what makes a church look good?

I had lunch yesterday with Kevin Haah, lead pastor of New Life Christian Church (www.newcitychurchla.com) in downtown Los Angeles.  Kevin is the church planter of this multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-socio-economic congregation that's grown to about 250 in just a few years.  New Life is a breath of fresh air on the streets of LA, and is a significant expression of hope in a culture that is in such great need.


Kevin and I talked about a new plan to involve churches in a church planting network (CPN) that would dream, plan, fund and encourage a collection of new church plants in the Los Angeles area.  We also talked about the urban church, and God's design and plan for it. We talked about examples from the book of Acts, from Jerusalem to Antioch and beyond. And we marveled at the ability of that first church to transcend class and cultural boundaries to demonstrate a community unlike anything the world had seen.

We talked about Acts 16 and the first "members" of the church in the city of Philippi.  The first person mentioned was Lydia, a seller of purple (Kevin called her a fashion executive!) who opened her small group of Jews to Paul in a gathering by the river (there was no synagogue in the city where the Jews could meet).  Lydia was a businesswoman, a woman of influence and position and a Jew.  And she found new direction and hope in the message Paul offered.


The second person impacted was a slave girl with a demonic spirit that allowed her foretell the future. Her owners made their living from her abilities...until Paul cast that evil spirit from her and gave her the chance to be what God had designed her to be.  This girl was homeless, bottom-of-the-barrel, even less than human in the eyes of those around her. Yet in Christ she now found her meaning value.


For all their work with this girl, Paul and Silas got tossed into prison, where their willingness to remain intact following the earthquake that freed all the inmates, gave them opportunity to share good news with their jailer and bring him and his family to salvation in Christ.  That man was a blue-collar company man, part of the dominant class, a man who managed the violence of life. But he found his peace through the Prince of Peace.


A female Jewish entrepreneur. A demonized riff-raff slave. A government enforcer.  As different from each other as possible.  Yet they were cornerstone pieces of what was to become the Philippian church.  God never intended for his people to have to look like each other on the outside. To have life experiences in common. To have to come from the same race, culture, class or life direction. In fact, his power and glory are much more powerfully demonstrated when those of us from vastly varied backgrounds find unity and oneness through what he's done for us. Through his sacrifice. His death. His gift of life for the world that he loves so much.

And when we gather around what we do have in common- a Savior who has called us, redeemed us and commissioned us- we create a community unlike anything the world understands. A community where "natural" barriers (e.g. race, culture, class, education, income) mean increasingly less and where love, acceptance, partnership and mutual edification take center stage.  Urban churches...and maybe more and more churches everywhere...must reflect this kind of look, because in so doing we reflect our immediate community.  And in so doing, we also reflect the bigger picture that will one day envelope all those who claim allegiance to Jesus.  That's heaven, of course.  


And if you don't feel comfortable with what I've described now, you're really gonna be disappointed on that Day.

if i were a rich man...

A few weeks ago, when Obama and McCain spoke at Saddleback Church, they were asked about increased taxation for those who were "rich." Of course, the first issue to be settled was how much it takes to be considered rich. Obama mentioned a yearly income of $150,000 as a defining marker (I think he has since upped the amount to $250,000), and McCain jokingly tossed out $5 million as his figure, saying he didn't want to base tax increases simply on personal income.

Political rhetoric, yeah. But I was waiting for the real answer, the answer that most all of us think of when considering what qualifies someone as being rich. It's simple: rich is the guy who has more than me. Because no matter how much I make, I'm just getting by. Therefore, it's the person making more than me who is rich. Told you it's simple.

But what if you and I compare ourselves with another group? Not with those in the high rent districts, but with those living in the rest of the world. If I consider my income and possessions alongside the majority of people on this earth, I quickly realize that I'm the one who is wealthy. I'm the rich person. And so are you. I have scandalously more than most will dare dream of. Ever. And so do you. I've been frivolous with more than most will ever see. And likely, so have you.

But what's that mean in the scope of life's bigger picture? Probably a lot, but for now, at least this: when Jesus talks about riches and rich people, and the issues they face in relation to his kingdom, he's talking about me. To me. And to you. When he says that a camel would have an easier time squeezing through a needle's eye than a rich man making it to heaven, I know that I qualify as that rich man. I don't want to, but I do. Ouch.

Makes me think again about what I have and what I do with it. After all, if it all comes from God, belongs to God, and is to be used for God, it's never mine to begin with. I'm simply supposed to manage it well. Use it wisely. And make the most of it. They say that with great blessing comes great responsibility. You and I are greatly blessed. If you'd go with me to the slums of Nairobi, the streets of India, the hillsides of southeast Asia, or the squalor of Mexico City you'd see it. You'd understand. Maybe you have and you do. I have, and I don't like what I see. Around me. And within me. But I'm rich, and I'm called to figure out what to do about it.

And so are you.