ReJesus: A Wild Messiah for a Missional Church {a book review}

Ok, so I guess word has gotten 'round that I like to read.  One of the fruits of being a consistent blogger is the opportunity to receive books from authors and publishing houses to review. I do my best to be fair and honest. Just 'cuz it's free doesn't mean I need to be a commercial.  I'm willing to respectfully criticize when giving my point of view.  

Unfortunately, this is one of those book reviews where I will be doing just that.

ReJesus: A Wild Messiah for a Missional Church, by Michael Frost and Alan Hirsch, is a second book collaboration by these boys from the land down under.  Their first title together was, The Shaping of Things to Come: Innovation and Mission for the 21st Century Church.  As you can guess, these writers are thought leaders and mentors in what is coined as the missional movement. (google that if you are puzzled about what that means, or read a previous post of mine where I attempt to explain what missional means in non-academic language)

The title and cover of this book totally hooked me. I had a lot of anticipation about what fresh insights would inspire me within the pages of the book.  I loved how the cover of this book suggested a relatable, creative read that would engage my imagination. I am a collage artist in my spare time and so the blurring of images and graphics with the gritty fonts used on the book's cover completetly hooked me. I am quite likely going to print up a copy of the cover and use it in a collage project. Great graphics.

Great, great title. The authors call their work ReJesus, as a means of explaining how the collective body of Christ followers (in the West) known as The Church, need to get back to basics with our Founder. We need to be refound, not reformed or renewed or redeveloped. We need to be rebooted like a computer and return to our original operatng system, which for the Christ follower is Christ himself. Thus, according to Hisrsh and Frost, we need to ReJesus. I love this coined term and I am 100 percent on the same page as the authors in regards to this clarion call. 

My primary criticism of this book is that it's cover did not match it's contents in that the book reads more like an academic text for seminarians. Rich with theological terms, like orthopraxy, pericope, routinization of charisma, missio Dei, etc... it is a text book with a  really cool title and really, really cool cover.  

In all fairness, perhaps this is the readership the authors were targeting. Ok, fine. But I kinda would have liked fair warning about that. In all truthfulness, I would not have read this book had I known it would mostly appeal to my intellect rather than my heart. 99% of the book content was lecture in style. One percent, in my estimation, storytelling. And for me, the most effective means of imparting information and knowledge is through the power of a great narrative. This book is sparse on story.

Having said that, one of the features of the book that I thoroughly enjoyed was the biographical sketches of various men and women who have demonstrated a commitment to following Christ, people who appeared to not need a dose of ReJesus'ing.  This was not so much story telling as it was a kind of shout-out to some of the heroes and "sheroes" (as Shane Claiborne is apt to say!) of the faith.  Ok, cool.

Another fun feature of the book is the graphics within. Not the diagrams or tables, God no, those were boring. Reminded me too much of all those mathematic classes I floundered in during my youth...I still flounder at math....but the authors saw to it that popular and iconic images of Jesus found in art were included. They wrote their observations and reviews of how art has reflected a distorted view of how we in the West have envisioned Christ. A soft, domesticated Savior who is nice to everybody and has good manners. Nope, not the Real Jesus, asserts Hirsch and Frost. And I would agree. Again, I did not have a disagreement with the content of this book. My criticism is that it was overwhelmingly academic in vocabulary, writing style and even the charts and diagrams and tables. It is the style that didn't work for me.

Here's an example of what I mean by overly academic:

Our commitment to exegesis are now so one-dimensional that we longer know how to connect with the Bible in a much more personally engaged manner. We suggest that along side the task of exegesis (which we must do), we need to learn the spiritual art of reading ourselves into the text, participating in it, normally forbidden to the academic approach. We think that we have much to unlearn in regard to our approach to Scripture, and therefore the God of the Scriptures, and much to relearn as we seek to reJesus our lives and churches.  (p. 147)

Don't misunderstand me. I may only be a cleaning woman by trade and a high school graduate by education, but I am intelligent and understand what this means. I understand the premise of the book. I just didn't care for the overly academic approach in giving the message and wonder how much more accessible this book would be to everyday people had everyday language been used instead.  As it stands, I'll be passing this volume along to a woman I know who is a theologian. She may likely appreciate it more than I have.

There were many gleaming moments in the book for me, mostly when the adademic posture was relaxed and the tie was loosened.  My favorite passage in the entire book is found in the last chapter where the authors issue a kind of statement of the difference between loving The Church versus not liking how church is done:

...to be sure, we do not like gatherings of strangers who never meet or know each other outside of Sundays, who sit passively while virtual strangers preach and lead singing, who put up with second-rate psuedo-community under the guise of connection with each other, who live different lives from Monday to Saturday than they do on Sunday, whose sole expression of worship is pop-style praise and worship, who rarely laugh together, fight injustice together, eat together, pray together, raise each others' children together, serve the poor together, or share Jesus with those who have not yet been set free. We do not like the church if it's a fractured organization with hundreds of competing creeds, names, and doctrines, teaching a multitude of contradictory beliefs and insisting on compliance with a raft of recently invented traditions. But if it's a family of Jesus followers striving, no matter how inadequately, to be Christlike, holistic, peace-loving, worshipful, devoted, graced, holy and healthy, then we will love it with every ounce of physical and emotional strength we have.   (p. 172-73) 

I give the content of the book three stars, but the cover and especially that effin' amazing title Five Stars, which averages my review to Four Stars.

And there you have it.

(click HERE for a peek at the table of contents and a sample chapter)

Book Review: Find Your Way Home

A few weeks ago I was invited to read a book put out by the Women of Magdalene, a community of women in the Nashville, Tennesee area who are living together a kind of monastic life inspired by the Rule of Benedictine.  But that's where the similarities end. 

Rather than pious women seeking to withdraw from the world into a life of prayer and reflection, the Women of Magdalene are the bruised daughters of the city who had become trapped into drugs, prostititution and the harsh culture of street life. 

Founded in 1997 by Beccas Stevens, an Episcopal priest, the Women of Magdalene offers a loving route of escape and healing from the degrading cycle of addiction and sexual exploitation. For two years, residents lean into the love of God and one also one another and it is in that spirit of community through which their lives are renewed.

The book, Find Your Way Home, is a first work put out by the Women of Magdalene.  It has been shaped by the contributions of more than a 100 women. Despite this high number of writers, it is not a heavy nor an extensive read. It is an album of snapshots and images collected together into a collage of hope.  

The book is divided into 24 small chapters. Each chapter is made up of short  passages written by the Women of Magdalene. Much of it is reflective in nature, such as this paragraph:

The difference for me was having a home. I had just come out of jail, where I had to bunk with 50 other women. When I walked in, they handed me a key;  and I could see a kitchen with pots and pans and plates. I almost dropped to the ground, I was so thankful to have that key. I didn't want to lose it. It was small, but it kept me going for a long time until the lessons started taking root in me. 

The book is  written from the point of view from the Women of Magdalene with some introduction provided by Becca. She mostly stays out of

sight deferring the page to the sisters who have come from street life to community life by the love and grace of their Creator. 

Find Your Way Home also gives voice to the hard past that each woman has overcome. This is done thoughtfully so as to give the reader context for the gratitude that prevails their special community.   One story focused on the difference a bag of chips had  made in her life:

Before I came to Magdalene, I used to walk around the neighborhood where one of the communities was located. I was scared to go near the house and so were the other women and drug dealers. 

Then one day someone from Magdalene offered me a soda and a bag of chips and told me if I ever got tired there was a place for me. About a week later she gave me more food and kept offering me a place to come and rest. It was the greatest example of hospitality that I have ever witnessed. It finally took root, and one day I crossed the street and made my way up the steps and knocked on the door. 

When I left two years later with a full-time job, a car, and an apartment,  I thought about how it had all started with someone offering me a bag of chips. 

This is a tender book. It has a lot of heart in the text and also some poignant photographs scattered throughout the chapters. 

Find Your Way Home  also  provides readers information about Thistle Farms,  a bath and body-care business run by the residents. This non-profit business provides a vital means for the women to learn new job skills. It also helps provide revenue for their program which now consists of three houses in the Nashville area.

This book would be a wonderful gift for anyone who is interested in the liberation of women from drugs and the sex industry. It is an especially valuable book for those women who find themselves in need of inspiration from their own trapped existence in abuse, addiction or streetlife. Find Your Way Home would be very appropriate and encouraging for women inmates, women in treatment, women who are addicted or homeless, and women who have lost their way. A small book with a big heart, Find Your Way Home is like a lovely  bouquet of purple thistle flowers tied with a pink, silk ribbon. It's an unexpected beautiful read. 

{available at AMAZON for $7.30 a copy!}

I'm a Loser, baby, So Why Don't Ya Kill Me?

A young man came to faith in Christ during the Jesus People movement of the early seventies. He had a radical transformation from living a life of drugs and restless traveling to becoming a drug-free person with a commitment to faith and community. As his faith grew, so did his belief that God had a great plan for his life. He and his new Jesus Freak friends would sit around and talk and pray about what their calling or ministry might be. "Oh man, I think I'm called to teach," was commonly heard among his guy friends, while many of the young women he knew would simply sigh and say,"I'm called to be an encourager."

He  eventually got married and had two kids. He had a good job. His family settled down in a cozy little house in a peaceful neighborhood in a picturesque town in the Pacific Northwest. But inside of him gnawed a sense of dread that all was not right, that despite the loving wife, wonderful children, secure job and warm home, he was somehow missing out on what his life was really supposed to be about.  He suspected he was not living up to his purpose.

And so, he  became depressed, deeply depressed as that  black dog grabbed a hold of his mind and would not let go. He begin to look at this life through a lens of self-loathing and disapointment. "I don't know what God's plan is for my life. I thought I would know by now, and I don't. I think I've missed his will somehow." 

He'd hear the visiting missionaries at his church recount tales of their lives and ministries in fascinating places like the Philippines, Indonesia, Guatamala, Uganda...he longed to go himself, but never felt the call. 

He wondered what a call felt like. He'd heard others talk about feeling called to certain pursuits, like the pastor at his church who said he'd been called to preach since he was seven years old.   Or the worship singer who said God called them to lead worship since they'd become a Christian.   

But he did not know his call. He had no clue what higher road of meaning and usefulness he ought to have taken. 

He took a full inventory of his life, and now, these so many years later after having put his faith in Christ, he realized that his life was simply a mediocre, unremarkable affair that was dull and mundane. 

So he decided one day to change that. He began to buy books and tapes that promised to show him the way to his best life now, to reveal to him in only a matter of days, the purpose he was created for. He set his face to discovering his destiny, to the great things God had in store for him. He searched for life's meaning  in the books and tapes and seminars and sermons.

But still, no marching orders from heaven came. He  sank deeper into his depression, concluding that his ordinary life did not matter. He was of little significance in the great scheme of things. Waves of insignificance washed over him and his entire identity. He began to drown in a sea of self-pity and remorse. How ought he  have lived differently?

His wife was bewildered. Did she not give them a happy home? Were they not living a peaceful, quiet life? What more  could she do for her husband to help him see the loved and blessed man that he was?

But he felt defeated. His life did not matter. He was as good as dead already for there was no great plan for him. Apparently when God was handing out assignments he forgot to give one to him. He had no stories. No accomplishments. No wow factor to dazzle others with the presence of God in his life.   No one was attracted to his life. What did he have to show for his faith?  A house, a family, a job. No big deal. So did everyone else.

He tried to go on a missions trip one year. He thought that perhaps if he could not live overseas and minister than at least he could go for a week to Mexico with the missions team from his church. But he couldn't get the time off of work, and the trip was expensive and difficult to fundraise and finance.  In the end, he took what little money he had gotten together and gave it to one of the young people.  Then, resigned himself to the reality that he had let life pass him by and missed out on the greatness that in his youth he was so certain was his birthright.

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

 He bought into the Big Lie, didn't he?  The lie  that he was born for greatness and that God had a grand plan for his life that was meant to be thrilling.  He totally missed out on the point of the everyday, unspectacular grandness of life happening right in front of his nose. The lust for personal accolades becomes spiritualized into a quest for some kind of greatness that will shatter the common life out of it's coma. But what if the common life is the great life?  What if the ordinary story is the epic narrative of each one of us? What if Jesus lived so much of his life in the  doldrums of simplicity? 

That's the quest that I am on. An uncommon pursuit of the common and profound, co-existing in the same space. That's my calling. 

(post title inspired by BECK)

Motivated to Demotivate

at the bookstore yesterday i noticed quite a few titles about how to be the best you can be. how to live a fulfilling life how to make a difference how to discover your purpose how to define your greatness how to live a truly adventurous life  how to be a better human being better christian better lover better friend better parent.... exhausting isn't it?

basically all those books with all those words displayed on  shelves upon miles of shelves were how to be better at being better.

this does not motivate me. it frustrates me.  what i really need is a dose of demotivation. a swig of selflessness. a message about how to give up the chase for significance and instead embrace the beauty of obscurity. 

i need to be demotivated about accomplishment. and instead be motivated about the unspectacular grandness of the ordinary life lived and breathed in the common days of here and the long, restless nights of now. 

motivation for demotivation is my new rule. 

Small is the New Big (the noble art of being ordinary) Part Two

(Part One Can Be Found HERE)

Small, according to author Seth Godin, means that the owner is closer to the people who work the business and that decisions can be made faster. Smaller, rather than bigger, means that there is more personal involvement and interaction.

When I go to a large, nation wide chain and make a purchase, it is likely that I will not know the store manager’s name nor the cashier. If I have a problem I will need to contact customer service which will bring me to yet another person. The whole experience can be rather soulless. Impersonal. My problem might not be taken seriously. 

But if I go to a small business, like Orlando Candle company on North Lombard Street in my neighborhood, Tanya and Jonathon, the owners, greet me with smiles and hugs and southern drawls of, “Hey you, how you been doin’?”  

We catch up about each other’s lives. They inquire about my family, I ask how business is doing. 

The guy at Target? I don’t even know his name. 

This has mostly not mattered to me. As a consumer, I am usually interested in where I can find the best value for whatever I’m looking for. I’ve enjoyed shopping at large discount stores for most of my life. The wide selection, the rock bottom prices, stores like Wal-Mart and Target help women like me obtain items I need for my household and my family. 

But something has changed in recent years. Suddenly, or maybe it was gradually, I began to prefer going to small shops owned and operated by locals. I used to avoid these kinds of businesses. They were too intimate. I didn’t want to shop alone in a small store with the owner eyeing me the whole time. It felt awkward,  causing me to feel inhibitive. (probably because I have some intimacy issues!)

But now, the very thing that once caused me anxiety as a shopper, is now the very thing that I find compelling. I like getting to know my shopkeepers and hearing their stories. I like knowing that my business is truly helping them right now and today to make a living in our community. Small shops are the new, big rage, especially here in Portland.

Orleans Candle Company is a great example. I noticed their sign up on the busy boulevard not far from my home for several months. But I would just zoom by, even though the sign and the shop looked promising. I’ve been a candle lover for years so I’m always intrigued to explore a new candle place.

I decided that the first year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina was the perfect and most fitting day to finally check their business out. 

When I walked in, I was promptly greeted by an enthusiastic curly brown haired woman who hugged me before I knew what was happening. I know a thing or two about southern hospitality but even Miss Tanya was more enthusiastic than many  southern women I’ve known.

We got to talking and before long, we both stood there crying as she recounted losing her home and business just one year ago. Because of that heartfelt connection, and that she and Jonathon carry a superb line of handcrafted candles and affordable candle supplies, I have been a loyal and happy customer ever since. 

There is a desire in me now, don’t ask me why, to have this kind of intimate, personal interaction with the people I give my money to. 

Why is this? Why not be content with being anonymous when it comes to my shopping needs? Isn’t bigger better since big box stores can offer crazy discounts and wider selection with their volume buying power?

In the foreword of  Michael Shuman's book, The Small-Mart Revolution,  Bill McKibben writes, 

“Wandering into a cavernous Wal-Mart is a desolate experience. Cheap, but cheap in every way. Wandering through town where you depend on the people around you, and they depend on you – that’s called living. Humans were built for it."

Corporate life is fading, from the economy to businesses and faith communities, small is the new preferred size over the mega models. Microtrends  are becoming micro lifestyles as people, including Christians, are discovering that bigger is not necessarily better.

Small is the New Big (the noble art of being ordinary) Part One

In his book, Small is the New Big, economist writer and blogger, Seth Godin observes that big is no longer an advantage.  In fact, he writes, it’s the opposite. “If you want to be big, act small,” he advises. 

Godin’s words are aimed at business people, but it might as well be directed towards church folk and charities. 

Big money and big names or  big groups of people equals big power. All of us would like to have more money, and many of us would enjoy popularity with more people. As a writer, I hope that more people will read my blog and, (one day)  buy my books. Why? Because I believe in the words  I am crafting and want to spread it out to as many people as I can.  

But here’s the thing :  the greatest joy that writers relish is the one on one interaction with readers. It’s the note of encouragement, or the word of thanks that reverberates around the soul of a writer. Selling many books and being successful in a big way is a rush. For sure. (and one day I hope to experience this!)  Yet it’s the heart to heart encounter with another human being where the really good stuff happens.

New York Times best-selling author, William P. Young of The Shack, became an accidental author. He set out to write a story for his family, and somehow it ended up in print and publication and last I heard had sold more than four million copies. 

Paul, as his family and friends call him, lives here  in the Portland area. I’ve had a few opportunities to interview him. I asked him once what was the best part of his new found platform of celebrity. Did he say the money?  Nope. Did he say  the adulation.  Not even. “It’s the people, “Paul answered, “It’s meeting people and hearing their stories, how The Shack has affected them. That’s the best part.”

These are small interactions compared to huge speaking engagements. Small is how to be engaging with another person in a way that will leave a lasting impression. 

Big names and big places are harder to navigate. Their size is a problem. You can’t turn  a Titanic around as quick as a canoe.  

Craigslist, which employs less than 20 people, yet it is one of the most visited sites on the internet. Post Secret, began by one man, Frank Warren, began as a simple art project with a community vision. His site attracts millions of hits and has been voted as one of the top websites on the entire internet. Yet he will not accept advertising. And it is the simple exchange of one postcard, one secret at a time that makes Post Secret one of the most successful community-based art projects ever. Global, yet local. Humongous, yet intimate. Bigger is not always better, and smaller is not more sacred. The simplicity of ordinary people connecting to one another, through books or art or blogs or whatever, it is the common gesture of paying attention to one another that makes the difference. 

End of Part One

International Women's Day Syncroblog: The Secret Weapon of a Teenaged Girl

The world is celebrating International Women’s Day today. It is a day dedicated to the celebration of women’s social, economic and political achievements worldwide. In the United States, this official day of observance is rooted in women’s efforts to campaign for rights to work, vote and hold public office, culminating on March 8, 1908, when 15,000 women marched through New York City demanding shorter work hours, better pay, voting rights, and an end to sweatshop conditions and child labor. It is a day to celebrate justice and to listen to women’s voices.

So today many of us are taking time to listen to the voices of women of faith - looking to the women in the Bible, church history, and those who helped shape our faith. Some of us are blogging in a synchroblog and others are preaching about biblical women in churches. -blogger/writer, Julie Clawson

I messed up on setting my alarm today (dang time change!) and so instead of a luxurious hour to ponder and blog for International Women's Day, I have a mere 10 minutes.

The devil was brilliant when he inspired misogyny. Convince a people group that women are less than in some way or capacity and you have effectively cut that tribe's power base in half. At least by half. Oh yeah, make sure the gender you are neutering are the primary caregivers in the home and of children so they will ensure that the next generation continues the tradition of gender inequality.

I attended Girl Effect at my friend's job site a few months ago. Girl Effect is a Nike Foundation sponsored work that seeks to create opportunities for adolescent girls around the world, particularly developing nations.

Girl Affect cites statistics such as 70% of the world's 130 million uneducated youth are Girls; 25-50% of girls in developing countries become mothers before they are 18; pregnancy is the leading cause of death for teenaged girls around the world.

One of the secret weapons to alleviating poverty and ignorance in nations the world over is the forgotten, overlooked Adolescent Girl. If she is given an education, if she is allowed to remain unmarried and not become a young mother, then her ability to learn a marketable skill to earn income will have a domino affect on her family and likely her village. At the photo show I attended one set of

photographs highlighted a village whose quality of life was increased when a small group of teenaged girls became entrepreneurial. Their creative business savvy, once turned loose, resulted in the entire village moving up the index of poverty. They were all under the age of 18.

Teenaged girls. Who knew that the fate of the world could lie in the hands of one of the most invisible members of most nations. Oh, wait a sec, I think that happened before. Her name was Mary.

An Un-American Prosperity Gospel

I heard a preacher on television address his critics about his nice car and luxurious lifestyle. “I don’t need to take a vow of poverty to be poor, I can be poor without a vow. But what I’ve done is take a vow of prosperity, ‘cause when you’re right with the Lord you can have the treasures of the wicked.”

No feckin' joke. I heard it myself with my own ears.

Ok, check this out: I went to this big church conference at a mega church in my city a few years ago. One of the speakers was a well-coiffed man from the United Kingdom. He was introduced with a lot of accolades, his ministry accomplishments listed like the business dealings of a successful corporate executive about to give a motivational speech, and in some ways it was.

I listened in earnest as he described how when he took the helm of leadership at a fledgling congregation, that he turned everything around and brought it up into one of the hottest, most vibrant churches in all of the UK.

Ok, wow, amazing. I was impressed.

And then, he took a turn in his talk.

He suddenly began to tell us how he trains his people to think about church and attracting more church is to think about it in terms of branding. Branding. Huh?

He began to use business language to describe how to create a loyal customer base. He told us, a room full of mostly white evangelical middle-class and upper middle-class people, how he did not want his church people talking about Jesus. "Tell them about our church," he said.

He was not interested in church planting at that time. Some people drove more than two hours each week to attend service at his mega congregation. He thought this was great…and then he described, going back and forth from business lingo to spiritual vocabulary, how because of his success at obtaining and fleshing out the vision of God, that he could now drive the nicest sports car money could buy in his city that he could get the most expensive hair cut from the best hair dresser in town.

He did look successful. He was very handsome with his hair slicked back and wearing an impeccable outfit of well-made clothes. He looked like he could have been on the cover of GQ.

Good looks and style are not a big deal. That's not the point. That this pastor, this spiritual leader would openly and blatantly say, "I tell my people,' don’t talk about Jesus. Tell them about our church,'" it was obscene.

I sat in my chair fuming at the distortion of the kingdom of God. Is this what Jesus meant for us?
Is this what He gave his life for?

If the guy had not have been British I would have thought he was a duped American who substituted the American dream for the gospel of Jesus Christ. Apparently the American dream is not unique to America.

Megachurch Movement Needs to Shrivel Up

Smaller churches, like smaller businesses, use less resources. They are more sustainable. A smaller church provides less hiding space for the introvert. Those who crave or insist on anonymity can certainly be accommodated in a large church. But those who are looking for connecting to a church like a tribe or family are better served in smaller congregations.

No matter how many homegroups a megachurch might tout, no matter how many smaller ministries are tailor made to bring people together in smaller clusters, which is a good start in my opinion, yet the unrefutable reality is that Big Church equals Big Drain on resources. More energy. Bigger budget. Bigger building equals bigger rent. Bigger staff equals bigger staff budget.

Bigger is not always better, and in the model of the church, it is actually a new phenomena. In light of more than 2,000 years of church history, the megachurch movement of the late twentieth century is new. And terribly flawed.

Ordinary is Cool

The Big Lie puts pressure on me to make a difference in a big way. Small is despised. Common kindness uncounted.

But it's the small everyday mercies of human compassion that keep our hearts soft towards one another. It's the small things that are the tipping point.

We've been lied to. Ordinary is cool and common every day kindness is the new sexy.

from Demotivation: The Unspectacular Grandness of an Ordinary Life

A Teen Review of The Bridge (The Most Kick-Butt Church I've Ever Been To)

My high school freshman daughter attends a small Catholic school here in North Portland. She had to write a paper about a church so she wrote this up about The Bridge. It's insightful and whimsical, written in such a way that it proves to me that even though Rose is quiet at church, she is absorbing everything. I just had to share this with my blog readership!

The Bridge: The Most Kick-Butt Church I’ve ever Been To

by Rose Hogeweide

The Bridge is not your normal church. In fact, it’s one of the most un-normal places I have ever been to. The music is loud and rambunctious, the community is mostly artistic hipsters with tattoos and dreadlocks, the scene is chaotic, and the people aren’t wearing “Church Clothes”.

This is my church. Welcome to the Bridge…


I remember walking into a crowded, smelly old ballroom and thinking that my mom and dad were joking. This wasn’t church. It didn’t look anything like a church! It looked more like a messed up after party to me. My parents led me to our seats, which by the way were plastic lawn chairs, and then we just kind of sat there, soaking in the scene of our new church.

I noticed that there were hardly any kids, none of them being my age, and the ones that were there were running around like they didn’t have a care in the world. As I watched a little red headed girl chasing her brother around and around, a sound, unlike any other church sound I’d ever heard, broke my train of thought into a million tiny pieces. BAM! Worship had started.

Worship at the Bridge is unlike any kind of worship I’d ever experienced. It’s almost hard anymore to worship God with quiet song and music. It now seems too polite and formal. At the Bridge, we are all about saying what’s on our mind, and in our hearts. We don’t need to sugar-coat it. If you need to scream, SCREAM!
No one will judge you for it.

If you need to dye your hair a hundred
million times, each time being a different
color, go ahead. It’s your hair, who’s to tell you what you can and can’t do with it. If you feel like flailing your arms in a rhythmic pattern, as your form of worship and dance, we welcome it. We even have a spot up front for you to do that in.

My mom says: “At the Bridge, the music is a rushing wall of sound, like a tsunami, that either sweeps you up or lays you flat. The first few weeks we hooked up at The Bridge all I could do was stare and hold on to my seat. Sometimes I would end up outside on the sidewalk with my son who would feel overwhelmed by the sensory explosion.”

I think this is a perfect way to describe worship. Worship at the Bridge is like a loud, surging, terrifyingly beautiful tsunami. But when it’s compared to the soft, sweet, humble, baby waves of the rivers and lakes, it scares the hell out of you. It’s wonderful, though, to be scared by worship sometimes. It helps you to think straight. To remember who you are, and why we as Christians worship God.

Here’s a sample of how we worship God:

Carry Us Over- Agents Of Future
(song by Kelly Schaffer)

Jesus turn this wine back into water. So we can quench our poor thirsty souls. This deserts dry as hell and getting hotter. The truth is only your love makes us whole. So carry us over the finish line we can see the end but our feet are so tired. Don’t know how to be sober, Jesus carry us over.

This was one of my favorite times at one of our worship services. The entire church was involved in this song one way or another. It was powerful, and awesome, and beautiful. This is an example of why I love my church so much. It’s cool to Google that song and hear it over and over again, lapsing back into sweet memories of churchy goodness. You’re able to hear many different voices, one of my favorites being our friend Joel singing loud and proud at the end of the song.


As for symbolism, I think in my Church’s case, we are the symbol. A group of people gathered around on the Sabbath, worshiping God and being their selves. That’s what church is about. It’s not about the physical symbols that you can see and touch and eat and smell. It’s about the personal, mental, and emotional symbols that we as human beings form in our hearts and minds all of the time.

My church doesn’t have one symbol. It has a collection of unique symbols from each person. Together these symbols help glue together the community of our church. We are like family. Well, we are a family.

Now, over three years later, my family and I are devoted members of the Bridge. As I now sit in my seat, knowing just about everybody’s names, and as I watch that feisty red headed girl chasing her brother around and around, I no longer question whether or not the Bridge could classify as a house of God. It’s the Godliest place I have ever been. Sure it’s chaotic, and tattoo infested, but it’s awfully wonderful. No- it’s Godfully wonderful. And God is always there.

My church is the place to hang on Sunday, when God has to make his daily rounds around the world. You can always feel his presence, especially during worship. Sure there’s a sermon, and that’s great, and sure there’s an offering, and prayer. But it’s the worship that sticks out to me. It’s what makes me get up at 10 a.m. on my weekend off.

Touched by a Heroin Addict

I stumbled upon this little blurb tonight while looking for something else. About three years ago I wrote an article for The Oregonian about tattooed pastors. I interviewed several Portland area pastors including Ken and Deborah Loyd of The Bridge (and that's how they came into my life and The Bridge came into my family's life...), Shaun Garman of Red Sea and Clark Blakeman of Imago Dei. This blows me away what my blogger pal from the City Business Church blog reported on. Crazy. This is a very good moment in my life to receive this kind of encouragement. I am full of gratitude. And curiosity. I wonder whatever happened to that guy...

Praise Report
Posted on May 11th, 2006 by Reformed Pope

Do you remember Pam? She's the one who wrote the article in the Oregonian called Ethics & values/Pastors get into tattoos

Well, listen to this. I just received word that a heroin addict read Pam's article, called Imago Dei Community Church, and got in touch with one of the pastors from the article. The guy's in the hospital and so the pastor went to see him. He prayed to receive Christ that night and is now making many friends at Imago Dei.

Imagine that.