Category: Church

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If It Hadn’t Been for Cotton-Eyed Joe

By Amy Spiegel

While I was enjoying Thanksgiving break at my folks, my dad pointed out an article in the local paper about a Christian country music artist and his idea for making church more accessible to country music fans. Why not have church in a bar? Not just any bar but a country line dancing bar? The musician has convinced his pastor and congregation to support the idea and has begun organizing monthly services. The services take place on Monday nights since those they are trying to reach are sleeping in on Sunday morning.

My first inclination was to dismiss this approach as yet another American, evangelical “innovation.” But I didn’t. Maybe it was the result of the residual warm feelings of Thanksgiving. Maybe my critical thinking skills had been dulled from too much dressing and cranberry salad.

Whatever the cause, I tried to set aside my skepticism and imagine how I might react differently if this Coors Light Church was taking place in a beer garden in Berlin rather than a line dancing bar in my hometown. Would I be so quick to criticize some missionary in a foreign land who was trying to work with the culture instead of against it? Was it a form of my pride which was offended by the idea that my country is a mission field?

Of course, we all should be trying to reach the lost. But somehow when I think of friends off saving the lost in Thailand or Columbia or some other far away and exotic place, the lost of those countries seem different somehow. I imagine them living in a darkness of disbelief based on ignorance while the lost of America seem more willfully disobedient. Surrounded by churches of all sorts and sizes and the freedom to worship as they please, it feels naïve to see them in the same light as those who have never heard the name of Jesus, never read God’s words in the Bible, never heard the Good News. But geography has little influence on the slavery under which so many labor. Surely the human heart is no more or less rebellious in the heart of the heartland as it is the depths of the Amazon jungle. We all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, right?

In my imagining, I began to examine what it said about us as a nation that this type of service would appeal to so many. (The article reported that more than 600 people attended the first service.) I conjured up the cultural orientation which might take place in order to ready missionaries for ministry among us. While certainly southern, country line dancers are a distinct subculture. I think a few of the lessons can be learned about the indigenous population as a whole. Perhaps keeping these things in mind can help us as we search for the lost sheep among us and try to keep from becoming lost ourselves.

  • We are a people desperate for relationship. Though the message was not printed in its entirety, it was summed up by the pastor as basically “God loves you and wants to have a relationship with you.” Now I don’t know exactly what type of relationship this pastor is talking about but I am pretty sure that God doesn’t want just to have you “friend” Him on Facebook and move on with your day. And there lies the source of our starvation for relationship. We don’t want to give up anything, of ourselves, of our time, of our resources in order to relate to other human beings or even the Creator of the universe. One of the premises of the service was that people wouldn’t want to give up being out all night long on Saturday in order to attend church on Sunday morning. If we are to reach our culture, we must convince them that in order to fill the great void of loneliness from which they suffer, they must be willing to make great sacrifices.
  • We care a great deal about our own comfort. The article stressed that the people in attendance were those who wouldn’t feel comfortable in a normal church setting. Why is that exactly? Are churches really such scary places? I have been to a lot of churches in my time and while a few have been cold or intimidating, I have often found the problem with churches is that they are too friendly. Jim and I once made the mistake of visiting a small church struggling to attract new blood. I didn’t think we would get out alive, or at least without promising to come again. So what is it about church that scares people? Maybe it isn’t the other people they fear encountering, but rather they fear encountering themselves. There is little time for self-reflection in our media-soaked society and sitting a pew for an hour or two certainly gives one time to take stock.
  • We don’t care too much for the sacredness of place. We are a nation of transitory people, always on the move and so the idea that place has meaning and value is odd to us. Combine our nomadic ways with our utilitarian tendencies and it is little wonder that people have no problem worshipping the Almighty amidst Jeff Gordon signs and mechanical bulls. (I can’t confirm the mechanical bull, but I have my suspicions.) I know God is everywhere but I do think the way and where of worship matter too. It’s why I make my boys wear shirts with collars and jeans without holes on Sunday morning. And it’s why we don’t pile up on the couch to worship but pile into our van and enter a place of worship. But certainly we need to take care to make all feel welcome in that place, sacred though it may be.

The name of the establishment in which this service took place is “Cotton-Eyed Joes” and since I read the story I haven’t been able to stop mumbling a portion of the song by the same name. I thought to cure myself but actually looked up the lyrics and stumbled across this verse “He brought disaster wherever he went; The hearts of the girls was to Hell, broken, sent; They all ran away so nobody would know; And left only men ’cause of Cotton-Eye Joe.” Rather ominous words for a fluffy country song but perhaps there is a warning there for us all. For just as we should be seeking the lost, wherever they may be found, there is another who is seeking them as well. He brings only disaster and brokenness. And if we don’t find the lost, he certainly will.

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Where Muslims are Getting it Right

By Amy Spiegel

The conspicuous appearance of red and yellow amongst the green leaves along the highway has forced me to admit that summer is no more. I can deny it all I like but the months of late night movie watching, sleeveless dresses and ceiling fans are behind us. Early bedtimes, leggings and cardigans and my down comforter stand ready to take their place.

A sigh of remembrance escapes like the birds flying south as I fondly remember this summer’s highlights. Despite the scorching temps, one of those highlights for the kids and I was our visit to the Indiana Dunes. I marveled at their seemingly endless energy while I kicked back and indulged in one of my favorite activities—people watching. There are plenty of people to watch on the shores of Lake Michigan. Since we spend most of the summer on the shores of Taylor Lake, the quantity of people is a bit of shock, not to mention the amount of flesh most of those people reveal. Just as I was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious in my tankini, however, there arrived on the scene a notable exception—a large Muslim family. The women were clothed from head to toe, but this didn’t stop them from racing into the water and having a blast. Having watched young (and old) women pull and tug at their suits all day, it was refreshing to see women enjoying the water without the awkwardness that generally accompanies going out in what is essentially underwear.

This got me to thinking about our fellow monotheists and what we, as evangelical Christians might learn from their example. Here are a few areas where, it seems to me, many Muslims are getting it right, perhaps more right than we are, in fact:

  • Modesty:  I’m not as familiar with what is going on in the Abercrombie and Fitch of mainstream culture and dress as I once was, but as a frequent visitor to a conservative evangelical school I can tell you that we are losing the battle for the modesty among our young women. They might not be going as far as their secular sisters, but they are going far enough. The funny, or sad, thing about it is that while they might argue that it is their right to enjoy the bodies they have been given, if they are enjoying themselves, they look very uncomfortable doing so. They are constantly adjusting bra straps and tugging at hemlines. Unlike the young Muslim women I saw on the beach, they seem consumed with self-consciousness about their bodies. I am not suggesting that Christian women adopt the tradition of the hijab, but surely there is reasonable compromise between concealing one’s body completely and going around with your butt cheeks hanging out. The irony is that so often people criticize the extreme modesty of the Muslim faith for taking away the individuality of women. Ladies, I assure you, it isn’t your individuality men are valuing when your bodies are on display for all to see. While there is certainly a case to be made against the culture of Islam for its mistreatment of women, I am not sure we are treating our sisters and daughters much better when we surrender them to the vice of immodesty.
  • Family Size:  It is strange that with a tag like “evangelical” we don’t seem to emphasize the most natural, and statistically most effective, method of evangelism—making disciples through procreation. The average Muslim family has three children and, while I couldn’t find a statistic specific to evangelicals, if our church is any indication, the American church falls much closer to the average of less than one per household. I know there are myriad factors that play into the extremely personal and individual decision of family size but it should be something that is wrestled over and treated with all seriousness. And it isn’t just the number of children we have, but the value placed on home life in general. For thousands of years, Christians have deeply valued home as a place of instruction, nurturing and refuge. Now our external focus challenges these basic values.
  • Devotion to Spiritual Disciplines:  The greatest distinction between Christianity and other religions is the idea of grace. This counterintuitive concept that the price for our salvation has been paid not by the sweat of our own brow, but by the blood of God Himself seems too good to be true. And yet is it true and it is good. So why does this good news not drive us to our knees each day in sheer wonder and gratitude? Why does it not see us forsaking the pleasures of food and material possession in order to see this gracious God more clearly? Why do many folks who reject the notion of grace set a better example of religious devotion? Why are they, who have no assurance of pardon or forgiveness, the ones praying five times a day? We are often labeled “fundamentalists” when we seem to have forgotten the fundamentals of our faith. Certainly, I mourn for those who devote themselves to empty rituals that get them no closer to heaven, but I mourn for myself and others when we forsake spiritual discipline altogether and get no closer to Christ.
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Stubbing My Toe on the Stumbling Block of Tradition

By Amy Spiegel

I love tradition. If ever we do anything the same way twice (the same holiday routine, the same vacation spot, the same meal two Saturdays in a row), I immediately want to canonize it and say that we have to do it the same way every year. When Christmas time rolls around, I try to find as many ways as humanly possible to “create” tradition while Jim huddles in a corner somewhere, waiting out the storm of my enthusiasm. We have to listen to the same Christmas CD while putting up the tree, eat the same foods, use the same ornaments, etc. This also applies to my church-going routine. If I could convince my family to attend a church that played only hymns from the first century A.D. sung in Latin, I would do it. I am greatly comforted by the knowledge that if I am in error, I can blame some guy with a funny name who died thousands of years ago who may or may not have shaken the hand of our Lord and Savior. Sadly there are no such churches in our area so we have settled on a reformed church with one foot solidly planted in traditional worship and maybe a big toe and a few smaller appendages dabbling in the territory of the more contemporary.

Anyhoo, when we are visiting my greatly esteemed parents, we have occasion to visit their church. It is a good church and the preaching is excellent but the worship style is definitely a stretch for my traditional tastes. On a recent visit, I was struggling with both the style and content of a string of choruses, when a realization hit me like a censer between the eyes. (According to Wikipedia a censer is a small metal or stone dish used for burning incense which in the Roman Catholic Church is suspended on chains.) The reason I object to so many of the modern choruses is what I perceive to be an overemphasis on our emotional response to God. It isn’t that I am against emotion in general. (Just ask my kids, who enjoy forcing me to read “The Giving Tree” or “The Story of the Three Trees” just to watch me blubber like a whale on hormones at the end of each.) I love classic hymns because they tend to focus our attention on God’s attributes and his saving works, and my pigheaded self-centeredness needs all the refocusing it can get. But what I hadn’t realized was that although there are certainly some doctrinally justifiable objections to a number of choruses making the rounds these days, I was not responding based on such reason. I was responding with my emotions. I don’t like that style and it doesn’t make me feel like I am worshiping God.

I believe that there are some objective standards by which we can evaluate sacred music. (Like, for starters, could we have an actual melody that most of us can sing? And is it mandatory to repeat the chorus fourteen times? Just a thought. Not that I am bitter or anything.) But I do believe that there is a lot of room for diversity here, and we (okay, I) need to be careful that worship is what it is meant to be—an expression of our obedience to God, not an expression of how we are feeling at the moment. And if I like to worship in the traditional (read: correct) ways and you like to worship in the contemporary (read: slightly less correct but perfectly within the bounds of orthodoxy) ways, then that’s okay. Yes, we should hold one another accountable to standards of excellence in both content and form. But within those standards there is a great deal of room for diversity, just as there is a great deal of diversity within the body as a whole. After all, we are a body of many parts, not just one big toe.