Charlie Wear’s Notes

My good friend Spencer Burke has launched theooze.tv today. Here’s the first ten-minute interview:

Don’t tell anyone but I really like the TV series, Heroes. Of all the heroes, however, I think my favorite is Hiro Nakamora (don’t know if I spelled that right). He’s the Japanese guy who can bend time and space and is a mean samarai sword fighter. I think he is currently without his powers in the series’ timeline, but he still follows his “Hero” philosophy.

I have had a few heroes during my life. Of course, the problem with having people for heroes is that they are people. One of my heroes was John Wimber. Of course, it was helpful that I did not personally know John. I only knew him through his writing, recordings, videos and live preaching. Unfortunately I have been acquainted with a number of people who knew John in his “life-size” version. My interactions with them sort of caused John to become a little less of a hero in my eyes. He’s still up there, but I know a little too much about him, I think.

One of my heroes is a guy named Steve Sjogren. Even though I have gotten to know him a little more up close and personal in the last few years, and he is more life-size than he was before, believe me, I have a great deal of admiration for him. Against great odds he started a church really small and grew it really big by making kindness a necessary part of his DNA and the DNA of his church. After suffering a seriously disabling medical accident he has come back to continue to make contributions in spreading the kindness of God around the world.

I have other heroes, some who are nearby and some who are further away, some who are younger and some who are older, some who are acquaintances and friends, some who are my family and some who are strangers. I remember one of the most heroic things my father ever did. He cared for his mother as she lay bedridden by a debilitating illness over her last months. I really admire him for that. 

I guess that being a little more seasoned can cause a person to understand that all humanity is flawed. It is when we struggle against our flaws and persevere in attempting to go above our “normal” humanity that our true “heroism” emerges. One of my mentors used to say “I want to grow up before I grow old.” I think part of the meaning of that statement is learning to accept ourselves, flaws and all, as much as we are willing to accept others.

Still, we really like it when our heroes are larger than life, don’t we?

I was raised in church. Every week my Mom would get me dressed in my little suit and take me to the Cradle Roll, or The Primary, or The Juniors. It was a small church and our classes were small. We had bible races, where we would look up the verse the teacher called out as quickly as we could. I was a star in the bible race. We would sing songs. The universal, Jesus Loves Me, This I Know, For the Bible Tells Me So. We used hand motions and said, “This is the Church, This is the Steeple, Open the Doors and See All the People.”

Church was great. If you lived by the rules, then you were “in,” part of the “remnant,” assured of a place in heaven. Unfortunately, when I was pushing thirty, the church of my youth and I had a parting of the ways. For about ten years I wandered in the wilderness, until a creative pastor started a church designed to reach out to people like me, “back-slidden” baby boomers. The church he started was creative and contemporary and gracious, and the next thing you know, I was “all up in it,” leading worship, serving as a small group leader, on the church council and eventually executive pastor.

This Is The Church

As a youngster growing up I was taught that being a member of the church, serving in the church, attending church, giving tithe to the church, were the minimum prerequisites for salvation. Being kicked out of the church was a very bad thing, for now your “membership” and therefore your standing with God was in jeopardy. When I was kicked out, because of my divorce with my first wife, it was a devastating blow to my sense of who I was. I was no longer a member of The Church, welcome to attend services and serve the congregation.

It was such a relief when Pastor Dan, the founder of that new church plant, said that we could all be members, even if we had been divorced. Now I could be a part of The Church again.

This is the Steeple

Years later I watched John Wimber’s video testimony (I’m a Fool for Christ, Who’s Fool are you?) as he described his first visit to “church.” It was hilarious. In addition to describing his experience, I thought that John was trying to say that “church” was strange. It seemed to me that John was trying to say that the Vineyard was a different kind of church, and I think he wanted it to be. I think John was trying to say that if we can get outside of our stained-glass sanctuaries and meet people halfway with contemporary music and a supernaturally natural approach to ministry that a new generation could be reached.

Something about the lack of a steeple made the Vineyard very attractive to my baby boomer consciousness and it was only a few years after my first exposure to Wimber and his teachings that I accidentally became a Vineyard pastor for a few years. Now, nearly 15 years later, I am learning a new reality.

See All The People

As a former pastor who closed his church about ten years ago, I have experienced another ten years in the “churchless” wilderness. I am not saying that I have not visited a number of churches, looking for one that would feel like home, because I have. I have struggled mightily to overcome the notion that was ingrained in my childish psyche that if I was not a “member” of a church I was not part of God’s family. I have tried to understand there might be a difference between “following Jesus” and being a “church member.” I am still struggling with these questions.

These days I am thinking about “the people,” not only those like myself who have been a part of “church” and are no longer a part of it, but also those who have never been a part of church, and don’t know or care about ever being a part of it.

The Apostle Paul said, “How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” (Romans 10:14,15, The Message)

I believe we need a new understanding of “church,” one that is not limited by the number of fingers that show when we open our hands. We need to “see all the people,” those inside church walls, yes, but also those outside of the church’s walls. We need to get outside our man-made boxes and limitations and see what God sees, not church buildings or steeples, but people.

We need to take the message of the apostle Peter to heart and become “living stones that are being used to build a spiritual house.” (1Peter 2:5, Contemporary English Version) This new spiritual house needs to overcome the bad reputation that we have given Jesus. The reputation that he and his followers are judgmental and, in some cases, hateful. We need to “Live such good lives among [those around us] that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.” (1Peter 2:12 NIV)

Whether we are emerging, or missional, transformational, incarnational, ancient-future, neo-monastic, or liturgical, it seems that we need to make a commitment to “seeing all the people” in the way that God sees them and loving them in the way that God loves them. Now that is a spiritual house I would like to be a part of.

My wife and I saw Slumdog Millionaire this afternoon. I had already seen the film, so I was able to warn her about the most difficult spots. This film is a paradox: uplifting and degrading, occasionally funny and incredibly sad, full of romance and tragedy.

I will have to admit, after viewing this film, I have no desire to visit Mumbai, ever. I am a fat American who really should stay pretty close to home, I think. Our local cinema complex has a play center where Benjamin can spend a couple of hours while his parents see a movie. It is great. All of the child care workers know Ben well, because we go to the movies nearly every weekend.

You don’t need my recommendation to see Slumdog, after all it won a ton of Academy Awards. But along with Gran Torino, it is one of those astoundingly spiritual films that was probably not intended to be that way.