Cuando Fluyan a la Mar…

I was privileged to be ordained at Iglesia del Pueblo Christian Church in Hammond, IN. In fact, IDP was the first Disciples of Christ church I joined, so it’s quite important to me. Although, I almost never went in the first place. What happened was I, a relatively new DoC convert, was looking around the Chicago area for a DoC church to ordain me. I tried many places over multiple months, but nothing seemed ‘to fit.’ However, I needed to choose soon if I hoped to be ordained after graduation.

Then, an attractive woman at my seminary told me she’d been checking out IDP, this Disciples church just over the state line from south Chicago, and it was really cool. They spoke Spanish and English, she said, and worshiped with a praise/gospel/salsa band, and I should go with her sometime. I must say, that sounded intriguing, but very intimidating, and I agreed to go mainly because 45 minutes in the car each direction was a long time to convince her to date me.

It worked, by the way, she’s now my wife. And what’s certainly less important, but still crucial, is I loved the church, and they nurtured me down the final path to ordained ministry. But again, however neat the result in retrospect, I didn’t expect IDP ‘to fit.’ I figured I was a young, white kid who speaks minimal Spanish, so hoping a predominantly Latino congregation would partner with and love me enough to make me a reverend seemed farfetched. Until I walked in the door, and all assumptions I’d made about “Us v. Them” or “White v. Latino” disappeared, when John Cedeno vigorously greeted me, saying, “Thanks for coming! Tell me about yourself!” Great hospitality. I felt very welcome. And that helped me relax enough to learn that in the important things, IDP and I were one and the same. We both valued worship, passionate worship, above most everything else.

But similar though our values were, IDP worshiped differently than I’d experienced before. They were intentionally multicultural. This, as you might suspect, is very tricky. Across the country, only 7% of American churches are what sociologists dub “multicultural” (meaning no one ethnic group tops 80%). Indeed, White, Black, Latino or Asian Pacific-Islander, most American Christians attend church with folk who look similar, and share similar tastes in music and expectations about worship culture (expectations like service length, music volume, impromptu v. scripted prayer, vocal interaction during sermons, clapping). That’s not news, surely, but the stats highlight how strange IDP was by blending English and Spanish, Black Gospel, Salsa, White Evangelical Praise, and Old European Hymns. Or what to some seemed strange, I learned was “Glorious.”

In retrospect, I think one lesson from my IDP days sticks out most: Christians share vastly different cultures, languages, assumptions about ‘proper church behavior’ and even beliefs about Jesus, but all that’s less important than our shared desire to praise God. In whatever way we do best. My favorite IDP song remains a Spanish language Pentecostal tune called “Como Las Aguas del Rio.” Roughly translated, the words are- “Like the waters of the river when they flow to the sea/so arrives the glory of the Lord into my heart”. I think that’s possible whether you’re shouting and dancing, or silently meditating to a Celtic version of “Be Thou My Vision.”

But the point of multicultural worship isn’t simply to affirm ‘we have more in common than not.’ Nor is it, as some have suggested, rejecting your inherited culture as ‘boring’ or ‘dull’. I means using worship to affirm what Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12- “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” Experiencing worship from a variety of cultures, in multiple languages, is the same thing as seeing God through another’s eyes, and from vantages we’d never achieve on our own. Or, if you will, knowing God more fully now, in anticipation of that ‘Great Getting’ Up Morning’ when it’ll all be made plain.


Grace and Peace,

Shane
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Look around you… (September Creeksider)

The other day, my wife and I were hiking on Barn Bluff, just outside Red Wing, in Southeastern Minnesota. At one point, as we snaked along the path, moving toward the bluff’s peak, I looked to my right and there it was: A series of cliff faces, just yards away, reaching high above our heads. That may not sound like much to you, but their size and shape nearly replicated other cliffs I’d spent hours staring at and thinking about as a kid. Those cliffs were in Winter Park, Colorado (the ski mountain where I learned the sport), viewable only from the bottom of a dangerous run dubbed “The Chutes.” But while out of the way, for those fortunate enough to survive The Chutes, and wise enough to stop and look around, these cliffs, steep and spectacular, towering over the trees, were postcard beautiful. As a kid, I imagined they weren’t just cliffs, but seats, where God would choose to sit and relax, if God needed rest. An odd fantasy, I realize, but for whatever reason, those cliffs deeply moved me. Still do. So when my wife and I hiked near something similar, I made her stop and listen as I breathlessly, rapturously sermonized about how awkwardly meaningful those other cliffs were to me. When I finally shut up, I asked, “Have I told you this before?” She said, “You have, many times, but it’s okay.” Wonderful wife.

Anyway, it’d been awhile since I’d pondered that favorite bit of scenery, so I’m glad I thought to look around on that hike, rather than focus only on the loose rocks beneath my feet, or where we were headed. Indeed, that’s much the joy of hiking, right? You might plan your destination and pay close attention to not losing your footing, but the point is to enjoy the walk, appreciate the journey, soak in the wonder of your surroundings.

In time-honored Shane fashion, I will now use that experience as an unfinished metaphor for church. Namely, I suspect what I just wrote about hiking applies to our Christian life together. Like hiking, where we’re going and whether we’re getting there as effectively as possible are very important, something to think about constantly. But if we don’t enjoy the process, frequently look around us, we miss the point of doing church. For instance, sometimes worship leaders and preachers get so focused on saying the right thing, picking the right song, performing it just right, that we don’t look around to assess whether the worship makes an impact. Maybe not, and we should change course. Maybe so, in some way, and we should build on that. But we won’t know if we don’t look around.

Ditto with something that’s been recently on my mind- If we don’t constantly look around to learn about and enjoy our community, we’ll miss opportunities God puts in our way. By community, I mean two things. 1) Church folk; if you don’t look around church consistently, you’ll miss who’s there, who isn’t, who’s new, or who you just haven’t said, “Hi” to enough recently. 2) Where we live; if we don’t look around, we’ll miss who needs help, who’s too lonely or scared to seek it, or who’s doing something wonderful we can partner with.

Sometimes Christians get so focused on doing their thing and going their own way, they don’t look around. But God brought us to our communities for a reason: to help create God’s Kingdom in this place with these wonderful people. Like a great hike, that can be tiring, but the journey’s worth it, as much for the people you hike with and the sites you see as you go, as the place you end up.

So if you haven’t looked around your community- either church or home- in awhile, stop and look. You might see something new and wonderful, or be reminded of something you’ve long loved. After all, wherever we are, whatever we’re doing, God is working to make goodness a reality in our midst. If we look around, we might find that happening. God might even use us to make that so for others.

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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