By Rachel Held Evans, April 15, 2012

The new book Letters to a Future Church features the voices of more than 25 of today’s Christian thinkers and thought-leaders. Popular blogger and author Rachel Held Evans is one of the contributors; her letter is featured below in this excerpt from the book. [Visit the Patheos Book Club for more on Letters to a Future Church.]

To the Church in North America,

I write to you as one of your own at a time when many in my generation have abandoned you. As the church in the Third World continues to grow, the church in North America is in Decline. Some are predicting our imminent demise, while others foresee a glorious rebirth. Most seem to think that we’re in the midst of an identity crisis, one that will determine the shape and direction of the North American church for many years to come.

According to the statistics, we are a people of relative prosperity and relative generosity. We control most of the world’s wealth and we give much of it away. Though we struggle with materialism, we value charity. While we want to make the world more just, we don’t always know how to start.

But are we people of the kingdom?

That is the question at the heart of this crisis, and as we struggle together to answer it, I am convinced that we don’t need bigger buildings or fancier sound equipment, better pastors or more parishioners, newer ministries or deeper pockets.

What we need are bigger banquet tables.

Jesus loved banquets. He performed his first miracle at a wedding reception in Canaan, turning jars of tepid water into the finest of red wines. He spent so much time feasting in the homes of sinners that the religious wrote him off as a glutton. When the five thousand were hungry, he served them fish and bread. When the time of his death drew near, he ate dinner with his closest friends. After Peter had denied him three times, he offered redemption over breakfast. It’s as if Jesus knew his message would mean more to us if we could taste and smell it. How fitting that in his absence we remember him by eating together.

When Jesus returns, he plans to throw a great banquet in honor of his bride, the church. It’s an event foreshadowed by the prophet Isaiah who describes it as a east of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine—the best of meats and the finest of wines. (Isaiah 25:6) The apostle John called it the “marriage supper of the Lamb.” Baptists call it one eternal potluck.

We get to enjoy a foretaste of this meal through the communion of the kingdom. Jesus compared the kingdom to a lot of things, but one of his favorite metaphors was that of a feast.”People will come from east and west and north and south,” he said, “and will take their places at the feast in the kingdom of God” (Luke 13:29).

But while everyone is invited, not everyone will come.

Jesus compares the situation to a king hosting a dinner party.

Just as the meal is about to be served, all the rich neighbors cancel, saying they’ve got too much to do. So the king tells his servant to “Go out to the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame. Go out to the roads and country lanes and make them come in, so that my house will be full” (Luke 14:23).

Likewise, when we throw parties, Jesus tells us to invite the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame so that we too will be blessed.

I suspect that Jesus used all this delicious imagery because he knew that there is a difference between feeding people and dining with people.

Feeding people means keeping the hungry at arm’s length. It means sending checks now and then, making thanksgiving baskets once a year, preaching about justice, and launching new ministries—all while sitting comfortably at the head of a tiny table, dropping scraps of our abundance to the floor.

Americans are good at feeding people.

But dining with people is an entirely different matter. Dining together means sitting next to one another and brushing arms, passing the bread basket and sharing the artichoke dip. It means double-dipping and spilling drinks, laughing together and crying together, exchanging stories, ideas, recipes and dreams. According to Jesus it means leaving the seat at the head of the table ceremoniously empty so that all are guests of honor and all are hosts. Dining together isn’t charity; it’s friendship.

For the church in North America to grow in a good way, we need to break down the distinction between those who serve and those who are served. The abundance must truly be shared. At the local level this may mean hosting literal banquets, complete with Jesus-style invitation lists. At the global level, it means sacrificing some of our own comforts so that when we care for our faraway neighbors we can still feel their presence beside us at the table.

In every case, it means slowing down long enough to savor both the food and the company. It means admitting that we need our neighbors as much as they need us.

So let’s build bigger banquet tables.

Let’s eat fruit that’s in season and drink coffee that’s fairly traded so that Latin farmers can join us at the table with their heads held high. Let’s share the reputation of Jesus and dine with those who the religious love to hate—gays and lesbians, divorcees, single moms, junkies, dreamers and doubters. Let’s squeeze in a little tighter to make enough room for people of all political persuasions, all religious backgrounds, all ethnicities and all denominations.

Let’s eat a little less so that everyone has enough, and let’s linger longer so that everyone gets a chance to share what’s on their mind. Let’s invite the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame so that our house will always be full.

Taken from Letters to a Future Church: Words of Encouragement and Prophetic Appeals edited by Chris Lewis. Copyright(c) 2012 by Chris Lewis. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press PO Box 1400 Downers Grove, IL 60515. www.ivpress.com.

peace & blessings, Pam

Rev. Pamela J. Tinnin

Walking past the gaggle of smokers outside the undercroft of Trinity Church in downtown Asheville, I stumble down the steps into a room buzzing with people greeting and enjoying each other. This is truly a church:  Not in the sense of a building, but in the original sense of “church”. This church is simply the connected spirit of its members. It could meet anywhere and still be that same church.

This is not to say there are no props and symbols. There’s a cross which brings to mind the sense of the hymn, “The Old Rugged Cross”. It appears to be constructed from gnarly roots bound together with vines and rough twine, reflecting the rugged spirit and condition of many of the people in this room. On the wall is a sign reminding us that we are all gifted, just some of us open our gifts sooner than others.

There is a joyous hubbub in the room. A few are sitting alone in contemplation or out of shyness. Most are greeting and catching up with friends. I feel the love being shared here.

I meet a former paratrooper. His jumping career has left him with the nagging pain of sciatica and nasty looking ankle injury. I muse whether the Airborne Division thinks about him and his retired comrades or whether they are working on ways to make jumping safer. We joke about how absurd it is to jump out of a perfectly stable aircraft.

There’s a bright, ageless man in the corner with few teeth but with a wonderful Mongol hat sporting four tassels. I empathize with his lack of teeth. I’m currently missing two adjacent molars, myself. He rises in place to read one of the lessons. He does it with the strong authority for whom the words are real, present, and not just ancient text to him. His reading rings out!

A loving woman with marvelous posture testifies that her other church is a twelve-step program. She wears an amazing Rastafarian braid coiled over her head and down her back. I imagine the braid could be as long as nine-feet if let fall. She testifies to the power of love. There are bright stars of hope in her eyes.

I tease a deacon about her referring to the Holy Spirit as “she” while she converses with a visiting priest. Both were women. They tease back… “You are among women. What do you expect?”

Another man with little of his own save a beautiful reddish-brown puppy brought the dog with him. I believe that The City of Asheville won’t allow him to tie it out while he worships. Another person brings a cute pug “service dog” and begins to chatter nervously at high speed perhaps to distance herself from the demons that she perceives are following her.

Father Ham Fuller starts the service. The room becomes not quiet, but quieter. He reminds us the God is on our side, and as we truly recognize this, we all become freer. We pray for others. Most of them they know. There was a sister raped yesterday. We pray for her. A car had hit another, who as a child was part of the Cathedral parish. We pray for her. We pray for those in jail. Many in this congregation have been there at one time or another. Now, I have personally known a few people who were sent to prison. But these were greedy people guilty of high crimes. I suspect most of the jail terms meted out to these people result of a desperate need for food or for some substance that might ease the pain of daily existence.

During the service, the smokers and others filter in from the street. If any appear to be uncertain about being there, they are welcomed. The comings and goings of people remind me of a Catholic wedding ceremony I once attended where strangers continuously flowed to and from confession which was held concurrently with the service.

Father Ham stands before the crowd and “teaches” his sermon much as I imagine Jesus might have taught before the crowds. Not in fancy robe, but wearing a collar and an old green cardigan sweater. Since it is the second Sunday in Advent, he reminds us that it wasn’t the advent of Santa Claus that we await but none other than the Christ Child Himself. The first lesson is from Isaiah prophesying the coming of a messenger.  The Gospel is about that messenger, John, the Baptizer saying, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord!”

Through dialog with those who wish to participate, Father Ham makes the point that the preparation is to be done by each one of us by searching our souls to exorcise our transgressions against our God and community. Two women, one with a baby in a sling around her neck sing a duet, mostly in thirds and sixths, Prepare ye the way of the Lord from Godspell.

We celebrate the Eucharist. The bread is a huge round loaf; I think a gift from City Bakery. After sanitizing his hands, Father Ham tears off a substantial piece for each of us and personally places it in our hands. The bread is perfect! One can actually chew it while contemplating the mystery of Holy Communion. The “Wine” is actually grape juice prepared by a process invented in 1869 by Thomas Welsh as a non-alcoholic wine intended for Methodist Communion. This was served in individual Dixie cups distributed by young girls from the Holy Cross Church, Tryon. One of the girls has a plastic bag to receive our spent cups.

A lay minister walks among us offering blessings and anointment with holy oil. Is it olive oil? 10-w-30? What? A question for another time. I know this woman, but today she glows with a special love for all of us. She anoints me. I’m remembering the woman who anointed Jesus with precious nard.

The service ends as we confess of our transgressions against God and each other and ask each other and God to forgive us.

Passing the Peace follows the service. After that, lunch, prepared and served by the generous people of the Tryon Church is ready. As one might expect, more people filter in from the street at the last minute, seeking a good hot meal.

The “clothes closet” opens. The line for that was nearly as long as the line for food. Clearly, there is an unmet need at the Church of the Advocate clothes closet.

I depart lifted up by these loving people. I won’t become a regular member, but shall return. Soon!

by John Hickman, December 2011

Dear Friends in Christ,

As Christmas approaches, we are busy preparing for our big holiday dinner on Sunday, Dec 18th, a time for food, fellowship, and a time when we give much-needed and appreciated gifts to those in our community who are grateful for even the most basic necessities. We are writing to you because you have been a part of this holy and joyous event and have blessed us with your support. Last year we stopped counting at 275 men, women, and children. Chaos and wonder were the order of the day, the Incarnate Christ was present and celebrated, and all were blessed.This year, we are planning to offer a new and exciting experience. Everyone will receive a gift bag with basic essentials (listed below), and then, through a lottery system where everyone gets a random number that will determine the order in which they “shop,” they will take turns going into “St. Nicholas’ Gift Shop” to pick out a gift of their choosing. Once everyone has had a chance to choose a gift, everyone will be allowed to return to select other gifts. This way, folks will be able to choose what they most want and need from the items we receive. Please join others in helping to ensure that this holiday tradition is a great outpouring of blessing and joy for all who come.