Becoming All Things to All People

 Let me tell you a story.
        There was once a large Lutheran Church, we’ll call it Saint Elsewhere, it was without a pastor. St. Elsewhere was graying; and they wanted to attract young people to their congregation. They looked over at the new mega church, where lots of young people were joining. They saw the Pastor there was heavily tattooed and a former rapper.

         So, when they looked for a new pastor, they wanted one of those—they wanted to keep up with the Jones, so to speak. When they interviewed their potential Pastor they asked if he could rap, and if he’d be willing to get a tattoo in order to attract young people.

         In fact, the members of St. Elsewhere added, they had already picked out a face tattoo for their new Pastor—it would be a Jesus fish, like the bumper sticker logo, but to prove how hip to the young folk’s jive the Church was, it would be a Piranha… or a Shark if the Pastor preferred.

         As you can imagine the Pastor was skeptical, and he said, “I don’t want a tattoo… nothing against them, I’m just not a tattoo kind of guy.”

         The congregation looked sideways at that, so the Pastor, you know wanting the job, added quickly, “However, I would be willing to look at the neighborhood and help figure out what we need, how I could empower St. Elsewhere to meet the needs of the community.”

         And, reluctantly they called the guy, and they listened to the neighborhood.

         And they realized there was not a single Spanish speaking ministry in the town, yet 2/3rds of the new residents spoke Spanish at home.

         And the Pastor said, “Conveniently, I speak some Spanish. With some practice I think I could lead a Spanish Speaking service.”

         And with that suggestion the congregation stopped, took a deep breath, and realized they had several Spanish speakers already in place who could help with the service. It was halting process and not always the hottest game in town, but it did fit who they were, and who the community was.

         The Pastor never got his Piranha or shark tattoo, and they never did snatch up those hip young people they’d hopped to snatch up—but they did create a space for Spanish speakers to hear the Word of God and receive the Sacraments.

Let us pray.

         “I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some.”

         These are dangerous words Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians. They can be a danger, as the phrase goes, “to ourselves and to others.”

         “Becoming all things to all people,” can be a danger to others.

         The danger is that in our attempt to reach all people, we end up doing ministry to people, instead of with people—to instead of with.

         I think of a famous chapter in the book, “The Poisonwood Bible.” It’s a book about a Baptist missionary family in the Belgian Congo.

         In this one scene, the Pastor father insists on baptizing people in running water, going down to the river—and he doesn’t understand the protest of his congregation, until he meets the crocodiles. He was doing ministry TO the Congolese people; if he’d done it WITH them he would have listened to their concerns, and not disturbed the crocodiles.

        

         And that’s really the way to avoid the danger of doing ministry to people instead of with people—you have to listen.

         I think of the Apostle Paul, who wrote this letter—when he addresses the Athenians in the book of Acts he points to all kinds of bridges between the Gospel and the lives of his listeners—he quotes philosophers and popular speakers of the time

—If he was preaching today he might have talked about Comedian John Stewart’s interview with Bob Odenkirk, then made sure you knew he’d read the latest James Patterson book, and was at a Lady Gaga concert.

         In short, he would respect the people he is ministering to enough to be curious about them, and to listen to them.

         So, for example, if you want to tell your grandchildren about Jesus, you need to be curious about their lives, as they actually live them… you need to listen to them, to know what they care about, to find the places where Christ’s story intersects with their own, so you can gently point that place out to them, when it comes up.

         Likewise, St. Elsewhere examined young people from a distance—they didn’t want to do ministry WITH the young people, they wanted to do ministry TO young people.

I mean observing a rap concert and watching people with tattoos in a coffee shop (the Call Committee’s prepared for the initial interview with a Pastor by doing both these things), isn’t the same as finding out what drew those young people to the church pastored by that tattooed rapper pastor.

         But when they listened—when they got curious about their own community—they could begin to move from doing ministry TO people and started doing ministry WITH people.

         “Becoming all things to all people,” can also be a danger to the ones doing ministry.(DTO-S)

         The biggest danger is becoming inauthentic, putting on a mask, claiming more than you can bear.

         I see this all the time, I’m sure you do too. Pastors and their families pretending to be put together all the time, holding those smiles until they can’t unsmile,

because they think that kind of wholesome family attracts people.

Some folk do that throughout a church service as well—holding those smiles until they shake the Pastor’s hand and head out the door.

         I know of a Pastor’s spouse who had addiction issues, but hid them so deep that they went off the deep end… all because they wanted to “be all things to all people,” and in so doing lost their very self.

        

         And this inauthenticity goes against the Gospel

—if you hear nothing else today, hear this

—the light of Christ shines on all parts of our lives

—his life, death, and resurrection redeems all parts of us

—not just the churchy-bits, or the wholesome-bits, or for that matter the socially acceptable-bits

—Our whole lives are made right in him…

to hide parts of ourselves is to cast a shadow where Christ has cast light.

        

         So, in response to the creeping inauthenticity that can come with “Being all things,” I say Church, “Know Thyself.”

Not only will it save you from losing your soul, it also helps to bring souls to Christ—there is a missionary advantage to being yourself—it actually helps you “be all things to all people.”

         Take Paul for example, he’s able to be under the law for those under the law, because he studied at the feet of the great Rabbi Gamaliel.

He’s able to be outside the Law and savvy about Rome, because he’s a Roman Citizen.

         Now as far as I know, none of us in this room have the high pedigree of the Apostle Paul, but we ain’t nothin’ either.

         Think of it, you can tell kiddos about Christ because you’ve been a parent or a teacher (for that matter we’ve all be kids) and know how to talk to kids.

You can talk to members of Job’s Daughters and the Elks, because you’re a Job’s Daughter or an Elk.

You can talk to soccer moms because you’ve been, or are, a soccer mom.

You can talk to new people in town, because they’re your new neighbors.

Talk to your poker buddies as poker buddies, the people you work out with at the PAL, as their Pals…

these things we are… they are bridges upon which the Gospel can cross.

         Again, back at St. Elsewhere, a Great White slashed across the Pastor’s face, while he makes references to Ludacris and Pitbull—when he’s a Bob Marley and Peter, Paul, and Mary kind of guy—would have been inauthentic.

         So instead, they looked at who they were, and realized they had plenty of gifts—that they could be all things to all people without being a danger to themselves or to others—did they save all…?

no, but they saved some.

         Let’s listen to what God is already doing in the lives we hope to point to the Gospel, so we’re doing ministry with them.

         Let’s be ourselves, because that’s who Jesus has redeemed, and that’s who our neighbors want to hear from

—not a mask or false face, but the face of the people they love, sharing the love of God with them. A+A

On the End of Andrew Sullivan’s blogging

            I’m a big fan of Andrew Sullivan and his “Daily Dish.” That doesn’t mean I agree with him on everything by any means, but engaging with his blog for the last 12 years, has shaped me. The Dish is one of the poles against which I’ve grown up. Sure, I’ve spent time in the Partisan shallows of DailyKOS, Democratic Underground, and Samizdata. Sure Nate Silver fascinates, Slate is still pretty good, and Facebook/Twitter turns heads and seduces eye balls, but the one place on the internet that consistently drags up interesting and thought provoking things from the sludge and the muck of popular culture, religion, politics, and current events is The Dish.

            I intellectually grew up with the Dish, it was a stable pole to hold onto.

            I was first introduced to Andrew and the Daily Dish my senior year of college at the University of Oregon around the time of the 2004 election.

            When I moved to East Anglia the Dish was, ironically considering Andrew’s country of origin, a place to go to check in on the pulse of America. When I studied at Cambridge I thought from time to time that there was an intellectual connection between Andrew and I, even though he attended The Other Place.

            Then in Philly, during the Democratic Presidential Primaries, I was a Richardson guy, but Andrew’s endorsement of Obama made me take a second look at the man who is now the twice elected President of the United States.

            During seminary some of my faith struggles were tinged with “The Conservative Soul.” For that matter, The Dish introduced me to the writings of Ta-nehisi Coates, whose neighborhood in Baltimore I moved into during my Vicarship.

            Finally, as a fully formed Lutheran Pastor living in Suburbia, NJ, the Dish has kept me rooted in a world beyond my own. In order to be connected with both word and context Karl Barth recommended preachers, “preach with a Newspaper in one hand and a Bible in the other,” but I say unto you, “Read The Dish and Preach the Damn Gospel!”

            In short, Andrew was a sort of electronic professor and friend for over a decade.  He’s folding up The Dish in order to get healthier and re-integrate himself with a slow and deep life. I hope and pray he finds good health and the gentle depth he is looking for.

Sermon: People are cared for

     I would like to give you a roadmap for where we’re going in today’s sermon—because it’s not going to be the normal weave or blend of Law and Gospel, scripture and experience, that I normal preach.

         I’m going to touch briefly on the two votes we took last Sunday, look a little more carefully at the 5 points of our 2015 Purpose Statement, and finally point to how the last of those five points intersects with Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.

         Let us pray.

         In light of the two unanimous and clarifying votes taken last Sunday, it’s worth considering what’s happening in our life together here.

         The first vote was to sell the back lot, with an eye to make this building, usable and stabilized, for our next 25-50 years of ministry here. To replace our current education wing roof with a sloped one, to install Air Conditioning and Double Paned Windows into the Sanctuary, and to upgrade to more modern bathrooms.

         Our second vote was to adopt a new Purpose statement for this year

—it describes who we are as a community,

what our focuses are for the coming year,

and will help us to plan a vision for the future.

         You’ve already heard the statement once this morning:

St. Stephen Lutheran:

A Worshipping Community of the ELCA, who partners with other Christians.

Where the Faith is Taught, Connections are made, and people are Cared for.

A Worshipping Community

         Worship is our primary act as a congregation; it’s where we meet together in the greatest number.

         It’s where Word, Sacrament, and Community come together—in other words, where we most fully meet Jesus.

Of the ELCA, who partners with other Christians

         We’re part of a larger body of Christians, we’re part of the New Jersey Synod and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. That means there are people in authority who keep us honest.

         They also help to coordinate our larger works together—like building and maintaining the affordable housing down the street, tackling Malaria, our missionary work in 80 countries, and the training and placement of Pastors and Associates in Ministry.

         Now, it would be fair of you to ask why do we need to add, “who partner with other Christians?”

         Let me tell you a story—I recently went to a Cambridge Alumni event in New York City, and was asked about what I did, and I said—Lutheran Pastor…

 and next thing I knew I was being read the riot act—this woman was so offended by Lutherans, because she had heard that a Lutheran Pastor who attended the same 9/11 prayer vigil she did, was defrocked for doing so.... defrocked for playing nice with fellow Christians, for praying with them…

         This Pastor was, of course, Missouri Synod Lutheran—our conservative cousins who practice closed communion and are against ecumenical work… but the average person on the street just hears Lutheran and assumes we’re a bunch of spiritual hermits.

         So, it’s worth letting folk know, proudly and loudly, that we play nicely with others—we drink beers with Catholic Sisters, respectfully listen to Rabbis, and worship with a whole cadre of Christians in town.

Where the Faith is Taught

         Worship builds up the faith, and teaching helps us to make sense of that faith—we offer lots of learning opportunities here, because it helps us to understand the faith we affirm—we practice faith seeking understanding.

         We’re more noticeably focusing on discipleship this year—we’re becoming clearer and more concrete about how we follow Jesus.

         Additionally, one of the best parts about teaching is you learn

—you have to know something in your bones in order to authentically pass it on to someone else. I’m sure the Sunday School teachers can affirm this—they know that old old story a little better because they’re passed it on.

Connections are made

         While our couple of hours together on Sunday is exceedingly important, it’s also important to stay connected to the faith, to the congregation, and to one another, throughout the week.

         We also ought to be encouraged to share our faith with people outside these hallowed walls. In order to do this, we try to act in ways that invite people to faith and allow them to more easily enter into this worshipping community.

People are Cared for

         All these things, connecting, teaching, partnering, and worshipping—they’re all built on this last one.

People are cared for.

         One of the dangers of ministry I’ve most experienced, is the danger of doing the church’s work

—the many tasks of the faith—as ends in themselves

—we can forget that they involve the lives of people.

         Worship is a gathering, of people. The Church in its many forms is filled, with people. The faith is Taught, to people. Connections are made, with people.

         And while it’s not Lent yet, I’ll gladly confess to you all that, as your Pastor, I’ve failed at living this truth out as often as I’ve succeeded at it—I am human and I err. God help me.

         And that’s what Paul’s talking about today. He’s talking about the stratospheric heights to which we should hold our relationships with one another—the great importance of community.

         Paul is confronted with a question from the Christian Community in Corinth… some folk think it’s okay to eat meat sacrificed to pagan idols; others are offended by it.

What’s the right thing to do?

How do we stay together as one community?

         Paul answers by saying, “Those who say you can eat pagan meat are right.        They’ve thought through the issue correctly. The so-called gods of the pagans aren’t real, so eating the meat offered to them will not honor them or give them any power, nor will it harm those that eat it…

         But, (Paul adds) those Christians who have taken this position, have not felt through the issue relationally… they’ve not asked the question: “is acting in that way caring for people?”

         They’ve not asked: “If I act this way am I building up my brother or sister”?

         Because there are other people in the Christian community who have deep and serious hang ups about participating in pagan society—they used to believe in those gods the meat is being sacrificed to…They know those rituals in their bones…

         “Imagine,” Paul insists, “what eating with Pagans, and eating the food of Idols, does to their conscience!”

         “You strong folk, don’t let your knowledge separate you from the heart of Jesus, that heart which you share with the weaker members of the community.”

         Sometimes people try to bring this up to the present day, and say something like, “Look, a Republican and a Democrat kneeling before the same altar and receiving the Body of Christ despite their disagreement the Tuesday before on Election Day. This shows how much they are bearing with one another’s weaknesses. Building one another up with love. How they care for one another.”

         And that is a beautiful image, Red and Blue before the Altar of God… but it doesn’t get to the depths of sacrifice, yes true sacrifice, that Paul is calling on the Community in Corinth to undertake.

         He’s telling these folk that, for the sake of community, for the sake of sharing their love with those they disagree with

—that

1.   they ought to sacrifice their major source of protein.

2.   Sacrifice most social connections in Corinth,

3.   Sacrifice their loyalty to country.

All that, for the sake of these people who Paul acknowledges are wrong!

         There really isn’t a good modern analogy. Perhaps, the modern equivalent would be something like… for the sake of someone you disagree with in church--

1.   Become a Vegan.

2.   Quit all the social clubs you belong to, and give up your cell phone and the internet.

3.   And swear your allegiance to Canada in front of the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

         All so the person you most disagree with in church will have a clean conscience.

         That’s the kind of sacrifice for community we’re talking about.

That’s how seriously Paul takes building up the community through sacrificial acts of love.

That’s the kind of seriousness with which I pray you take that fifth description of our community here—how seriously you take, “People are cared for.”

         After all…

         Our building could be a castle on a hill, a cathedral in the sky, with no leaks and not one blemish–faultlessly taken care of, with every amenity possible, but if a community of love was not found inside, we would be wrong for dwelling therein.

         Our worship could be perfect in form, every liturgical movement executed with excellence—but if it excludes the participation of any of the people, it is wrong.

         We could be the Lutheran Church known throughout the State for partnering with other Christians—we could ask good Lutheran Questions and give good Lutheran answers about the Duality of Man, the Centrality of Christ, and the Reality of the Crucifixion—but if we stop acting out of Faith, Love, and Charity, we are wrong.

         We could teach the faith so well, that our members know scripture backwards and forwards, the Bible and the Confessions on our tongues night and day—but if all it does is scare and scar folk, it is wrong.

         Our Website, Newsletter, Weekly St. Stephen Message, Youtubed Sermons, and Facebook Page could be the envy of every church in the country. We could have 135 prayer partners praying together daily, fellowship events galore, and do church in such a way non-churchy folk can’t help but be sucked into our maelstrom of connectedness… We could be so very connected, but if we aren’t caring for people, we are wrong.

         It is really an impossible task to ask of a Purpose Statement. An impossible task, even, to ask of a community who is truly the Body of Christ filled with sinner-saints.

         And yet, LORD God, I ask you in the name of your Son Jesus Christ, that you would send your Holy Spirit upon this congregation. Stir up in us the sacrificial active fierce love that builds up; give us, Dear Lord, the will to care for people.

Amen.

Video of Sermon: Follow Me Home

Sermon: Follow me Home

John the Baptizer, the one who was preparing the way for Jesus’ ministry and message, is captured.

His prophetic time as the voice calling out in the wilderness, is at an end.

         Which means that it is time to kick things off

—time for Jesus to act

—to call on those around him to repent, because they are now on holy ground

—Wherever Jesus is, the Reign of God is.

That is truly good news!

         So, Jesus goes along, and finds two brothers and brings them into his fold, calling on them to follow him.

         Two more seaside brothers, the Zebedees, are brought in, leaving family and vocation, to follow him.

        

         And sisters and brothers, I have some bad news for you—Pastors, by our very nature, can’t hear what today’s Gospel is saying.

Not being ordained actually helps you to hear what Mark is trying to say!

        

         Oh, we Pastors are fine with the first bit, in fact our understanding of grammar and Greek can help with discerning the whole “Kingdom of God” bit…

         But then, we come to those words, “Follow me.”

        

         “Oh,” we say, “Yes. Yes Jesus we do!”

         Yes, we follow you… we threw away our nets,

Yes we did! We gave up our professional credentials and licenses, we gave up our jobs—as teachers, nurses, computer programmers, and used car salesmen... all of ‘em,

yes we gave up our nets.

         Yes, we follow you…  we left our boats too.

We sold our cars and houses, we gave up our insurance policies and drained our 401Ks, we gave out our last penny, and loaded up on loans for this calling.

Yes we left our boats behind.

         Yes, we follow you…  we left father and hired hands,

and mother and country and colleagues and spouse. We ignored our children and studied non-stop for 4 years. We moved and moved and moved again—from Seminary to Chaplaincy to Internship to first call… we lived 100’s of miles away from anyone who we can call family,

and we submitted to the proposition that the calling by Bishop and by Congregation was not that of flesh and blood, but instead the very calling of Christ through the Spirit saying, “Come, follow me.”

         And so, we miserable clergy misinterpret, “Follow me.”

         We hear it, and look out at all of you, and back at our own experience of “follow me” and ask,

“Why are the people in the pews, such defective Pastors?”

… because we can’t help but think that’s what Jesus means by “Follow me.”

That following Jesus means the particular path that is required of us.

         But, perhaps a better questions to ask,

perhaps one you all should keep in your back pocket, if I ever get insufferable and persnickety… and I’m human, so I will,

is this question, “Why are the Pastors such defective disciples?”

After all Jesus calls Fishermen, Tax Collectors, Assassins, and Fanatics, but no Religious Leaders.

         Because, we clergy cannot help but hear “follow me” in light of our particular vocation.

         And in so doing, we miss out on Jesus’ particular location.

         We miss the amazing insight—that Jesus is not simply saying “Follow me,” he’s saying to his disciples, “Follow me home.”

         Follow me home.

Prayer

        

         Follow me home.

         We forgot that, with few exceptions, the majority of Jesus’ ministry is around the Sea of Galilee.

         Most of the gospel takes place around a lake that is 7 miles by 13 miles.

         This fishing for people thing that Jesus does—this good news about the Reign of God being near—happens in an area where everything is near-by.

         Think about that… from Plainfield in the North to Metuchen in the South, Iselen in the East and Boundbrook in the West—that’s it;

it’s in a zip code that Jesus is fishing for people.

It’s in an area code that Christ creates the rule of God.

It all happens in Jesus’ own neighborhood—he says, “Follow me” from his own home base in Capernaum… Follow me home…

        

         The problem with Pastors, when we read, “Follow me” is that we’re too much like Moby Dick’s Captain Ahab

—chasing after whales

—or perhaps getting swallowed up by them like Jonah.

         But we’re called to fish for people like Peter and like James. We are called to renew our In-State People Fishing License.

        

         We follow him in our own neighborhood and in our own homes. The Kingdom of God is near—it’s right there,

Jesus’ giant journey started small

—and shouldn’t we know that

—after all he tells us the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, it’s tiny and rooted in place, but it grows.

         The Kingdom of God is like leaven, tiny grit that makes it all grow…

         That’s why he calls us to follow him, home.

         Consider Simon Peter and his brother Andrew

—they already knew this man Jesus, he was a local like them

—Andrew, Simon’s brother, as we read in John’s Gospel, was a follower of John the Baptizer

—he likely already saw Jesus at his Baptism.

         And we imagine these men, they leave their nets, bobbing there in the water—it’s a lovely image.

         --Dropping the nets and follow Jesus never to see those nets again…

—but that’s too big picture, it’s not accurate.

         They’re still there in their neighborhood

—they likely pass those nets every couple of days

—they see them floating there, getting smelly with sea debris

—maybe their old friends complain because their nets are now catching on other people’s boats.

Or perhaps, and more likely, they take those nets and use them for a different purpose

—after all, that’s what they do with their boats, they make them into a floating pulpit for Jesus and ferry him from place to place in them.

         Or consider John and James

—they leave their father, but perhaps they still run into him at family reunions

—or when they pop back home to do some laundry or sneak a snack out of the fridge.

They still maintain relationship, just differently.

         For that matter, they likely meet the hired hands who watched them go to follow after Jesus.

 Perhaps they run into them when they come in to happy hour at the Grubby Gills Galilee Grill after a long day of discipling… perhaps they are met with the confused stares of those former colleagues. They have to explain themselves, and their faith, to their neighbors and friends.

        

         What I’m getting at here, is that the Kingdom of God is near, it’s right here…

we’re following Jesus in the everyday of our lives

—in our town,

in our neighborhood,

on the block or cul de sac we live on.

We follow Jesus among friends and enemies,

with people who know us at our best and at our worst!

         We’re following Jesus home.

         That’s why…

why I love watching our crew march in the Labor Day Parade

—watching the little bubbles of recognition in the faces of friends in the crowd,

the moments of eye contact,

that moment when they connect you to the Kingdom of God.

         That’s why I treasure Agnes’ description of walking her neighborhood with Pastor Clark, introducing them to the Pastor of her church.

         Why I try to check in on Katie’s Quilters every time they meet,

even though it’s inevitably after a 12-14 hour Tuesday,

—because seeing the non-members from town showing up and joining in the work of the Kingdom

—that’s worth pushing through to see.

         That’s why Pub Theology is in a pub-lic place, so when we pray the Lord’s Prayer at the end, everyone in the joint knows that the Kingdom of God has come near.

         That’s the thrust behind our Salt and Light project the Evangelism Committee is heading up, letting our neighbors know the blessing of God, which we have found in Christ Jesus.

         Yes, sisters and brothers, we’re following, thank God,

following Jesus home

—to our homes,

to our neighborhoods,

to those places and people nearest to us.

We are following Jesus home.

A+A

What made our ears tingle? The 3D’s. An outline of a discussion I lead with the Raritan Cluster

Below is a recap of a discussion I guided as Counselor of the Raritan Cluster—it might be helpful for others.

“To recap for both those who were at today’s Raritan Cluster meeting and those who were not:

We started off with the premise that those things “that will make both ears of anyone who hears it tingle” (1 Samuel 3:11) included the centralization of worship and government (vs. the Prophetic Bands and Tribal Judges tradition) and that the Israel that existed before Samuel was extremely different than the Israel that existed after Samuel. These changes were a mixed bag—God was no longer King, a civil war transpired, the Levitical Priests living outside of Jerusalem starved, Israel was more politically stable, etc.

From there we thought a bit about trends and changes we’ve experienced and where they may be going. What a before and after Samuel world could be for the ELCA and our congregations in particular. Here are the three categories we mainly looked at:

Disestablishment of the Church—Being a good citizen in America doesn’t mean being a good Christian in the minds of most people

--We’ve all ran into the problem of kids playing sports, this is a symptom of disestablishment; now being a soccer mom is just as much a sign of being a good American as being a Christian.

--Additionally, in the future this may change our not for profit tax status. Being taxed will shock us into thinking anew about being a community attached to a building.

--The good news is we no longer have to “play nice.” The Church is freed from the shackles of respectability…

--for example, when I first started Pub Theology one person asked, “What will people say?” “No one will say anything, being part of a church that meets in a bar won’t push you into society’s margins.” They followed up, “You might as well be in a brothel.” I was able to respond, “You know of a brothel in town? Point me in that direction, they need to hear about Jesus!”

Decentralization—Small groups of people without anyone in charge can now influence the world

--Two examples of decentralized systems would be Terrorist cells and the internet

--Thinking about what the internet does, in addition to being decentralized it is also semi-anonymous and depersonalized, which makes people crabby and hurtful… congregations are often non-anonymous and highly personal, that can be valued in an internet world.

--Decentralization often delegitimizes central authorities, these include: the Church writ large, Pastors, and denominational loyalty.

--It also gives us new mediums for preaching the gospel, for example small groups and putting sermons and songs on YouTube.

Demographics—America is changing both racially and economically

--Lutherans are often an ethnic club with a religious grounding… when we come to grips with the fact that there are no new immigrants from “the old country” coming, we can focus on what makes us uniquely Lutheran—hint isn’t not the Lutfisk or the bratwurst.

--The ELCA tends to draw members from the “Middle Class”… but in the last two decades what it means to be Middle Class has changed—less manufacturing jobs, more student debt, the necessity of two incomes, etc… the middle class is being squeezed and so is the ELCA… the time and money of middle class people is in short supply, the Church is lacking both of them. Perhaps this will allow us to take the cries of the poor more seriously, being that we are beginning to feel the bite of what they have for so long been mauled by?”