Say, “Hello,” to the Bible in the kitchen. I put the knife on top since it didn’t look like the Bible was in any odd place without it there.
The Church needs to be in odd places. It’s no good on the shelf with other Christian books (although it is very fitting there).
“I am sitting in a service at my home church in Missouri. During an announcement for a new outreach to international students, a non-Asian woman dresssed in a kimono (traditional Japanese dress) stepped up to the mike [sic]. She was an elder’s wife. She feigned an accent, in which she spoke in halting English. The congregation roared with laughter. There were two Asians in church that day. One was me. The other was my unchurched friend. He turned to me and said, “This is bullsh__.” He got up, turned around (we were sitting in the front row) and walked past the crowd of 800 laughing and guffawing faces.
“To my knowledge, he has never stpped into a church again. When he (and I) walked out, it stirred a controversy. Some were concerned that the way we walked out was too militant and not a new testament model of reconciliation. Some were concerned that we were hurt, and needed inner healing. Some were concerned that we didn’t get the joke, and did not understand that no harm was intended. Not once was the elder’s wife held accountable. The problem, it seemed, was us. Thicker skin, an improved sense of humor, inner healing, less outrage, and a less serious disposition seemed to be the order of the day.”
Cited from The Next Evangelicalism bySoong-Chan Rah, from a comment to “A Public Apology to Our Asian American Brothers and Sisters“
Today I went to Metrobrook. Metrobrook is a sister church of Elmbrook church and is located in central Milwaukee. Before Marquette, I attended Elmbrook regularly; I am now looking for a church in the Milwaukee area.
Metrobrook is very different from Elmbrook. One of the most noticeable differences is the size of the congregation. When I visited Metrobrook there were about 40-50 persons in the congregation. A smaller congregation makes for some very intimate relationships.
It’s even more intimate if you make yourself vulnerable, and that’s what people did this past Sunday at Metrobrook; they had a “Family Time” where people shared testimonies, struggles, and overcomings.
It was literally an outpour of emotion. I used to think that people cried (literallly cry, like tears) for attention, but I scrapped that idea after that service. It was almost overwhelming to hear all the hurt.
After a few speakers and minutes, I collected my thoughts. Church, for me, changed. In my youth, church was a routine. My heart was in it, but I rarely deviated from the norm. Metrobrook added a new characterisitc. Church became a place for the sick.
I’m serious. Think about it. Society and culture, for me at least, has painted church as an uplifting place; it’s where people go to feel better and wash the ink away. Church is a fellowship. It is where broken hearts bleed out the rest of their hurt. It is where encouragement is materialized. It should technically be a very sick place. ((But, of course, it is a place where God is present. So it wouldn’t be totally sick.))
Matthew 9:12: On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.”
I thought this post would have been better, but I feel it’s lacking. Perhaps I could develop it more, but I’m far too lazy. How about a short little story? K.
At about 8:30, I woke up. I showered, and went downstairs to eat breakfast. Then I walked out to the bus stop to wait for the bus. It never came, but an amiable old lady did. We walked together for awhile. She was on her way to church too, though a different one.
I never received her name. I don’t even want to make up a name for her. She talked about a lot of things, and I suppose older folk tend to do that. We bounced from subject to subject, and she imparted some street wisdom about using the bus and where to walk. Never would I have expected a senior caucasian woman to share some street smarts with me. That’s ghetto.
continuu 