I was at a worship concert a few years ago with a friend who remarked that the leader up front was singing in such a beautiful and un-follow-able manner that all my friend felt encouraged to do was to sit back and enjoy the leader’s worship of God. “Why do I need to worship? He’s worshiping for me, and he’s looking like he’s having quite a moment!” My friend was saying that sarcastically, but fairly, to point out precisely what von Allmen here is illuminating. Sometimes we, as leaders, can get so caught up in either our own special “worship moment” or in the glory of the music or service-structure that we fail to realize that we’ve left on a train that no one else is on. Sometimes, the worship band can either be so amazing or so loud (and I honestly believe, from experience, that these thresholds are context-specific and case-sensitive) that they become, in effect, the only ones worshiping in the room. The rest (the silent majority…the congregation) become passive receptors and spectators.
Jeremiah Steepek is hired to be the new pastor of a megachurch. On the Sunday that he was to be recognized, this sly pastor transformed himself into a haggardly old beggar and walked around the 10,000 member church for 30 minutes. His experience was not good. He then shocked his egg-faced congregation by walking on stage—in full homeless garb—as he was introduced as their new pastor.
This story has been circulating through the interwebs recently. If you do a little research you’ll quickly discover that this story isn’t true. There is no guy named Jeremiah Steepek that pastors a megachurch. And the picture floating around of this pastor in his beggar outfit is that of a real homeless man living in Richmond.
So, it’s not a real story…but what if it was? I have to wonder…
How was his second sermon?
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug—now in LEGO form!
This. Is. Great:
HT: Kevin DeYoung
My wife and I once attended a Reformed Baptist Church that fits my current definition of a “small” church. There was no worship leader. No choir. No instruments. No overhead projection. No cool lights. The building was plain-Jane. Yet their gathering was powerful. Why?
On the one hand they had all the essential elements needed for corporate worship. Yes, some things are required: the word of God read and preached, the prayers and songs of God’s people lifted up in the name of Jesus Christ, and the ordinances of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. But having these elements in place is not enough. With these things there must be focus, depth, clarity, purpose, or passion.
There seems to be some sort of (urban?) myth that working with the poor is especially ‘hard’. As if somehow in the pantheon of Christian ministry ours is out on its own as the difficult one. That, somehow, our kind of ministry needs your prayers more than other kinds of ministries. That our workers are ‘hardier’ than any others. That to live and work in a poor area is a larger sacrifice than to live and work in a more upmarket area. I don’t know if it is because of how we communicate the needs. I don’t know if it’s because of the stories we sometimes tell of individuals saved out of frightening circumstances.