Local populations may have changed drastically over the years. The neighborhood where I spent my first nine years is a perfect example. As a child, Devon Ave. was filled with kosher delis and stores with names like Manzelman’s and Rosen’s. We were one of the few gentile families in a very Jewish neighborhood. Drive through that area now and you’ll find Middle Eastern markets, sari palaces, and video stores with posters of the latest Bollywood releases in their windows.

In my twenties I lived in Wrigleyville – a dream come true for a diehard Cubs fan like me! (And a complete nightmare on game days if you needed to drive anywhere.) But you could walk to the end of my block, cross the street, and enter a whole new world: Alta Vista Avenue! The street is only one block long and looks like someone picked up a little piece of 19^th century London and set it down in the middle of Chicago.

If you travel down King Drive, you’ll eventually reach a very strange-looking neighborhood.  There are about 30 very tiny houses, set at the very back of their lots, giving them huge front yards.  They’re called garalows – a combination of garage and bungalow. Built in the 1920’s, garalows were designed to provide affordable housing for young families.  The developer’s concept was for young couples to buy these houses and live in their 500 square feet of space for a couple of years while they saved their money. Eventually they would build a bigger house on the front of the lot and convert the garalow into their 2-car garage.

It was a brilliant concept, but several events changed everyone’s plans. First came the Great Depression – people couldn’t afford to build.  By the time they could, families began to flee the city for the sprawling suburbs.  So almost a century later, very few of those larger dream homes were ever built and an entire neighborhood of funny looking little houses still stand on King Drive.

Plans change. Neighborhoods turn over. Brilliant concepts are abandoned. Life moves ever faster and history gets forgotten.

It was almost 40 years ago that a church outgrew its facilities in Chicago and, like many of its families, decided to move to the suburbs. After several years of searching for just the right piece of property and through a series of miracles, they eventually ended up with 16 acres of prime real estate in Oak Brook – one of the richest suburbs in the United States at the time.

The original concept was to build in stages as growth required. The first phase of construction was the education building, which would act as the sanctuary – for now. Eventually it would be classrooms for Sunday school classes and a school.

The second phase of construction was an office wing – much needed space for a growing staff.

The third phase was a cavernous, awkwardly shaped sanctuary. It resembled a school gymnasium more than a church sanctuary – because that’s what it was designed to eventually become. Someday a grander, theater-style sanctuary would be built, leaving a well-appointed, multipurpose gym.

But like the garalows on King Drive, brilliant concepts get derailed by unforeseen events. And that’s not always a bad thing. Do we really need another megachurch?

What derailed the plans in this case?  It was different events at different times. And though understanding them is important, it’s not the point I wish to make here.

In 35 years the population has changed. The congregation has experienced several turnovers.  And the current population has little or no concept of the rich, hidden history that surrounds them.

I have a challenge for this new population: In 35 years we’ve been unable to find a way to reach our immediate community in a significant way. How do you reach people, who can buy anything their heart desires, with the message that what they really need can’t be bought with money? How do you bridge the gap between financial affluence and spiritual poverty? How do you break through a 35 year old shield of invisibility?

Will you be the generation that cracks this code and begins to accomplish what God has planted us here to do?

Like most long-established congregations, there are lots of factors that have attributed to our longevity. Some good – some not so good. There have been wonderful saints. There have been miraculous events. There are plenty of special memories – both touching and humorous.

But along with the good, we’ve had many shortfalls. Some of us prefer to be a hotel for Christians – a safe haven from the evil around us rather than a hospital to care for the hurting world. At times we’ve been more concerned about managing our image than modeling God’s love and grace.  Some of us have chosen to follow men of God rather than God, himself, only to walk away disillusioned and hurt when the men screwed up (which inevitably happens).  We have experienced times of tremendous growth – but under honest scrutiny, it was usually through attracting established Christians rather than hurting, broken people, looking for the love, grace and acceptance we extended.

When I think of our past, I rarely remember our services or programs. What I remember is the relationships. I remember conversations around living rooms and kitchen tables and front porches and backyards. I remember celebrating and grieving together. I remember praying together and encouraging each other through tough circumstances and hard times.  I remember sharing life together.

What I remember most is that very little of this took place sitting in a pew, staring at the back of someone’s head on a Sunday morning.

The building has always served as a central gathering spot and I grew up believing that I needed to be there every time the doors were open because that’s where we met with God.  But looking back through adult eyes, I realize that very little of my spiritual formation occurred in that building or the programs it promoted.  Most of my spiritual growth happened through observation of what went on outside the building.

In the spirit of full disclosure, a lot of the things that happened in the building did more to drive me away from God than they ever did to draw me to him.  Why? Because in the building we put on our “costumes”. We monitored our words and actions. We carefully managed our image so people would think that we were “good Christians”.  Not so much because of what God thought of us, though that did count – but it seemed to be more important what the other people at church thought.

But outside the building, I was able to observe the true church through the example of my parents, neighbors and friends. I witnessed my mother struggle through friendship evangelism with a new neighbor.  I watched as she eventually overcome her apprehension of associating with a woman who smoked like a chimney and swore like a sailor, for fear of what others would think of her. I learned by example, watching her and the ladies of our church who lived in our neighborhood accept and love that woman into the Kingdom. It wasn’t instantaneous…and it wasn’t pretty. But experiences like that did more to teach me about God’s love and grace than anything said or done within the walls of the building.

Most of those friends and neighbors are scattered across the country now and our congregation has changed in many ways.  We’ve gone through seasons of thinking that church growth is about how many people we can attract to our building and how many cool programs we can offer.  We’ve fallen into the trap of believing that it’s the staff’s job to create programs that attract people to God and our job is to show up and support them as they did their job – as long as we didn’t have a scheduling conflict.

As a former church staff member, I am guilty of this kind of thinking. I spent far too much time focusing on building the perfect service, or program, or marketing scheme to attract people to our building. But looking back through history I realize how wrong this was.  Growing the church has very little to do with what happens in a 90 minute time slot on a Sunday morning inside a building, and everything to do with how we live out Jesus’ love to the world outside of those walls.

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks asking God and myself what I need to do differently. I hope that you will, too.

While it is far from my ideal career choice, there are three things that I really like about it. First, I am grateful that it allows me to pay my bills and keep a roof over my head. Next, I really enjoy the people I work with…at least what little I get to interact with them. And by far my favorite thing is that I get to listen to my MP3 player while I work.

For me that means listening to audio books. While I love music, the vocalist in me always wants to join in and at least hum along. Sneak up on me in the aisle of any store and you’ll catch me humming along with the Muzak – it’s a completely unconscious response. I’m sure the people who work around me would quickly get annoyed with me, so to avoid an ugly scene, I listen to audio books.

Recently I listened to a fabulous book on the history of modern church practices called, Pagan Christianity by Frank Viola & George Barna.  Spoiler alert: If you are perfectly happy within the Christian bubble of what Catholic & Protestant religions consider to be Biblical church practices, take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe.  If you take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and they’ll show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.

Rather than attempt to summarize the book, I’ll just say that Viola & Barna do an excellent job of documenting the true (and sometimes disturbing) history of the religious practices held in high esteem by Christians today. (I encourage you to pick up a copy and read it!) Unfortunately, what we think of as church today bears very little resemblance to the gathering of the church in the 1^st century.

Just like the cow path through the Monroe St. building, I realize I have clung to traditions and practices that are totally irrelevant to my relationship with God in the quest to be thought of as a good Christian. I now find myself sitting in Sunday services asking myself: How is this relevant to what goes on outside this building?  Unfortunately, most of the time the answer comes back: It’s not!

This creates a very strange dilemma for me.  I spent many years working as a church secretary, providing the necessary administrative support that is vital to its operation. I spent the last several months developing a business to provide those skills on a much broader basis to smaller churches with limited budgets.  But I suddenly find myself questioning that decision. Do I want to make a living providing administrative support to programs and services that cater to the comfort level of the current Christian community? Can I justify that to myself? More important, can I justify it to God?

These words of Jesus recently jumped out at me in brilliant neon colors when I read them:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matt 11:28-29 MSG)

Do I think that we need to abolish church gatherings as we know them today? No. But I do believe we need to seriously rethink them.

In my perfect world, Sunday church gatherings would be less about catering to the preferences of the established congregation and more about educating and inspiring them to get out of the building and identify ways to spend the next  9990 minutes modeling the unforced rhythms of grace to the hurting people they come in contact with.  (A 90 minute Sunday service + 9990 minutes = one week.)

Instead of planning door-to-door evangelism campaigns, we’d plan door-to-door blessing campaigns: “Hi. We’re from the First Congregational Community Church. We’re not here to preach at you, or give you any literature, or invite you to our services. We just want to know if there is something we can do to be helpful to you in some way this week? No strings attached.”

We’d measure our effectiveness, not by how many people attend our services, Sunday school classes & Bible studies each week, but by how visible and involved we are in our community.

Rather than huddling in our Christian strongholds, wringing our hands over how the world is going to hell in a hand basket and how much they hate Christians, or self-righteously hurling insults at people who don’t think the way we do, we’d actively look for ways to bring light to the darkness with kindness, gentleness and compassion.

Of course, I realize that in a perfect world there would be no need for any of this.

So when people ask me how my business is going, I have to tell them it’s not – at least not yet. I’ve gone back to the drawing board.  I think God is showing me that it’s not about creating a pay check for myself – he’ll take care of my needs as he always has. It’s not about providing administrative support to free up pastors so they can concentrate on more important tasks – because in today’s society, those tasks are usually directed at maintaining the status quo.

It’s about changing the culture from within – motivating people to take off the rose-colored glasses and ask God to show us the mistakes we’ve made in the past. And it’s about discovering ways to inspire God’s church to move in the unforced rhythms of grace that Jesus wants to teach us.

It began in 1844, when William Jones, a farmer who owned most of the land that is now known as “Downtown Chicago”, sold off pieces of his land to commercial developers. Farmer Jones wanted to make sure he had clear access for his cows to travel from his barn to his pasture, so he had a restriction written into the land deed, requiring that the cow path be preserved.

Fast forward to 1928. A brand new high-rise building was completed at 100 W. Monroe – just three blocks from Chicago’s busiest retail corner. The state of the art construction included a 10’ x 177’ x 18’ service way through the building from Monroe St. to an existing alley so the cows could get to their pasture. Never mind that no pasture existed – or that the cows left the neighborhood in many decades earlier.

In 1938, the building management went to court to try to get the restriction removed. They complained that they were losing $10,000 a year in rental income because the cow path took up valuable space that would normally be rented out as retail space. For reasons I don’t understand, the court upheld the deed’s restriction and to this day there is a cow path through a 28 story building at the corner of Monroe & Clark.

If you’re like me, you think this is one of the most absurd stories you’ve ever heard. Yet every week, Christ followers do something just as illogical.  We unquestioningly accept our religious rituals and traditions as Biblically sound, holy institutions without any concept of their true history.  I would love to see a Sunday series on the true history of the current church practices that we consider “normal”. Unfortunately, I don’t think it will happen any time soon.

We’ve come to believe that great worship services and preaching are the keys that draw people to faith in Jesus. But it’s far from the example that Jesus set for us.

I once heard an anecdote about a new bride who was planning her first big dinner party and called her mother to get the family recipe for cooking a roast. Her mother instructed her to buy a 7lb. roast and told her how to properly season it in the secret family tradition that had been passed down for generations. Then she instructed her to cut the roast in half, put each piece in a pie pan and cook it at 325° for an hour or so.  The bride asked why she needed to cut the roast in half. She had received a beautiful roasting pan as a wedding present that would easily accommodate a 7lb. roast.  But her mother insisted that this was the proper way to do it. This was the way her mother had taught her, and the way her own grandmother had done it as well. She didn’t know why it had to be done this way, she just knew that it did.

To her credit, the bride was not satisfied with her mother’s answer. And since her 92-year-old great-grandmother lived close by, she decided to go straight to the source.  On her way home from work the next day, she stopped by her great grandmother’s. She explained about her dinner party, and wanting to create a beautiful table presentation to impress her guests, and then asked her why she needed to cut her roast in half in order to cook it properly.

The great-grandmother started laughing so hard she had to sit down. Several minutes later, when she could compose herself enough to speak, she said, “Sugar, I can’t believe it’s taken three generations before it occurred to someone to ask me that question!  Times were hard and money was tight when I was raising my family.  I didn’t own a pan big enough to hold a large roast and thought it was a frivolous expense to buy one, so I made do by cutting it in half so it would fit into the two pie pans I owned.”

So my question is this:  Isn’t it about time we start asking why? Why do we do we cling to thinking that previous generations  accepted as the proper way to live out our faith as the way it should be done?  We just might discover some areas where we’re living by the letter instead of the spirit of the law.  Maybe we’d discover some of the reasons the “presentation” of our faith isn’t as Christ-like as it was meant to be.  Maybe we’d discover some well-preserved cow paths of our own.

I’m also sure you don’t care about the detailed minutia – the whys and wherefores behind my next few posts – only that they lead to some entertaining reading.  You do need to know that God seems to take great pleasure in orchestrating crazy circumstances when he wants to get my attention. And this is apparently one of those occasions. So against my better judgment, I feel the need to give you a little bit of background.

My brain does its best processing while asleep, and few weeks ago I hit a whole new level! On that particular Saturday night my dreams were filled with visions of the past – both ancient and recent. At 5:00am I awoke to the realization that there was something bigger going on than just a night of crazy dreams. Then I rolled over and returned to my processing.

I spent that Saturday watching a series of fascinating programs on one of the PBS channels. The show, called Hidden Chicago, highlighted some of the “lost” history of this city – things like remnants of the Columbian Exposition, silent movie studios, old cemeteries, and the zoo at Indian Boundary Park that I visited many times as a child.  Many of those remnants of the past are right under our noses – we just don’t realize it.

One of my favorite segments was about a high-rise building on Monroe St. whose construction, in 1928, required the inclusion of a cow path through the building (which still exists), even though there were no longer any herds in the downtown area. Another was about ghost signs – ads that were painted decades ago on the sides of buildings for products and services that no longer exist, but whose remnants can still be seen.

History has been a recurring theme for me lately.  Everywhere I turn, I’m dealing with it on some level. But the PBS program has become an important piece of the puzzle in this lesson that God has orchestrated for my benefit. He’s been showing me some amazing things, and for some strange reason he used that program to tie it all together. I look forward to sharing my journey with you over the next few weeks.

I hated history in school. Today I find it fascinating. Sometimes it’s a fond, but forgotten memory. Sometimes it’s the glimpse of a ghost sign. Sometimes it’s a revelation about a cherished tradition that holds no relevance to the present. History is always educational – even when it’s frustrating or painful.

They say hindsight is always 20/20. I disagree! You’ll never see history clearly if you insist on looking at it through rose colored glasses.

More to come soon…

I have been nearsighted most of my life. I still remember getting my first pair of glasses when I was 12. I was amazed at all the things I’d been missing! Suddenly I could actually recognize my friends from several blocks away.  And the night sky was FILLED with stars – not just the few bright ones I could see before. I had no idea how much I had been missing without corrective lenses to compensate for my limited vision.

But it’s not just my physical vision that’s limited. Lately I’m realizing just how nearsighted I am spiritually. Over the past few weeks my field of vision has been shrinking. I’ve gotten so caught up in the here and now that I haven’t been able to see beyond it.

Have you ever felt claustrophobic in your own life? Recently I’ve been fighting a losing battle with discouragement on several fronts.  I’ve been so stuck in the muck of the present that I haven’t been able to see anything else and the walls were closing in fast! And my response, as usual, was to whine at God about all the things I want and need to make it better.

Now I know that God has infinite patience, but I’m just as sure that I test it to the limit when I get going. And last week I must have gotten on his last nerve with my whining.

I subscribe to a couple of daily devotional emails and last week they both hit on a common theme: Refocusing our vision on God when we don’t understand.

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I can be pretty slow on the uptake at times.  Yeah, I got the general message, but my response was, “I hear you Papa, BUT…”

Sometimes God has to smack me upside the head with a 2×4 to get me attention.

God’s 2×4 was Hebrews 11 – the faith chapter – which just happened to come up in my devotional reading on Sunday. (There are no coincidences!) Reading that chapter made me realize just how nearsighted I’ve become.

This week – instead of whining – my conversation has been more on the order of: Papa, I want to see past my own myopic field of vision. Can I please use your binoculars?

Koda, The Wonder Dog

Koda is the wise mentor and hiking companion of Gail Lynne Goodwin, the founder of InspireMeToday.com. He’s also a 2-yr old Samoyed pup.

View Luminary Profile

If today were my last day on Earth and I could share 500 words of brilliance with the world, here are the important things I’d want to pass along to others… From watching Koda for the last two years, these are things that he would share with you if he could write….

You’ll get much more from tail wags and licks than you ever will from barks and bites.

Be persistent and you’ll usually get what you want.

If we weren’t supposed to play in mud puddles they wouldn’t exist.

Happiness and love are the only things that matter.

Few things in life are as good as a long cool drink of water or a back rub.

When someone tells you “You’re beautiful”, just smile, knowing they’re really seeing a part of themselves in you.

Knowing that all of the answers to all life’s questions are already inside us all, sometimes silence really is the best answer.

Honor our differences. Just because I run after a stick doesn’t mean I’m going to bring it back anymore than you could expect a retriever to pull a sled. Recognize and appreciate our individual talents.

Enthusiasm can overcome fear in almost any situation.

Don’t worry about what you look like, ever. Just be you.

Play until you’re too tired to play anymore. It’s what life’s all about.

It’s great to lead but don’t forget to wait and help those behind you too.

Toys don’t have to be expensive. The right stick can be the greatest find of the day.

Give back the love that’s given to you.

To read the entire post, click here. I promise there’s much more Koda wisdom that will inspire you. And it’s definitely worth sharing with your friends and loved ones. Thanks again Gail!

It takes a mature person to say, “I’m willing to give up my preferences for the sake of the mission.” 

I was challenged by this statement when I read one of Dave Nelson’s blog posts last week. (To read his post in its entirety, click here.)

In the past few years I’ve heard several pastors state that church is the one organization that doesn’t exist for its own membership. But as true as this statement is, its difficult to live it out, isn’t it?

We have so many preconceived notions of what church should be. We believe that our concept was designed and ordained by God.

A year ago I picked up a copy of Pagan Christianity by George Barna & Frank Viola. I was surprised to learn the true origins of most of the practices we consider “doing church” today. I encourage you to investigate this book. I guarantee it will challenge you.

So why do we persist in the belief that Sunday mornings are about catering to our need to meet with other Christ followers, celebrate each other, and practice our Christianese? How do we begin to move toward the belief that Sunday morning…or anytime, for that matter – is about allowing hurting people to experience God’s unconditional love? What can we do to make them comfortable enough to feel it?

Are you willing to give up your preferences? Am I?

I could fill space today with my own opinions and thoughts about what’s happening at GLC, but I think Dave sums it up beautifully. You can read his blog from earlier this week by clicking here.  I encourage you to read it and  rejoice in God’s handiwork.

Happy Birthday GLC! May our Lord continue to be lifted high and lives continue to be changed.

I heard someone I greatly admire utter these words recently.  I know that for her it is a true statement in the best sense.  She has spent her life in the service of her church and has served it well. But the statement still bothers me.

For so many people Christianity revolves around a building and the activities that occur there. But is that what how Jesus lived?  I think not! Yes, there are examples of Jesus teaching in the Synagogue throughout the New Testament. But there are many more examples of him interacting with people in everyday situations – usually people considered by the religious leaders of the day as the fringe of society.  And never once does Scripture portray Jesus’ life being all about going to church.  Actually, Jesus’ example is that we need to be out among those who are hurting, not spending our lives in a building catering to those who already believe.

I realize that for previous generations, faith in God was measured by how much you attended church. But that doesn’t make it right. Remember that at many points in history, faith in God was measured by how many infidels you killed in the name of Christ.

I don’t want my life to be about coming to church. I want my life to be about sharing the love of God with those who wouldn’t think of coming to church.  When I’m in my 70’s I don’t want people to say about me that my life was all about coming to church. I want them to say my life was all about showing God’s love to people outside the building in ways that changed their view of him in a positive way.

How about you?