Category: Youth Ministry
Worship Space
It may sound odd for someone who serves in youth ministry to question the growth of what I call “big box” Christianity as well as the theology that supports it. If you can transform a place in the woods or a poorly decorated youth room into sacred space for worship should it matter? No and Yes. If it is drawing people, particularly young people, for worship and to the faith should it matter why they attend or should we question the theology? Yes. My sociology minor and curiosity in anthropology encourage the questions. My advocacy for children and youth as the Church today and my ordination covenant requires it.
With few exceptions these “cathedrals of praise” rock out with bands, professional lighting, video, and sound. The atmosphere is “comfortable” and the theology is an orthodox to conservative to evangelical to fundamentalists expression of Christian faith. But, there are few symbols of faith beyond a cross or the ministry slogan or logo. I worshiped with a congregation yesterday in their sanctuary. That space has all the symbols that indicate something important, mystical, is suppose to happen here even when the place is silent. Stained glass stories, communion table, candles, pulpit, and bible. Well placed video screens in the balcony for those that wish to sing of the screen rather than hold a hymnal. Fewer attend that service than do the service downstairs in the fellowship hall with the praise band, little symbolism, and round tables rather than seats or pews. Sitting there in the quiet space of an “ornate” Disciples of Christ sanctuary I pondered how the de-churched, un-churched, or bored ten year member could prefer “praise rooms” rather than set aside sanctuary space. It may be something as complex as a sanctuary representing institutional oppression, imperialism or another institution that has or is failing the public. It could be person’s self esteem and sense of worthiness. It may be a hospitality that is deeper than clothing or music that speaks to the spirit and inner conversation of a person.
Here is what I know about myself and how I have been conditioned. I would walk into the historic sanctuary of another denomination for silence and meditation rather than a converted warehouse, praise room, auditorium, or big box Church. The symbolism, even one that represents a Christian theology I no longer believe, helps me center, listen, and be still. It is personal, but it is also corporate. It is what I think we need to be offering the children, youth, and young adults among us if our expression of Christian faith, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) is to remain relevant.
A Prayer for a Day’s Labor
On Sunday morning I left the house without the pastoral prayer that I had created. The pastoral prayer or community prayer time is an important part of worship so I spend time crafting words. I pieced together some of the words from my short-term memory for Sunday morning, but print them here.
Adapted from Eleanor Roosevelt’s Evening Prayer and A Prayer for Labor Day from Prayer in America
Let us pray:
Creator, who has set a restlessness in our hearts and made us all seekers after that which we can never fully find, forbid us to be satisfied with what we make of life. Set our eyes on far off goals. Keep us at tasks too hard for us that we may be driven to Thee for strength. Deliver us from the fretfulness and self-pitying; make us sure of the good we cannot see and of the hidden good in the world. Open our eyes to simple beauty all around us and our hearts to the loveliness people hide from us because we do not try to understand them. Save us from ourselves and show us a vision of the world made new.
Blessed be the works of Your hands, O Holy One.
Blessed be these hands that have touched life, and have nurtured creativity.
Blessed be these hands that have held pain and that have embraced with passion.
Blessed be these hands that have planted new seeds. tended gardens, and harvested ripe fields.
Blessed be these hands that have cleaned, washed, mopped, and scrubbed after so many sometimes with no thanks.
Blessed be these hands that have taken blood pressure, dispensed meds, and healed.
Blessed be these hands that have closed in anger, become knotty with age, hands that are wrinkled and scarred from doing justice.
Blessed be these hands that have reached out and been received, hands that hold blankets, bottled water, and MRE’s; hands that dig wells and write checks, and open us to embrace the other: these hands hold promise of the future.
Blessed be the works of Your hands through our hands, O Lord . . . our rock and our redeemer. Amen.