Baptimergent

Baptist Studies/Culture

Zach Roberts, ed.BAPTIMERGENT

“. . . a rich combination of education, inspiration, provocation, and stimulation.”

—Brian D. McLarenAuthor, A New Kind of Christianity

The time has come for particular confessional tribes within Christianity to reflecton what the burgeoning emergence of the church means to them. Baptimergentis an excellent model of what that reflection can be—plus it’s got chapters bysome of my favorite people in the world. This is a great resource for Baptists andnon-Baptists.

—Tony JonesAuthor, The New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier

Emergent Baptists are those who believe thereis more to God, Jesus, and God’s kingdomthan modern Christianity and its denomina-tional categories have been able to define.Emergent Baptists believe it is incumbentupon us to participate in—and write—thenarrative for our time and place. Like genera-tions before us, we hope to take what ourforefathers and mothers gave us and fashionsomething from it that is our own. This bookcontains some of our first efforts at doing so.

Zach Roberts lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, withhis wife, Jenn, and their two children, Landyn andHarrison. With degrees from Bluefield College andSouthwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, Zachwill complete his D.Min. in Gospel & Culture atColumbia Theological Seminary in 2010. He iscurrently the Associate Pastor for Education at RidgeRoad Baptist Church in Raleigh.

Contributors

Cathy Payne Anderson

Rick Bennett

Amy Canosa

Tim Conder

Ed Cyzewski

Tripp Fuller

Mike Gregg

Greg Jarrell

Wanda Kidd

Jeanie McGowan

Perry Lee Radford

Michael Raimer-Goodman

Zach Roberts

Christina Whitehouse-Suggs

Chapter 5

GIVE US EARS TO HEARWanda Kidd

A CHURCH CONVERSATION

Not long ago I was asked to be on a panel at a traditional First BaptistChurch in a small southern town. The topic was the Emergent Church phe-nomenon. My role was to speak to the trends that I saw in college ministryand to try to interpret how this new way of thinking affects the local congre-gation. Four of us sat on the small stage: the pastor, who facilitated the event;the associate pastor, who had served on staff for fifteen years; a recent collegegraduate from a Baptist college who had done her senior thesis on emergentchurch issues and trends; and me, a consultant for collegiate ministry with astatewide Baptist group.

The audience was made up of a variety of ages and perspectives. It wasthe second in a series of three sessions hosted by this church to look at someof the issues facing mainline churches. In many ways, the fact that thechurch offered this opportunity for their congregation was proactive becausethese conversations have been slow to take place in the southern part of theUnited States. Long known as the Bible Belt, this area of the South has beenresistant to confronting what is happening to the rest of the country in rela-tion to declining interest in organized religion. We have been slow in lookingat the issues because we have continued to meet our church budgets, hiremultiple staff, take youth groups to camp, and put an army of people on theground in a matter of hours to help feed, clean, and rebuild in the face of anatural disaster.

Eventually, however, we must notice that even in the last bastion ofsacred church tradition, the Sunday morning congregational makeup islargely senior adult, and the age disparity appears to grow wider each week.There is evidence that the exodus begins with high school students and con-tinues until at least their late twenties, but more often than not, it lasts untilthey are in their thirties. If they return to church at all, they are usually moti-

vated by their children reaching the traditional Sunday school ages of threeand four. However, that trend is only applicable to young people who havebeen reared in the church, and that population has diminished steadily forthe last forty years. Eventually, people in the pews have begun to acknowl-edge that something is different, and that they must take action. If not,everything they have known and grown will vanish. That is a sad and terrify-ing thought to most of the people who have built and maintained thereligious monolith, their spiritual and social mainstay throughout their livesand the lives of previous generations.

These realities and emotions were alive and present in our group thatsummer evening. There was skepticism on the part of young people whocame longing for something I am not even sure they had words to express. Ibelieve they were there because they ached to resolve the dissonance they feltwithin themselves about their faith; they desired to stay connected to thechurch of their parents and grandparents and yearned to feel something per-sonal and vibrant in their relationship with Christ. Also present that eveningwere frustrated senior adults who wanted to know how these young peoplecould resolve their issues and move on. Alongside those who asked “how”were grandparents who wanted to stay connected to their grandchildren buthad no language to talk to them about issues of faith.

People caught between rounded out the group. They were both childrenof the frustrated senior adults and parents of the estranged younger genera-tion and were simply trying to figure out how to survive in this tumultuoustime of transition. For them the mantra of life was “Whatever makes youhappy,” and the stressful truth was that no one was happy.

The dialogue was predictable. We talked about worship styles and post-modernism. Some asked questions about how to grow the church and attractyoung people to come to church. Some wondered why other churches weregrowing and they were not. I have been present for many such conversationsin the past decade, but as this conversation came to a close, an interchangecaught my attention. A lovely older man who was obviously a respectedmember of the congregation stood to speak. He put his hands in his pockets,and I saw the people adjust in their seats, preparing for what he had to say.He mentioned that when he was in Florida during WWII, he attended FirstBaptist Church and walked the aisle at the end of his first service therebecause that is what his church covenant told him to do. He said the peoplewere welcoming and loving, and he knew he had found a safe place to formcommunity while he was stationed there for three months. Furthermore (I

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paraphrase here), he could not understand why the youth of today did notsimply join a church, invest their lives, and move along.

Many thoughts and emotions washed over me as I listened. There was astrong, fragrant memory of that reality of trust during my childhood andyouth in church, but I immediately juxtaposed that memory with the rend-ing of trust during my middle years in church. I wanted to weep as I listenedto Mr. Billy speak of his understanding of church and then watched the facesof the young people in the audience who knew little to nothing of that real-ity in their lives. While I sat in my nostalgic haze, a voice beside me cut tothe reality of the unvarnished issue of the evening.

The associate pastor, who had a respectful and honest relationship withthis older man, said, “It is wonderful that you had that experience, Billy, butI don’t hear that you truly want to have a conversation with young people.What I hear is that you will listen to them so that you can tell them whythey are wrong and how they should feel about the church, and until theyfeel the way that you do, they will continue to be wrong.” He continued bysaying that this was not conversation and that nothing would be changed,solved, or moved forward until ideas like Mr. Billy’s changed.

I was stunned. For one thing, I was impressed that a person in leadershipcourageously and respectfully verbalized a deep conviction in a public forumto the person with whom he disagreed. I was equally delighted with the eldergentleman’s gracious acceptance of the differing opinion. My second thoughtwas a sense of grief that this was such a rare occurrence. Immediately on theheels of that thought was a strong awareness once again of the shortage andnecessity of listening to the “whys” rather than the “hows” when speaking toyoung adults about issues of faith, fear, and trust.

Not long after that evening, I stopped by that church and talked to theassociate pastor. I told him how I was struck by his exchange with Mr. Billy.He laughed and said he and Billy had a trusting relationship that allowedthem to speak truth to each other. He gave me several examples of past dis-cussions that had brought them to a level of honesty. As I turned to leave,my friend stopped me with a question. He said, “Do you think young adultsare looking for the type of trust that Billy spoke about?” Without hesitation,I said, “I think they want it more than ever, only they don’t know what itlooks like or how to go about obtaining it.”

He shook his head and said, “We’re really in trouble, aren’t we?” Thatrealization hung in the air as we parted.

GIVE US EARS TO HEAR 59

GENERATIONS APART

We indeed face issues in church life today that continue to repeat themselveswith little progress in hearing or seeing each other’s perspective. I am almostat peace with everyone’s unwillingness to change, but what continues toamaze me is the inability of us all to accept and appreciate how our theologyreflects our reality. We have all grown from the seeds planted in our lives. Itwould be monumental if we could accept, appreciate, and affirm that regard-less of our generation.

Those in our churches who grew up during the Great Depression andlived through World War II were part of a generation that understood sacri-fice and endurance. They were shaped by a world that said you must providefor yourself and those you love because no one else will save you. Theycounted only on themselves, their families, their communities, and Jesus.Entitlement was a virtually unknown concept. The New Deal was just that:it was a new and short-term solution to address what they believed was atemporary crisis. The goal of the initiative was to help people get back ontheir feet and start from modest means to provide a better life for thoseaffected by the Depression. Living through that reality bred a theology thatis almost inexplicable to their grandchildren, but it is the reality of those whobuilt the churches on the main streets and back roads of our country. Whatthey were taught to value and the way they invested their lives have broughtus to this point in time.

I recently had a conversation with a new seminary graduate from a pres-tigious university. She expressed her frustration that some of the older voicesin theological conversations today seem to be so out of step with present-dayseminarians. She said they talk almost exclusively about pulling themselvesup by their bootstraps and place a disproportionate emphasis on individualresponsibility in issues of the Christian faith.

She said the focus in her theological education centered on communityand shared responsibility, and she thought these elders were too self-absorbedto see what she considered to be the larger picture facing the church today. Irealized I hear the same conversation in reverse when I listen to the peoplewho frustrate her. They lament that young people are missing the point.They express frustration with the young adults who feel they deserve thesame portion of power and prestige as those who have been in the trenchesand fought the hard fight for decades. They believe members of the younger

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generation have not paid their dues and are going to throw away everythingolder generations have worked hard to build.

The irony is that both perspectives have merit. The “greatest genera-tion’s” theology reflects a “pull yourself up by your bootstrap” reality, and theyounger generation’s theology reflects their group project, latchkey, “fear ofstrangers,” and “whatever makes you happy” reality.

Today’s young adults are the manifestation and fruition of the men andwomen who dreamed of better things for their children and grandchildren.When they came home from WWII in the late 1940s, they immediatelyinvested in the future. They labored for their descendants to have comfort-able homes, educational opportunities, and less strenuous career choices.They sacrificed to provide luxuries that were unimaginable in their youth,and they wanted their children and grandchildren to learn to live in peace. Itis amazing how quickly those desires for future generations became theexpectations of those who followed.

The expectations and sense of entitlement embraced by following gener-ations have created a cultural climate that is virtually disconnected from thedriving force that created these opportunities. We speak of global warming’simpact on the environment as a result of our extravagant behavior, but ourlukewarm theological environment is in many ways a result of our discon-nection from each other. The conversation about how we got here and wherewe are headed lacks mutuality. The generations that make up our theologicalethos are neither listening to nor hearing each other.

The stratification of our churches has for all intents and purposesremoved any opportunity for conversation between various generations.From birth, children are put into groups that rarely interact with othergroups. They stay together with few adults entering their lives throughouttheir childhoods, and then when they reach adolescence, a mentor is hiredand the church views them as “the youth group.” They are showcased whenthey come back from trips and talk about their experience. Adults cook andeven serve meals to nameless students who line up and pass with little or nointeraction. Unlike my experience growing up, we speak of them as ouryouth, not Sarah Smith, who is Bill and Jean’s girl.

The same isolation and anonymity is true of adults who create mini-churches within their Sunday school classes and other church gatherings.They live out their convictions without ever having to acknowledge thatthere has been a seismic shift concerning issues of faith. They fail to realizethat even the people in the pew do not know the biblical stories that inform


a shared understanding of issues. They choose to ignore that people’s reli-gious choices are many and varied. They are oblivious to the fact that thetheological question is not simply “should I be a Christian?” but “should I bea Christian, a Buddhist, a Muslim, or a pagan?” The crisis facing ourchurches is much larger than how to grow a Sunday school that wouldimpress rival churches. The fabric of faith is unraveling, and the task beforeus is to decide what to create from the remnants.

First and foremost, we must talk about things that matter in ourChristian gatherings. We must create opportunities for conversation acrossgenerational experiences, for storytelling and name recognition. Communityis a bankrupt concept if the exchanging of ideas, dreams, hopes, and promiseis held only within one segment of the people. There is no community with-out communication, appreciation, and understanding. True communityengages and welcomes a variety of perspectives. It brings dissenters to thetable and includes them in the conversation, rather than making outcasts ofthem. People with whom we disagree may have the word that moves us tothe next painful but necessary step of being who Christ calls us to be. It ishard to test the spirit of someone with whom we have no relationship; it isimpossible to listen to the wisdom or pain of someone whose voice we haverefused to hear. We must become “generationally” bilingual. We must askboth why and how we got here and why and how we can move on fromhere.

Addressing an issue within an institution that shares a history and anunderstanding of core values usually begins with questions such as “How arewe going to fix this?” or “What are we going to do now?” Those questionshave served our churches well over the past millennium. The shared under-standing was that as believers in Jesus Christ, we needed to construct the bestand biggest programs, buildings, and memberships that we could for theglory of God. We were kingdom builders, and that was unquestionably thegoal of everything we did. Therefore, “what to do” and “how to get it done”was a full-time calling. It was and is a wonderful passion, but somewherealong the way we lost our story. We failed to share the basic “whys” of whatbrought us to this moment in a shared Christian experience. Before mostyoung adults can get to the “hows” of a situation, they need to know “why”we are here at all. What seems obvious to the people who have built thechurch that brought us to this juncture is a mystery to those who want to bepart of its future. I am not sure why we are so resistant to the “why” ques-

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tion, but it is a major stumbling block to our shared future as communitiesof faith.

The unspoken attitude that says, “If you don’t know what’s going on,you probably don’t need to be here,” must change if the present church trulydesires to be part of the future of Christian formation. We must address ourfears and honestly and compassionately be willing to speak a word of hope,knowledge, and truth to a world that desperately wants to embrace not anideology of religion, but a relationship, a meaningful connection with theCreator and the Shaper of lives.

The time is narrowing for the two generations to influence each other,and it will be a tragedy if we continue to withhold the riches that we allbring to the table. Somewhere over the past forty years, the fabric of trust inour world and the church has ruptured. Those in control of the assets andpower of the organized church have at times developed a bunker mentality.Fear of loss has sequestered us from each other, but more importantly it hascut us off from the mission of the Christian gospel.

Why should we want to change? Why should we want to reach out andpossibly lose our possessions or be hurt by someone’s rejection? Why do weneed to seek the lost, the lonely, and the disenfranchised? The answer is atthe heart of the Christian gospel. It is what we have been called to do. Wemust not be afraid to ask the “why” questions. We all need to remember ourpurpose, our story, and mostly our Christ, who will encourage, embolden,and empower us to love again.

One of the fears of the how-askers is that the why-askers will never movebeyond the exploration stage, but that fear is like being positive that everystage your firstborn enters is where he or she will remain stuck for a lifetime.People move on, they grow, and they want to affect the world they inhabit.They will get to the how, and they need someone to guide them when theyarrive.

Trust takes time, however. It takes patience and presence. Developingtrust is not for the fainthearted. It involves risk and uncertainty. Trust build-ing is hard work. It means speaking to some people who come to yourchurch ten times before they respond. There is the possibility that they willreject our ideas and the things we hold sacred, but there is also the promisethat we might make a connection that changes lives. When individualsbelieve their stories are safe within a relationship and that the desire of othersis that they be whole and valued, trust germinates and has the possibility of


maturing people who can eventually reach out to others with the same will-ingness to risk.

When young adults come into our churches, we have expectations thatare possibly beyond their present capabilities. This generation of youngpeople has been reared in a culture of fear. From birth, they have beeninstructed never to speak to an adult stranger, never to take food from astranger, and never to let an adult stranger touch them. When they come toour churches, we are often offended by their lack of friendly response whenwe speak to them and ask personal questions, invite them to eat with us, andwant to hug them during meet and greet time. It is not that they do notwant to build relationships; they are simply handicapped in developing trust,and in many ways we are responsible. Be patient and unwrap the possibilitiesof community gently. We must let them know that we will wait for themand that we are deserving of their trust. Then we must be trustworthy.

Conversely, young adults need to be challenged by people they trust tolift their heads, learn people’s names, and invest in people’s lives. It might berisky, but it is a necessary step in living in community. I was stunned when astudent told me ten weeks into the semester that he did not know his profes-sor’s name. When I asked him why, he had no reason; he just didn’t think itwas important. The cultural myopia of young adults will certainly limit theiropportunities to be enriched by the wisdom and richness of multigenera-tional relationships. I think of my professors who encouraged me andopened doors for me, and now I have the privilege of providing transporta-tion to Sunday worship each week for one of those mentors.

Growing from recipient of care to provider of care is a privilege of lifelived out not only in our families of origin, but in the larger family of faithfor untold generations. This value of kinship was modeled, was valued bypeople who shaped our lives, was learned by osmosis, but all of these learn-ing experiences require people who are willing to risk the uncertainty ofrelationships. If we fail to see each other respectfully as people of value andworth, we live in danger of losing that connection and the opportunity toimpact each other

The impact one person has by naming the value and hope in anotherperson is one of the most underused practices in our communities of faithtoday. Foundations have invested millions of dollars in conversation about“call” in the lives of younger generations, and it is wonderful to bring thisconversation to the forefront. However, nothing replaces the influence of arespected mentor looking into the face of a young person and saying, “I seein you gifts and worth that can be used for the ongoing mission of the king-

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dom of God.” Furthermore, “There is a place for you in leadership atChrist’s table, and I value what you bring to ministry.” For a myriad of rea-sons, we squander opportunity after opportunity to bless those peoplehungry for a word of hope. All of the reasons seem based in fear, and it istime that we all move through the fear to offer hospitality and invitation.

A LISTENING PROJECT

When I worked on my doctorate of ministry, the last requirement for gradu-ation was the infamous project. Its proposed purpose was to help the studentfocus on an area of concern in one’s congregation that could use attention.Since my congregation was made up solely of college students, I wanted todo something related to evangelism. Evangelism was and is an emotionallycharged concept that is used to delineate Christians as evangelical or not.

Leonard Sweet was the dean of my program, and he said something thefirst day of class that made me want to explore this issue. I needed to viewthis idea of evangelism from the perspective of young adults, what thechurch was saying and not saying, and the value that might be gained if wespent more time listening.

Dr. Sweet said, “Young postmoderns don’t want to hear our story. Theywant us to hear their story, and we must be able and equipped to help themsee how Christ has been a part of their story all along.” I called my project“Listening Evangelism” and gathered a spectrum of twelve students to helpme live out this idea. It took us twelve weeks, and the last stage was an inter-pretation of each of their personal gospels based on three questions: Whendid Jesus change your life? How did that affect your life? What impact hasyour life had on the world entrusted to us with the gospel?

We spent the last evening of the Listening Evangelism group as we spentthe previous two group gatherings, with student volunteers interpreting the“personal gospels” of the other group members. On this last evening, onlyone student remained who needed to listen as two of her peers interpretedher gospel for the group. Like the others, her gospel was to address the threequestions above.

The two who were assigned to reflect on this person’s gospel had beengiven three weeks to pray and ponder what they would say about her writtenoffering. They had both come to my office to talk about what they shouldsay to her. A great deal of pain was evident in her writings, and the inter-


preters were concerned about how to approach her story within the groupsetting.

Throughout the weeks of the project meetings, the young woman’s suf-fering had been obvious to the group. Her demeanor and body languagespoke of her struggle, but we were all at a loss as to how to help her. I knewsome of the sources of her pain, but there did not seem to be any way toreach through her personal hell to touch her. It was difficult to watch, butliving it was obviously more painful for her. Throughout the semester, Ihoped for a sign of healing in her eyes, but it was never there. Amazingly, shewas able to maintain her schoolwork and her day-to-day living. Her tenacityand her will to survive were nothing less than heroic.

During most of the group’s sessions, she sat in fetal position in either thecorner of the sofa or an individual chair. She seemed detached and disinter-ested in the proceedings of the group. Often she left the room in tears. Onmore than one occasion, she and I talked outside the group, and I gave herpermission to step out of the project, but each time she expressed a strongdesire to stay. Her best friend was in the group, and she thought it wasimportant to stay connected. However, about four weeks into the groupprocess, she came to me and said she needed to leave the group. I told herthat I hated to see her leave, but I would honor her decision.

I had mixed emotions about her leaving. She needed to stay connectedto a community of faith while she dealt with whatever was so crippling toher. My ambivalence was moot when she walked into the group session thefollowing Sunday night and came to every other meeting for the duration ofthe project. The group absorbed her tortured presence without comment.

As we came to the final meeting, however, there was a mixture of reliefand sadness in the room that was more encompassing than this particularstudent’s pain. They knew that night was an ending, and they were sad forthe impending loss of community. However, there was one more piece ofwork that needed to be carried out, and we had to be faithful to the call.

As everyone settled into their places, one of the interpreters cut her eyesat me in a pleading manner. She did not want to be the first one to explainthe gospel before us that evening. There was a moment of silence, and thenthe other interpreter jumped in and said, “Well, I want to talk about thisgospel.”

This particular student interpreter brought several things to our group.One was his honesty; the other was the full disclosure of his academic strug-gles as a student. He told the group that he had needed to retake his

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freshman English courses because of his poor grasp of grammar. Therefore,when the first thing that came out of his mouth as he looked at the youngwoman’s written gospel was, “What I see in this are a lot of fragmented sen-tences,” we were amazed. As we stared at him with our mouths agape, hepushed on. He looked purposefully at her and said, “In those fragmentedsentences, I see a lot of brokenness and pain.” He went on to say, “The prob-lem with your paper is that everyone is looking at it this way.” He held upthe peach-colored 8 1/2-x-11-inch paper in its vertical position so that every-one could see the blank verse style of writing on the page. “What they needto do is look at it this way,” he said, and he turned it horizontally. In aninstant, not only did the paper shift, but our perspective did as well.

We saw a graph, an EKG of her spiritual journey. The interpreter beganto point out that at the high points of the graph were words like Messiah,God’s Love, music, home, His heart, and love, and in the valleys were wordslike rage, screaming, anger, alone, and falling apart. There was a stunnedsilence in the room. The young man intently looked at her, and slowly herhead rose and their eyes met. Then he said, “You know what I saw through-out this whole gospel? I saw you looking for Jesus, and I want you to knowthat Jesus is looking for you, and do you know what? Y’all are going to findeach other!”

At that moment, she leapt out of the chair and in the middle of thecircle they embraced. With a tearful hug, she said, “Thank you, Charlie. Ineeded to hear that.”

Don’t we all? Charlie listened to the story of this young woman, heunflinchingly shared her pain, he modeled honesty, and he offered her Hopewith a capital “H.” This is the calling of us all—young or old; introvert orextrovert; old church or new church; modern or postmodern. We are calledto hear and respond to those who surround us, and it is a mighty calling.


Baptist Studies/Culture

Zach Roberts, ed.BAPTIMERGENT

“. . . a rich combination of education, inspiration, provocation, and stimulation.”

—Brian D. McLarenAuthor, A New Kind of Christianity

The time has come for particular confessional tribes within Christianity to reflecton what the burgeoning emergence of the church means to them. Baptimergentis an excellent model of what that reflection can be—plus it’s got chapters bysome of my favorite people in the world. This is a great resource for Baptists andnon-Baptists.

—Tony JonesAuthor, The New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier

Emergent Baptists are those who believe thereis more to God, Jesus, and God’s kingdomthan modern Christianity and its denomina-tional categories have been able to define.Emergent Baptists believe it is incumbentupon us to participate in—and write—thenarrative for our time and place. Like genera-tions before us, we hope to take what ourforefathers and mothers gave us and fashionsomething from it that is our own. This bookcontains some of our first efforts at doing so.

Zach Roberts lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, withhis wife, Jenn, and their two children, Landyn andHarrison. With degrees from Bluefield College andSouthwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, Zachwill complete his D.Min. in Gospel & Culture atColumbia Theological Seminary in 2010. He iscurrently the Associate Pastor for Education at RidgeRoad Baptist Church in Raleigh.

Contributors

Cathy Payne Anderson

Rick Bennett

Amy Canosa

Tim Conder

Ed Cyzewski

Tripp Fuller

Mike Gregg

Greg Jarrell

Wanda Kidd

Jeanie McGowan

Perry Lee Radford

Michael Raimer-Goodman

Zach Roberts

Christina Whitehouse-Suggs

Documents

Baptimergent