Grace to Grace, Part II

Last time I reflected on ways that the Lord has changed me to be more open to new ways of worshipping and new ways of conducting worship services. (Read it here!) When I first sat down to write, I didn’t intend to elaborate so much on that journey. My first thought was to rave about how awesome my new church is. That spurred me to consider how crazy it is that I think so highly of my church, considering my background. It represents in many ways how my values and comfort zones have shifted. But I return now to my original thought: how much I love Grace Christian Fellowship in Southwest Philly!

My new church, GCF, follows the same spirit of freedom and fluidity at Grace Midtown, so much so that a few Sundays ago Pastor James scrapped his sermon in the middle of service! The normal flow of service includes musical worship, scripture readings, greetings and announcements, selections from the choir, and the sermon. Although in that description it may seem formal, the atmosphere is not. It often feels more like a group of friends gathered for a weekly sports event than a service. They all know what’s going on, but they are all free to engage with it however and whenever they please. For instance, there are many services where we are never instructed to sit or stand. Folks just do what’s comfortable for them: sit, stand, clap, shout, dance, raise arms, shake fists, etc.

On this particular Sunday, we had spent ample time in musical worship, had heard from the choir the usual two times, and before Pastor James got up to speak, he invited one of the members to share her testimony. She shared that she was several years clean and sober, finished with her schooling (with straight As!), and completing her final training for a job in the medical field. She praised God for redeeming her, and the church celebrated her victories in song. As the music continued, she began to dance and march in place, overcome with triumphal joy at the victory.

Following the lead of the Spirit, the church continued to clap, dance, sing, and shout in celebration. If they were like me, they began to reflect on their own stories of redemption while celebrating with hers. As the praise rolled from song to impromptu song, I began to add up the time left in the remaining elements of the service—having not yet started the sermon, we probably had another hour left. And at that point we were an hour and a half into the service! Whereas a former Preston would have been annoyed at such a realization, the new Preston didn’t care and kept on clapping.

Pastor James, seeming to know my thoughts, soon reassured us that he wouldn’t be delivering his sermon. On that day, following the Lord’s leading meant celebrating a testimony. He later shared with our team that he started the church with a hope that people would be able to share deeply and honestly, and share difficult stories from their lives that that they had carried with shame and embarrassment. He said something like, “Most churches—my old church—would have shaken their heads at such a ‘shameful’ story, as if they didn’t have similar skeletons. But at Grace, we can celebrate prostitutes, addicts, and dealers being transformed.” Some—my former self included—may shake their heads at how our time was spent that Sunday. We didn’t even hear the sermon! Why would we go to church, except to learn from the Bible? Sure, it’s great to celebrate transformation…but for an hour?? Maybe these are valid concerns…maybe. But I think heaven is a little bit less like a Bible study and a little bit more like a rave, where for all of eternity we will celebrate transformation in Jesus’ name.

Praise God for helping me to appreciate a place with values different from those I grew up with! Praise God for transformation, both of the black, female drug addict from Southwest Philly and the white, male PK from North Charleston. 

Grace to Grace, Part I

This week I want to write a little bit about my church in Southwest Philly, Grace Christian Fellowship, mostly because last Sunday was such an exciting week! I didn’t know it, but the Lord has been preparing me for a long time to be so comfortable and energetic about our church.

Growing up, I went to a small, white church where we sang hymns in a reverent service full of instructions like “please rise” and “you may be seated.” In high school I upgraded from a service with an organ to one with an electric guitar, where some people raised their hands or bounced in place. I felt the Spirit while the music played, but for the most part if I wasn’t singing or praying I wasn’t really engaged with God. This was my comfort zone: a structured, ordered service and a reverent, calm environment with white people who spoke English, most of them with a slight (or thick…) Southern accent.

As with so many aspects of my life, four years in college challenged my church comfort zone. My involvement in InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and my commitment to Grace Midtown Church gave me opportunities to explore new ways of interacting with God.

InterVarsity opened my perspective to the multi-ethnic beauty of Christ’s Bride, the Church. Before, I would have labeled a spiritual, a chant, a liturgy, a call-and-response sermon, or song in another language as something strange, weird, or perhaps inappropriate, but at least “not for me.” Studying passages of scripture like Revelation 7, Acts 10, and Ephesians 2 helped me to understand God’s design of a reconciled, multi-ethnic church. Engaging with God through other languages, cultures, and styles of teaching became a hobby of mine.

InterVarsity helped me theologically to appreciate and even celebrate difference, but I still wasn’t fully comfortable engaging with God outside of the way I first learned how. That process happened some in InterVarsity as well, but mostly at church.

In my shophomore year of college, I began attending Grace Midtown Church. I was drawn to it for several reasons, including the newness and freshness of the ministry model, its solid Bible teaching, its heart for the city of Atlanta, and—what I will discuss in detail here—the worship. If you’ve ever been there, then it’s obvious why, but for those who haven’t, it’s not so much the music style or selection that makes it so powerful. It isn’t the skill of the vocalists or musicians. While those elements are strong, it’s the heart of the worship that makes it so transformative. Worshippers are free to engage with the Lord however they see fit: standing, sitting, kneeling, prostrating, dancing, journaling, shouting, praying in the corner—and people do each of those things each week. There were many times when all plans and agendas were abandoned to follow the Spirit into 20 minutes of silence or spontaneous refrains or dance breaks. And if the worship leader reaches the end of the set list of songs and feels there’s still more praise to be given, then he or she will continue with a couple more songs.

This environment helped me a lot to be comfortable with others interacting with God in ways unfamiliar to me. Grace Midtown goes beyond the emotions of a song to a yearning to be with God through the Holy Spirit. And it’s not done just through music. I learned to worship through in posture, prayer, silence, writing, shouting, sharing with a friend, testifying, crying, laughing, chanting, liturgy, scripture, and even speaking in tongues, although I have yet to experience the latter myself. I was so grateful to have Grace Midtown as a playground for my worship so I could become comfortable in any context of worship, whether it be a solemn, structured, liturgical service or a comfortable, casual Jesus jam session on the floor of a living room. This adaptability has released me from judgement and condemnation of things unfamiliar to me. If the name of Jesus is being lifted up, then I can usually join in and engage with God.

With these transformations fresh in my past, I greatly anticipated the element of Mission Year that partnered me with a local church. I was eager to commit to a cross-cultural church experience that would be well outside of what used to be my comfort zone. As you can imagine, the adaptability I learned at Grace Midtown prepared me well for the transition!

My church in SW Philly is Grace Christian Fellowship. I thought it funny that I was going from one grace to another. Read again next week to learn more about how the Lord used my years in college to prepare me for my time at GCF!

Gunshots

This post is about gunshots I heard in my neighborhood one night this week. I hesitate to write about this experience, because I don’t want to reinforce assumptions about my neighborhood: that it’s violent and dangerous and unfriendly. But part of my intention is to analyze those assumptions and what implications they have for our spiritual lives. So for the sake of exploring my transformation through Jesus, I will risk reinforcing your assumptions about my neighborhood.

Here are some reflections paraphrased from my journal the morning after I heard the gunshots:

“Last night as I lay down to sleep, I heard about 15 gunshots. There was a series of several shots, a pause of a few seconds, and then another series of shots. My first reaction was heartbreak and tears. I sat up in bed and was immediately moved to pray for the situation that was probably just 2-3 blocks from my house. I prayed for the victim(s) and the one(s) firing the gun. With no details beyond the sound of shots themselves, I prayed for whatever I could think of.

“This, I thought later in the night, is not the reaction I would have had in the past. To be honest, I have heard gunshots from my home in North Charleston. When I heard gunshots there, my concern was at first for my safety; I was afraid at what could happen to me. I called the police to make sure whatever was happening ‘over there’ wouldn’t spill over to where I was. And, I thought, there was some criminal now on the loose that needed punishing!

“But last night in Southwest Philly, I mourned the situation. It hurt me to know that there was potentially loss of life, that someone had gotten to a point where s/he felt like violence was the only answer, that children lived on that street and were afraid, that my neighborhood would be looked down upon for the sins of a few. Later, when I once more tried to sleep, I was afraid. What if shots came through my window or wall? What if a police chase led the perpetrator to my back yard?

“After sensing my own fear, I was ashamed and returned to mourning: the situation of those directly affected deserved my prayer more than I did.”

Events like these are a part of the Mission Year experience. Something about living amongst the gunshots makes you care more about them. And not just for the victims. We often shun from our prayers those firing the guns, deeming them worthy of judgment and damnation (if not to hell, then at least the death penalty or maybe prison). But I was moved to pray even for the one(s) firing the gun(s).

Being among my neighbors and caring about them has opened my heart from selfish fear to grieving prayer. This is just one (rather extreme) example of how the Lord is using this relocation to transform me. I thank God for the opportunity to experience such transformation.

A Week in the Life of Mission Year

            I hope this blog entry will give you some more clarification about how my life functions while in Mission Year. Our time is rather structured, which at first was difficult for me to submit to, but after one week operating within the structure, I am beginning to see how each component is important to my experience this year. I’ll give you a brief rundown of my week and why each component is included in our schedule.

            Our week starts on Saturday. We spend the morning cleaning our house, which makes me happy. J My team isn’t particularly messy, but with seven people in the house it can get pretty messy in a week. After the house is clean, we go grocery shopping. That’s usually an ordeal. We have planned out all of our meals, so it’s a matter of collecting the necessary ingredients for each meal. We usually try to stay below $100 for all groceries for the week so that later in the week we have a cushion of $17 for anything else we need. The first week was difficult, but this week we actually have food left over, including a 10-pound bag of chicken. Saturday night we host a community dinner, inviting our neighbors to come over. This week we had three teenage girls over who we connected with right away. We had a lot of fun dining together and then played some card games afterward too.

            Sunday morning we go to church, and we have the afternoon free. People usually do laundry, read, hang out with neighbors on the porch, or write newsletters. Sunday evenings we have “points meetings,” which include several key elements: announcements from our team leader, planning groceries for the next week, and one person from our house shares their life story. I’m sharing mine this week. J Sundays we also go through our curriculum. We are all reading a set of books, and during curriculum we go through a set of questions and discuss what we’re reading.

            On Monday we start work at our service sites! I’ll probably post more about mine later, but I’m working at the Center for Digital Inclusion and Technology at an organization in West Philly. I work from 11-6, taking a trolley about 30 minutes north of my house. Even though I start work later, others in my house start at 8:30 and 9. For that reason, we have quiet hour every day at 6:00am. We rotate through sharing a brief devotion (5-15 minutes) and then we spend the rest of the hour in prayer, scripture study, and meditation. I usually take a nap between quiet hour and work. J After work on Mondays, we have a team dinner, all eating together.

            Tuesday is pretty much like Monday, but instead of team dinner we have family night, which looks different each week. Someone different plans it each week, and basically it’s meant to give us time to do something fun together that isn’t too serious. Wednesday we have Bible study at church, and on Thursday we swap between two different activities. Every other week we have training with the two other Philly MY teams, and on the other weeks we have “city-wide,” which has more of a spiritual formation emphasis, still with all MY teams in Philly.

            Friday is our Sabbath! We have nothing planned for Fridays, and we are encouraged to rest, relax, and spent time with the Lord. For your purposes, you probably know it as the day that I get on the internet. We break our technology fast every week on Fridays.

            That brings us back to Saturday! I hope this have given you a good understanding of the flow of my life. The cracks and crevices are filled with reading, journaling, silliness, deep conversations, time outside with kids and their parents, and all manner of other things. It’s a great lifestyle. I encourage you to pick one aspect of it, maybe one day or schedule item, and pray for me and my team. Thanks again for taking the time to read and follow my life!

10 Word Poem

A lot of orientation for Mission Year has focused on identity and living communally across difference. In one recent activity, toward the end of orientation, we were instructed to write a poem that described us or expressed our identity. We could only use 10 words. There were no other expectations or parameters. Just ten words.

Usually I roll my eyes at activities like this, but I've learned over time that it's better to engage with them, even if they seem annoying. I put my pen to my paper and began to process some of the conversations and experiences I've had in the last two weeks, and really over the last four years, when I first really began to consider my identity and its implications for how I interact with society. I ended up liking my poem so much that I'm sharing it with you here! I especially like the simplicity of it.

Maybe later I'll unpack more what I was thinking as I wrote. For now, I'll just leave you with my ten words.

Redeemed white man

Called to reconcile

Finding a voice

Expectant

Redeeming "Missionaries"

A few times I have taken issue with the name “Mission Year,” mostly the “mission” part of it. I’m usually a little uncomfortable being called a missionary. The term can mean different things to different people, but to most people it brings up images of white people in a tribal village in Africa trying to rack up conversion points. That association is painful for me, and it’s one I risk every time I tell someone that I’m in a program called Mission Year.

Although the Africa picture may be a little extreme, I know some of my friends imagine me going door to door in the streets of Philly telling people how they can get a ticket out of hell. No doubt, some of my new neighbors have experienced something like that in the past. One day this week as I was walking in my neighborhood with part of my team, we met a woman on her porch who immediately questioned our presence on her street. (We stick out, if you can imagine.) We were working on creating a map of our neighborhood, one of our orientation activities. As we explained more about what we are doing, including the use of the name of our program, she gave us a sincere and stern warning. Leaning forward in her chair, her eyes widening, she said, “Don’t sell God.” Her tone made it clear that she’d seen the salesmen type of missionaries around before. And they probably looked similar to my team.

Thanking her for the advice, we continued to explain that our intention was to learn how to better love God by loving people, specifically our new neighbors in southwest Philly. Her face brightened up and she sat back in her chair. Our clarification put her at ease and opened up a conversation that lasted about 20 minutes before we headed home for lunch.

Later in the week our pastor spoke at an orientation event. He hosted a MY team last year, too, and when he asked them how he could improve their time at his church, they expressed their discomfort at being referred to as missionaries, similar to my own discomfort. They wanted to dissociate themselves from centuries of colonialism and white ethnocentrism. Understanding their points, he told them that actually it was good for them to be called missionaries precisely because of the history and weight of the term. Especially in a church with many new believers, it was important for him to have “missionaries” that redefined the old term through a lifestyle of love. He sees the only way to rid society of the salesman-evangelist stereotype is to live an alternative “missionary” lifestyle: “If you are the only missionaries my church members encounter, then they have a great understanding of what it means to be a missionary!”

Christians in my generation like to shirk words that have been tainted with the abuse and sin of generations past. The glaring example is distaste for even the label “Christian.” But as my pastor wisely pointed out, rather than change the terminology, we need to redeem it. We have to own the sins of Christians past and live lives of love, which includes cultural sensitivity and ensuring the dignity of our neighbors. (Maybe later I’ll write more about what that looks like for us.)

The mission of Jesus was redemption, and I am excited to redeem the missionary life during my year in Philly. I’m sure my team and I will screw up somehow, but hopefully our neighbors will know our love for them and extend grace to the missionaries on their block this year.

Disconnecting?

Most days when I’m between activities or have a few minutes of time to kill, I turn to my iPhone for entertainment or distraction. Often I will go to my New York Times app to review the latest headlines or read an article that seems interesting. Today I had a moment on the shuttle to do just that and discovered an article discussing a popular YouTube video which drew attention to the fact that human interaction, especially in my generation, is more and more dominated by the presence of 4-inch, hand-held screens such as the one from which I read the article.

Although I encourage you to read it yourself by following this link, it discusses the recent overwhelming tendency to document everything through different social media outlets: “People make dinner reservations on OpenTable; check in on Foursquare when they arrive at the restaurant; take a picture of their food to share on Instagram; post on Twitter a joke they hear during the meal; review the restaurant on Yelp; then, finally, coordinate a ride home using Uber.” But it also discusses pushback against such hyper-connectivity to technology. Some bands are forbidding concert-goers from recording their performances, and some restaurants no longer allow patrons to take pictures of their food. And the video that inspired the article shows dissatisfaction among friends of those recording live performances or posting pictures of food.

I found this article interesting because part of my Mission Year will include embracing a simpler lifestyle that doesn’t include such hyper-connectivity. In fact, I’ll be fasting from all use of technology for the first 7 weeks of my year! Some people ask, “By all technology, what do you mean?” And my response: “All technology.” That means facebook, computer, internet, texting, calling, cell phones, movies—everything. (Yes, I will have my cell phone to use in an emergency, but I won’t be constantly connected to it like I am right now.)

Why the technology fast? Several reasons. Technology can cause many distractions from face-to-face connections. In the MY handbook, it explains that, “Rather than dealing with the issues that you will face as a result of living in a new city and with a community, you will be tempted to ‘escape’ from the issues,” by turning to a movie, a game, or even a phone call to a friend outside of Mission Year. But removing those crutches will help me to remain present in the face of a difficult situation such as a conflict with a Mission Year teammate. 

We also fast from use of technology to be present with those in our new neighborhood, entering into a context that is not as heavily saturated with technology and social media, sometimes because of a lack of access to it. Again, removing those elements from my life will increase my capacity to be present and connect with my neighbors.

Some people can’t handle the idea of completely disconnecting. I must admit that I don’t fully know what to expect. I’m like most people in saying that I appreciate the idea of it, but I’m not sure how it will be to actually practice it. In truth, the principle of being present in my neighborhood means NOT being present with other people that I care about. It will be hard to limit my contact with my family and close friends who are normally just on the other side of a text message or phone call. I’ll even be limited in my ability to engage with friends living in Philadelphia who are NOT in Mission Year. In a way, I’m straddling a line between two worlds.

But the technology fast is not just about denying myself. Disconnecting from one world means connecting to another in new and more genuine ways. The life I have lived so far has not allowed me to connect with a neighborhood like Southwest Philly, and if I'm going to take seriously my charge to love God and love people in that neighborhood, then I need to be fully present and connected to it in every way that I can. I will miss the ability to check my New York Times app for interesting articles such as the one I stumbled upon today. But I think the activities and relationships that will replace it will make it more than worthwhile.