Ladies, you know when a woman “compliments” your outfit then hits you with one of these: “I wish I could be that brave to try and pull that off.” And just like that the compliment now sounds more like an insult.
That’s sorta how it’s felt being called “brave” while trying to plant a non-traditional church. Said under the right context and in the right tone, I swear what they’re actually calling me is “crazy.” And truly, I don’t blame them.
Many days, the two words feel pretty synonymous within my own mind.
And the honest truth is it has taken quite a bit of both to get here. A little bit of bravery and a sprinkle on top of lunacy turns out to be the perfect combo for trying to forge out new holy ground. And while I am more than comfortable taking credit for the bravery, I am going to go ahead and give credit where credit is due for the going insane: that was all the church’s doing.
The Church I will have given the entirety of my young adulthood and 20s to, turns out actually did give me something back in return. They gave me my why. And that why has been the reason for every step of courage and madness I’ve taken thus far.
Discipleship
I have belonged to 11 different ministries/churches, spanning 5 different denominations, within 3 different cities over the course of my life. A friend asked me not too long ago the amount of “bible study groups” I had been a part of in that time and my brain near short-circuited.
All this to say, I have clearly lived well into my rebellious Jezebel persona, cause when it comes to the Church: I’ve gotten around.
And if there is one thing my spiritual mut of a religious past taught me and proved to me time and time again, it’s that we are all far more similar than we would like to think we are.
I have been warned away from Bible churches who in turn warned me away from Spirit led ones.
I have watched non-denominational church’s praise their own ability to be authentic and genuine as they distance themselves from the High-Church denominations who hold a historic mysticism and curiosity that is the very definition of spiritual sincerity.
I have seen the shocked face of an SBC pastor when I tell him I came from the Acts 29 network and giggled in thinking that they too would hold the same exact face if they knew I was seeking help from the SBC.
It’s honestly been a hoot forever feeling like a secret operative within church cultures that have no idea how close they are in attitude, posture, and especially make-up to the very church cultures they ridicule, run from, and even despise.
And if there is one similarity I could say I have experienced throughout, one that forever kept me looking on towards the next:
It’s a lack of genuine discipleship.
In all of our differences, arguments, and preferences, ironically, the one thing we seem to all have in common is a deeply rooted inability to actually equip, foster soul-level growth, and send out into the world for the purpose of mission the very people that make up these 380,000 churches (thanks google).
Turns out no matter your worship style, baptism preference, communion elements, or Sunday morning regalia, what such practices produce is a whole lot of the same result:
A lot of consumers, and very few participants.
A lot of programs, and very shallow relationships.
A lot of preaching, and very little practice.
A lot of production, and very few daily lives changed.
A lot of growth, and very little fruit.
And so maybe, if we are seeing the same results across the board— no matter the adjustments to practice and preaching, or views on secondary matters, or conservative or progressive culture— if we continue to end up in the same spot over, and over, and over again, maybe it’s time to admit nothing is actually “wrong” with the church systems we hold dear.
Maybe they are functioning exactly as they should and are producing exactly what they ought to.
Maybe the church as we know it was simply built to produce consumers, programs, preachers, productions, and weekly attendance growth.
And maybe no amount of trying to make it do or create something different will result in any actual change.
Maybe no part of our Sunday-morning-lead-pastor-program-centric, church model is or ever was built for the purpose of making disciples.
And while many pastors, church staff, and denominations care deeply about discipleship, until they are able to shift and re-think the entire model as a whole, in some pretty radical ways, the only option will continue to be shoving discipleship into a mold it simply can’t be fit into. Sure, segments of it may settle into the given configuration— people can learn through sermons, be grown through small groups, be challenged on mission trips, etc.— But so long as the sermon, the small groups, and the mission trips are what we continue to care most about upholding, discipleship will continue to be just a happy lil’ accident rather than an intended goal we chase after heart and soul.
All other methods through which people learn best will remain unexplored.
All other areas of growth people actually need most will continue to go unrecognized.
All other environments where people can be challenged gradually, tenderly, intentionally, and for the long haul will continue to be overlooked.
In order for the church to truly begin to take discipleship seriously, she has to be open to exploring new modes and methods through which the Church can truly center around the building up and equipping of saints. She needs to be able to explore non-Sunday-centric models that actually expect and can only function if everyone is a participant and all gifts are being utilized to their fullest potential.
Money
Now, I am the first to admit and am currently knee deep in the midst of the very real and difficult implications of a radically divergent church model. The most substantial of which comes as no surprise: money.
Why are churches so beholden to the Sunday-centric model? Why, despite a growing hunger and clear need for authentic and long-term discipleship do churches still refuse to adjust? Money!
Now I want to be clear, I am not speaking of the insatiable greed of ultra-mega-church pastors flying around on private jets and using their church fame to sell books that fund their million dollar homes and estates. I am speaking of the barely making ends meet pastor who already sunk his single income family into debt while attending seminary and who only has a home because of his church’s housing allowance.
When even pastors like these rely fully on the church to fund an already meager income, money is plenty reason to not feel the freedom to explore other options.
{insert entire thesis on how the church industrial complex is trapping men into a literal hell from which they cannot escape by bankrupting them and calling it sacrifice and keeping them beholden to an endless cycle of patriarchy and abuse that is literally killing them and calling it pastoral ministry. But I digress…}
At the end of the day, discipleship— the kind Jesus modeled for us, the slow and steady investment into a committed few, the constant taking pausing and re-directing and re-explaining, and having room for trying and failing— it is simply not by any stretch of the imagination profitable. And church as we know it needs to be profitable in order to be sustained.
Because church as we know it needs a building and a professional worship leader and AV equipment and a quality live stream and a stellar kids program and a salary to provide entirely for a family of 4 (because wifey can’t work, she needs to minister too, but don’t worry at least we won’t have to pay her a salary because she’s a girl lol).
And because a church needs such, the church needs tithes.
And because the church needs tithes, the church needs lots of butts in seats.
And because the church needs lots butts in seats, it simply cannot fully focus and give proper attention toward the getting people off their butts, out of their seats, and into the world to actually be the church.
It’s all very understandable, and nuanced, and complicated, and easy to hold a lot of space and empathy for.
But it can also all be very frustrating, disheartening, maddening, and easy to want to burn it all down when we remember what the Church was called to be and begin to see just how many distractions, hurdles, and unnecessary complications we have voluntarily put in the way of her completing such a mission.
What if the church doesn’t need a building. What if she doesn’t need a professional worship leader, or AV equipment, a quality live stream, a stellar kids program or a salary to provide entirely for a family of 4? What if none of that was necessary because our primary gathering was not a Sunday morning production, our kid’s primary place of learning about Jesus was simply their own homes, and the primary minister of the Gospel within our midst was not one single man or even team of men (+ one women cause progress), but was every single member of the church that called her home?
I know, I know, she would look almost nothing like what we have grown accustomed to. There would pop up a million and one other hurdles and questions and needs for creativity and thinking outside of the box and trying new things. And that would be really scary and confusing and hard.
But it would probably also mean that the Church could actually begin to look a heck of a lot more like what she was always intended to be. It would mean men being set free from the industrial complex they currently feel beholden to in order to walk out their call as ministers. It would mean the Church being set free from the constant reliance on approval and growth and production and funding. It would mean the Saints being set a blaze as they are finally welcomed into the work of ministry that was always intended for them too. And so maybe all that would be worth whatever discomfort comes to mind when we think of walking away from church as we know it completely.
Womanhood
11 churches, 5 denominations, 3 cities, a mind imploding amount of small groups, and not one ever taught me how to love my womanhood.
Leaving the system they all belonged to finally did.
As much as the institutional church was never built for making disciples, it was also never built with women in mind.
Being a female minister was a constant reminder of just how “not for you” the institutional church was in its very nature. I and the women I cared deeply about were always after thoughts and additives, and making a place for us to thrive even on the best days was simply seen as unnecessary, on the worst days it was seen as an actual hinderance.
Fast forward through all the trauma and therapy and learning self-worth and overcoming deeply ingrained misogyny within my own self, deciding to leave a system that was never built for me and clearly had no space for me was actually a relatively easy call.
Being pushed to the margins for so long also meant being pushed away from the unhealthy system’s worst and most damaging consequences.
It meant never once being able to assume my ministerial salary and that salary alone should be able to support my family. It meant never once having my call in ministry being tied to one church, denomination, or even the entirety of the institution itself. It meant walking away held only benefits and freedom with very little rewards or promises of prestige being left behind in sacrifice.
In many ways, I pity my brothers whose same longing to walk away once and for all would cost them far more because of this patriarchal institution that has always given them far more. In many ways, I view my womanhood now as an intentional and protective gift that has enabled me to step into this unique and terrifying territory with a confidence and a certainty that can only come when all other options have truly been expended.
As a female minister obsessed with discipleship who never really belonged anyway, planting a church and planting it this way, it’s truly the only thing that makes sense.
It’s the most faithful, obedient step of Christ-like devotion I have to offer based on the experiences I’ve had, the realities I’ve seen, and the gifts I have been given.
It is my most heartfelt and sincere offering back to the Church that never really wanted me. I still love her, and still long for her to be better. And that right there is the both brave and crazy belief that serves as my constant why.
I love the Church.
I long for her to be better.
I want to be part of making her so.
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