not individuals (i.e. do we have enough young adults to start somethings?)
- Ministry often becomes about filling needed slots. When this becomes ingrained, the “warm body” approach of shoving whoever didn’t say no into a slot becomes normal.
- Program structures end up becoming rigid and often overly generalized or exceedingly specific.
- A top down organizational structure places the responsibility of caring primarily on the leader. The staff “on the hook” for an age group or program ends up becoming a single point of failure for that area of ministry.
- Evangelism and mission end up being small parts of the overall program rather than the basic force of the Gospel and the great commission.
- A stagnant program structure can’t change or adapt without the trauma of loss even if something new would be healthier or more needed.
So much work and effort goes into maintaining the structure of programs with a primarily passive consumer base. I wonder if we have been exhausting ourselves without a clear picture of where we are headed. In my experience, the common theme coming out of program ministry is an over promise with an underdelivery. We picture a utopia of community and offerings but usually end up with overworked and underprepared people and gatherings.
Donatists After Dark?
Anyone reading this that has come from a small church is probably cheering at this point. But I have thoughts for you as well. In small church contexts we often see a kind of unstructured relational model of ministry. Everyone can know everyone so relationships are “natural.” While this may seem like a positive on the surface, a lack of structure can quickly devolve into communities that wander or become insular.
One particular encounter that stands out to me is a conversation I had with a congregant from a small parish during lent. They bemoaned their church’s current size of twelve people and talked about the glory days of thirty. And yet the attitude of these people was basically to just hope people from their surrounding community would stumble in their front door. This congregation was used to unstructured relationships. Which worked fine when the natural factors surrounding them organically brought people together. But when seasons and times changed they had no frame of reference for engaging their community, or even extended family, as a body of believers. Last I heard, they were circling the wagons to be able to pay the heating bill this winter. Speaking with their pastor, he shared their fatalistic attitude. He was at a loss and willing to blame it all on the changing culture. This is clearly an unadaptive form of ministry that is slowly failing time and time again in our smaller churches.
Not only this, but leaders tend to be idolized in the sense that people define ministry based on what a particular pastor is good at, rather than the core of what a christian community is meant for. This reliance on a particular personal style seems ripe ground for a kind of modern donatism that idealizes particular pastors and the good old days.
Finally, the problem of a few caring for many is arguably worse in this context because a pastor is expected to care for every person in the congregation from cradle to grave.
By starting with either no relational structure or a programmatic structure, I wonder if we have accidentally built many church cultures around a dynamic pastoral personality or a meticulously maintained administrative machine. Churches that fall short of these ideals are therefore suspended in some mediocre in between. However, the real shortcoming seems to be in what either of these models rely on. Programs rely on a host of human group dynamics, advertising, and packaging. Personality based ministry relies on the consistency of the individual. Both of which boil down to human skill, talent, and organization, which are surely good gifts from God, but not the Gospel foundation we so adamantly profess in teaching. I think the creation story itself speaks to a different starting point.
The Rhythm of Creation
Let us therefore begin where Scripture does, with a small peek back into the uncreated world. One that was formless and void. The Holy Spirit in the midst of this incomprehensible background is - hovering. Here, in this rare Hebrew verb, we get a glimpse of what is to come. In the nothingness, the Spirit of God is hovering… fluttering… shaking. This pulse of the divine explodes as His Word speaks, the hovering grows into creating. Day and night, light and dark, the rhythm of creation begins. As the days of creation unfold, the music continues to gain strength. The nothingness listens to the voice of its creator and becomes something. Water flows to its proper place, earth emerges, and leafy life fills the newly created canvas. Signs, seasons, days and years are set to ticking with the cosmic clock of stars and planets.
With the basic rhythms of creation in place, the Word bends His skill to crafting hovering of another kind: the flutter and splash of creatures. But before their blessing to be fruitful and multiply is scarcely heard, the Word is back to work. The earth creatures find their form and one last creature is stamped with the Image of God Himself. This final creature is given a similar blessing to be fruitful and multiply with an important addition: to subdue and rule.
In these foundational patterns we find the genesis of everything. God creates a world that blooms and grows to a rhythm. Morning and evening come and go. God works for six days and then rests. A living vibrant world dancing to the beat of the Father’s heart. These foundational rhythms formed a beautiful liturgy of the Earth. A liturgy that started fresh each morning with the glow of light.
The Rhythm of Humanity
Scripture then backs up and zooms into the patterns of humanity. Out of the soil comes a body formed by the potter’s skill, into which the hovering Holy Spirit breathes life. The core reality of being alive - taking a breath - becomes a link between the creature and its Creator. A rhythm we experience thousands of times a day. The breathing, heartbeating, humans are placed within a garden to carry out their dominion by working and keeping it together as man and wife.
Yet humans did not abide within the created rhythms. After taking hold of the fruit, we hear the beauty of God’s liturgy as it slips away. During the cool of the day, that pleasant evening breeze and golden light, what should have been a time of connection and communion is lost because of sin’s rupture. And so humans are forced to live in a world screaming with our own greed and pride. Voices so loud that the heartbeat of the Father seems to all but fade away from Human awareness.
Even so, as the Scriptures unfold the story of God’s people, the liturgy of humanity and the earth begin to regrow. We see Israelites gathered around a Tabernacle on the day God set aside for rest. The levitical law lays out the pattern for merciful and sustainable farming. The Psalms sing Davidic prayers in the morning and evening. The old created patterns begin to come back into clearer and clearer focus.
Until finally - we meet Jesus. He lives a perfect liturgical life. He rests and works. He prays quietly and speaks to crowds. He cares for the oppressed and challenges the self-righteous. He lives, breathes, and eats. Then when the time is right, He suffers and dies, rises and ascends. Every moment in perfect harmony with the patterns of God.
As Jesus leaves His church on earth, He calls His disciples to live lives after the rhythm. The pattern He spoke into existence at the dawn of time, and restored through His death and resurrection. A liturgy that beats in step with the Father’s heart.
Natural and Redeeming Rhythms
As we begin to trace these rhythms within our own lives it becomes helpful to have some shorthand to organize and pull them together. In service of this, two broad categories present themselves: natural rhythms and redeeming rhythms.
As the story of creation makes clear, God created rhythms that are embedded within the world and within us. A central example being night and day in creation with sleeping and waking in humans. Therefore, the original design (as far as conceivable this side of the fall) is for human lives to be nurtured and grown within these patterns. Yet the fall of humanity damaged the whole of creation, twisting and even destroying our good created rhythms. This has given rise to lives characterized by misshapen and broken rhythms. When we think of life in these terms, sin and brokenness are the entropy within our lives slowly tearing them to shreds. Because humanity is so damaged, these original created rhythms are impossible to totally extract. We can see and imagine bits and pieces from the creation account, but what we see today would be more rightly called the natural rhythms of a broken and dying world. However, while they may be imperfect, by God’s grace they still sustain the necessities of life. The sun still rises and the seasons still come, our hearts beat and minds think.
When we view the world through this lens, the groaning of creation (Romans 8:22) starts to jump off the page. We see the damage humans have caused to what is left of natural rhythms as well as our inability to truly fix anything. No matter how many diseases scientists cure, human bodies still decay. In this way, we can begin to see the need for the Gospel throughout every fiber of the world and human existence. Just as no human can restart our own heart, creation needs restoration only its creator can provide.
When speaking of Christ’s work in this way, salvation is the reshaping and restoration of not only human, but all of creation’s rhythms. The way this work of restoration is carried out day by day is through a new set of rhythms (or liturgy). These redeeming rhythms are the ways God calls his people to redeem and reshape the broken pieces of the natural rhythms around and within us toward the restoration project of the Gospel. It is this kind of rhythm we find within the liturgy of the Divine Service and throughout the vocations and call of God’s people.
In his book Creation and Fall Dietrich Bonhoeffer describes the goal of Christian living as walking within the groove cut out for us by God’s will 3. The categories of natural and redeeming rhythms fit nicely within this description. Natural rhythms are those remnants of God’s good created groove that make life possible. Redeeming rhythms are the patterns by which the Children of God participate in God’s gifts and by the work of the Holy Spirit, little by little, re-dig the groove within which we were created to live.
Commissioned for Rhythms
We can further apply these categories using the systematic framework of the two commissions 4. The First Commission being Genesis 1:28 where God commissions humanity to flourish and have caring dominion over creation. The Second (or Great) Commission being the sending of Jesus in Matthew and Mark to make disciples through baptism and teaching. These commissions fit nicely with natural and redeeming rhythms. It is through these two sendings of Humanity that we can anchor a basic understanding of how each type of rhythm should function.
As in all things, we must start with the Gospel. Through the message of Jesus’ grace and forgiveness, we are redeemed from the weight of the law. Breath restored to the breathless, life given to the walking dead. We are then released into our second commission to make disciples that observe “all that I have commanded you.” Namely, a life of love toward God and neighbor. This life of love can also be expressed as living according to humanity’s first commission. In other words, the redeeming rhythms of God’s people usher us in through the Gospel, send us to be the church with the Great Commission and rightly order our natural rhythms according to the first commission.
This flow between the gospel to the second commission into the first commission is a cycle (a rhythm) in and of itself. For as we live our first commission lives of love, we also baptize and teach within the body of Christ, but as we go about this we are convicted of falling short and sinning each and every day. This conviction drives us back to the Gospel which releases us to enter the cycle once again.
Thinking of life in this way helps keep all the major aspects of Christian community in balance. It is easy to drift into cheap Gospel and lazy living. Or drive toward missional activism to the exclusion of the Gospel. Or drill down on doctrinal and theological learning without tangible connection to everyday life. But when we live in this cycle of Gospel, Great Commission, First Commision (could be called GGF for short I guess) we find ourselves being pushed into the next part of the cycle whenever we start to stray - as we always do.
Participation in the Gifts
Up to this point, we have assembled two main ways to begin pulling together the broad and beautiful reality of being created as creatures of rhythmic liturgy in a world of liturgical pattern. As we begin to think about the possibilities of applying these concepts to everyday life and ministry it is important to discuss the basic telos toward which this perspective must flow.
Every created and redeeming rhythm is a gift from our creator and redeemer. They are by no means a work for us to achieve salvation, but are our everyday participation in receiving daily bread. They are means of grace in a broad sense in regards to natural rhythms and means of grace in a narrow sense for redeeming rhythms. What this means is that when we seek to embody and habituate ourselves within these rhythms, we are not creating anything new. Rather we are humbly receiving and respecting the limits, needs, and purpose of ourselves and community as defined by God.
If we broaden this reasoning to capture the passing of each moment of our day, it quickly becomes apparent that all of our lives are ordered by rhythm. One way we can organize this vast array of rhythms is according to our vocations. For example, the main role of a father is to care for his child. This is not accomplished through superior knowledge (though it may help) but through faithful participation in many rhythms. Feeding, clothing, providing, cleaning not once, but over and over each day. In this way, we can say that the vocation of fatherhood and motherhood are not primarily a conceptual role driven by things such as a job description. But rather is a collection of many many rhythms that a parent is responsible for engaging in for the good of their child. This holds true for any vocation you can think of: employee, citizen, pastor, etc. All of these vocations rise and fall based on the health of both natural and created rhythms.
Another way to say this is that life consists of rhythms within relationships. Each relationship comes with its appropriate vocation. If we circle back to the understanding that all good rhythms are a gift from our creator, it is clear that every little thing we do is packed with meaning and significance. This also works the opposite direction as well. When sin and brokenness misshape our rhythms, we rob ourselves and those around us from participating in the goodness of God’s gifts (just think how damaging an unhealthy father or mother is for their child).
As we pull all of this together: vocation as participation in gifts of rhythm, natural and redeeming rhythms, and the GGF cycle, I am reminded of one of the foundational metaphors used for a life with God. We first see it slip away in the fall and hear a mysterious allusion to it with Enoch, in Christ we hear it confidently proclaimed: “as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him” (Colossians 2:6).
Walk, run, stand, sit, dwell, abide, are all used as metaphors for a life in communion with God. The basic character of these descriptions are so different from the hoarding, tower-of-babel-style life promoted all around us. In the simple rhythm of walking, step after step, we are taken somewhere. Yet while the goal is good, the company is better. As we walk in all the different rhythms we find ourselves in, or choose to develop, the purpose of our good works and life becomes clear. It is not in their accumulation that they find worth, but in their formative present. The most important breath I breathe is not my first or last, but the one I take right now.
As we grow and mature, we surely gain strength and speed. However, the beauty of the walk is not in the pace of its completion, but the participation in the presence of God. Participation dearly won for us on the cross. A joyful return to Eden, a walk in the cool of the day with God himself. For the goal and the walk seek the same unfettered communion with God. The walk imperfectly, the goal completely.
Communities of Rhythm
Now that we have wandered and meandered through many thoughts, let us refocus on the impetus of this discussion: the incomplete nature of a program as well as an unstructured relational model for ministry within churches. I believe rhythm and liturgy can serve as a more faithful and focused method of organization for our life together.
This can be illustrated with a prevalent attitude toward work. So much of our work is framed by results. People speed on the road to get places faster. Laundry, dishes, and the lawn can be frustrating because they don’t “stay” done. So much of our lives and time presses us toward an imaginary finish line. The finish line that somehow keeps getting pushed farther and farther back no matter how hard we run.
The drive for productivity and success is maddening in its incessance and elusiveness. A life punching the clock dreary day by dreary day to one day (hopefully) retire and live “free and easy” for a few years before our body gives out is depressing. Not to mention the stress and anxiety it produces for retirees whose retirement looks more like a standing appointment with a doctor than sipping margaritas on a beach.
God’s created rhythms describe a life that looks to the future with a radically different perspective. We are not a people who hope for a brief reprieve before death. We dare to hope for more than that. A hope for a new world fully repaired and restored. One that no longer needs a sun because of Jesus’ bright face (Revelation 21:23).
But the future does not stay off at the end of our life. In the hands of God the stream of time is beautifully bent to bring the past into the future and the future into the present. We are extended forgiveness today as if it were the first Easter morning. Forgiveness that makes us as white as the day of consummation. Through the power of Christ, we inhabit the now and the not yet.
Consequently, the struggle of Chrisitan living is not so much in the ascent or understanding of these grand realities but in the way that they are experienced within the sun’ rise and set. Every bought and washed saint of Jesus still wakes up a sinner each morning. All of us hear the call of Babel’s tower to build our own little kingdom. But we also hear the call to walk with Jesus.
The Dance of the Kingdom
But what does any of this look like when we come back around to thinking about the embodiment of church communities? I think this is where the potential for a shift in paradigm begins to become apparent. When we look at our lives and the world as a vast collection of rhythms, things begin to look a little different. A short personal survey can often turn up the fact that the verbal and mental commitments we make do not always line up with the rhythms of our lives.
A core example of this is simply our commitment to Scripture. Any young child in a church can tell you the Bible is important. Yet the vast majority of confirmands and middle school children that I have asked have never read the Bible with their family. Even within my own life, it is far too easy to allow the worries, hurry, and cares of a day all but push out any consideration of slowing down to read even a sentence from God’s Holy Word. This reality is often derided and bemoaned by God’s people, but that sentiment often seems to stop there. However, when we think in terms of rhythms, we can begin to see that this is not a hopeless plight but a call for God’s people to keep before ourselves the foundation of our identity in Christ. Psalm 1 paints a beautiful picture of our proper attitude toward Scripture: “his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night.” Day and night, the foundational rhythm of the world meeting with the foundational rhythm of God’s people! If I am honest, my life is often far from this picture of delight. All too easily God’s word can become a tool, a burden, or a historic artifact. But time and again I am invited to delight, not once a week, or even once a day, but day and night. If this is truly the goal, how often do we miss the mark in Bible studies, sermons, devotionals, etc? The implications of this are far reaching. In fact, we can go as far as to say that the “products” our churches offer mean nothing if they do not encourage and build toward the rhythm of meditating on God’s word throughout all our day. Anything short of this is incomplete.
Ministry takes on a striking new light when we approach it in this way. We can be more honest about the things we struggle with as we learn to see the dominant rhythms in our lives. How many pastors are addicted to work? How many ignore the health of their own body? When we think in rhythms, these are not insignificant side conversations. Rather the rhythms that shape our life are the witness we share of the Gospel. The going and telling happens in the midst of each normal ordinary day.
To put some more flesh on this, let us consider the marks of the church. We easily profess that the Church is where the Word is preached and heard and Sacraments rightly administered. If we apply the concepts of rhythm and liturgy to this definition, we can quickly see that it speaks to more than simply Sunday worship. How different would a church look that truly organized itself around the rhythms of Word and Sacrament?
Let me explain what I mean. The common thought process around ministry usually starts with either reacting to needs or thinking about a particular group of individuals. But if we start with the redeeming rhythms of God’s church, ministry is not primarily about programs or the care of needs. But rather it starts just like Jesus did with His disciples, “come follow me.” This invitation is one that the church and her leaders should extend to its members and is one that each member should learn to extend to the world around them. This brings needed focus to ministry beyond the platitudinal “making disciples” that really just means coming to all the programs, or chasing felt needs that are fluttering all over the place. Rather, habituating ourselves and others into the good rhythms of God is the extraordinarily ordinary work the Holy Spirit has promised to use.
Let us apply this with one core redeeming rhythm: Confession and Absolution. We practice this in church every Sunday but it often flies by with little to no bridge to our daily life. Church and school communities can quickly become places characterized by many other misshapen rhythms like gossip and power preservation rather than Confession and Absolution. How would we change our community if we used Confession and Absolution not as a small part of Sunday, but an actual organizing principle of ministry? It may sound strange, but what about a board of Confession and Absolution tasked with encouraging and facilitating this core reality into every corner of our Church community?
In addition, when we begin with rhythms, programs and events seem to find a healthier place in our thinking. No longer is the program the hidden god of ministry, but can be a particular embodiment of a deeper invitation to rhythm. In this way, the events we plan and the programs we offer are simply spaces within which to practice the rhythms of God’s people. It is then easy to identify when a particular program has outlived its lifespan if the invitation to rhythm has been replaced or decayed over time.
I must admit that at this point, shifting my mind in this direction has sometimes left me sleepless. So engrained are the current ways of doing ministry. Yet I feel that if we refocus and begin to reorganize - not just Sunday worship - but all of our life together around the promises and rhythms of God, we will begin to see the world with new eyes.
As we seek to live lives shaped by the liturgy of Scripture, we enter into these patterns. We gather on the day of rest as a community. We pray and care. We eat together and cry together. All seeking to dance with the rhythm of Jesus’ heart. As we enter into worship, or get out of bed. Keep an eye peeled for the liturgies of God. His patterns have shaped the very fabric of the universe. A liturgy that calls us into a reality not yet fully realized. The return to Eden. The coming of Heaven on earth. The day we see Him face to face. Liturgical rhythm is a window through which we catch glimpses of eternity.
May His liturgy grab our heart and imagination. May it call us into new life each and every morning.
“He made the moon to mark the seasons; the sun knows its time for setting. You make darkness, and it is night, when all the beasts of the forest creep about. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they steal away and lie down in their dens. Man goes out to his work and to his labor until the evening.”
- Psalm 104:19-13
Footnotes
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Article on Liturgy and discipleship, James Marriott, 10. link ↩
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How the Redeemed World Is Done: Charting the Relationship between Liturgy, Discipleship, and Mission, James Marriott, p. 25 ↩
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Need page quote ↩
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Stewardship: A Theological Perspective, The Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, Office of National Mission (Biermann) ↩