Since my upcoming thoughts are rooted entirely in my theology of worship, I should start by providing some background on what I believe is going on in worship. Trying to keep it brief, when we gather as a community, we gather so God can act graciously and we can respond.

So, God acts by showing up, we respond. God acts by announcing forgiveness, we respond. God acts by speaking to us in his Word, we respond. God acts by giving us the body and blood, we respond. God acts by blessing us in the benediction (and hopefully we respond in our lives when we leave the church building).

Now, as I've planned various alternative worship of services with this general understanding of worship, I've always leaned towards having a single narrative that was aimed at telling this story of God's action and our response ... although, most of the time, that also demands a pre-story to point out why God has to act. So, when I plan, the music, the Scripture readings, the preaching, and everything else all weave together into a single story, so, when I saw this approach, I freaked a bit, because there is no way for the music to faithfully point into our out of the preaching portion of the worship narrative because they've been divided and the story is now broken up.

However, then I began to think about the traditional Lutheran liturgical setting where this pattern of acting and responding happens repeatedly, or, in the case of this unconventional idea, it could happen twice, once in preaching and once in music. What do you think, given my theology of worship, could that be a functional approach to something like this?

As the TIME Magazine article in response to the Pew report closes with:

The survey's biggest challenge is to the theologians and pastors who will have to reconcile their flocks' acceptance of a new, polyglot heaven with the strict admission criteria to the gated community that preceded it.

Personally, I don't have much of an issue with this, after all, I want people who come from a variety of background approaches and life to gather each week to hear what Jesus has to say. In other words, I don't think the gate to the entry to the church should have been there in the first place.

But in Paul's letter to the 1st Corinthians, he writes, "For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes" (11:26). When we consider this in light of Paul's broader work, we get the idea that, by "Lord's death", he's referring to the redemptive work of Jesus on the cross. In the language of my last post, he's talking about the second level, stuff that, according to Pew, most of us ignore.

So, that brings up an interesting question. If eating the body and blood of Christ involves a proclamation of the second level, and according to the recent Pew report most who bear the title Christians don't really view it as a second level faith, who should be coming to the table?

I should pause here and say that I belong to a faith tradition that adheres to closed communion, a practice rooted in the traditions of the Early Church where, following the Scripture reading and sermon, those who were not Christian or were preparing for baptism were dismissed, the doors were closed, and the service continued with the Lord's Supper. This is because we believe that, in a way we can't explain, in the bread and wine we physically receive the body and blood of Christ, the forgiveness of sins, and the strength to live out our Christian life.

Well, in seminary, we were told that the easiest way to determine who should come to the table would be those who profess membership to our denomination (which, dogmatically speaking, is very second level). The idea was that they linked themselves to that body and therefore, in addition to a public linking to a second level confession, they should have been taught that faith as well. However, according to the details in the Pew report, 78% of LCMS Lutherans think multiple religions will bring you to the same destination, which means they aren't holding to a second level confession. (thanks Lutheran Kantor). It seems that somebody simply saying, "I go here." in no way means, "I believe this."

So, how should a pastor respond? Here's my solution, tomorrow, I'm going to do some teaching right before communion. I'm going to talk about the Pew report, the idea of the second level, and invite people to the Lord's Table who wish to "proclaim the Lord's death." I'll also give people permission to stay in their seats if they aren't comfortable making that profession yet. I wonder if anyone will stay seated?

It sounds a bit odd to describe my top talent as a talent, but according to the strengths finder, my dominant talent is connectedness. So, what does that mean? Basically it means that I'm a systems theory kind of guy who doesn't see the individual parts, but rather how all of the parts work together.

There are a few places where this has come in handy for ministry. One is systematic theology, which, in turn, really help in the writing of the elemental life which is, essentially, a basic, life application, systematic.

It's also been quite helpful in hermeneutics because, when I read a passage of Scripture, I can't help but think of it in light of the entire Biblical story. Of course, the primary place I use the interpretation of Scripture is preaching and the 27-Hour Service on the fshbwl.

For me, the biggest challenges with having this talent comes when talking with people who don't have any sense of the butterfly effect. People who see commonalities amongst various cultures, things like religion, marriage, and laws, not as a sign of some distant common story, but as nothing more than coincidentally matching cultural constructs. The same could be said for people who have no sense of responsibility towards others and or feel a overarching human imperative to love our neighbors.

Since this is so foundational in the way I see and understand the world, it's the place I naturally start from when talking about faith. At the same time, when people don't see things this way, it can be a blast to help connect the dots. In many ways, this is what I've been doing in ongoing conversations with people in downtown Denver.

So, does anyone else out there see things this way? What other ministry benefits do you see? What other challenges come to mind?

As I was walking to the office today I noticed a group of people who were in a line along the 16th Street Mall, standing on chairs, and all wearing shirts that read, "Religion is a lie." There was also a link to this site on their shirts.

I figured out fairly quickly what they were doing. They were marking religion as a set of man made rules and regulations and promoting a relationship based Christianity. However, a lot of people along the mall weren't sure what was going on and would engage them in conversation, giving them an opportunity to share their faith.

While I'm not sold on their definition of religion and think that, at some point you need some kind of lens to view Scripture through (the Early Church called this the "rule of faith"), I can say that their approach is a step up from the hunt people down and beat them with Bible verses that occurs far too often along the mall.

Of course, you still have the challenge that it's a one time hit that lacks clear opportunities for follow-up, but at least it's less inclined to build up walls that prevent future conversations.

I just booked plane tickets for Anita, Robbie, and I to head back to Windsor, CA where I used to serve as a Director of Christian Education. While the primary purpose behind the trip is to attend my brother-in-laws wedding, it's also fairly standard for me to preach at the church where I used to serve when I'm in town and, since the eLife is now out, I'm also going to do a book signing.

In the past, preaching there has always been odd because I've changed a lot since I left town 6 years ago. As a result, I always feel like my sermon there has been one huge, "I'm really sorry for most of the crap I taught back then." I typically don't put it that way, but it's certainly what is going through my mind the whole time.

You see, at the time, I was really buying into a pop-evangelical theology that could be summarized with the "My Heart, Christ's Home" mentality. I taught that Jesus has saved you and now you better get your crap together and make him the Lord of your life. This was combined with seeing the Bible as an instruction book for living out the Christian life.

The problem with this is that, beyond making grace something like a fast cash store where it's free now but you're going to get slammed with exorbitant payments later, is that it puts the impetus for spiritual growth on the person (as opposed to the work of the Spirit) and, as a result, anybody who isn't growing must not be trying hard enough. This leads to all kinds of judgment within the church. In addition, as we've seen with so many spiritual leaders who have fallen, this really encourages those who are Christian to hide their sin and put on a whole stigma of self-righteousness (something I haven't been immune to in my lifetime).

Of course, this time, things are even more odd because of the eLife and the introduction to the book where I talk about my engagement to Anita, some of the choices we made in an attempt to live out my theology at the time, and how it gave us a rough foundation for our marriage ... something we're still reworking almost 7 years later. I mean, I've always felt like I've been apologizing before, but now, there it is, in print, for whomever to read.

Of course, I'm sure I'll say the same thing about something I wrote in the eLife in another 6 years.