University Presbyterian Church

One of the big debates in the U.S. church a couple of decades ago had to do with "seeker sensitivity." Some churches started offering separate, non-traditional worship services and programs for "seekers," i.e., people who were investigating Christianity but had not yet embraced Christ. Many loud voices were raised against the trend, saying that "seeker churches" were watering down the faith, segregating members, compromising with the world, and sacrificing traditions of the past just to get non-Christians in the door. The rancor seems to have died down in recent years. I think both sides have moved toward the center of the debate. Many seeker churches have recognized that non-Christians respond positively to old liturgical practices. And many traditional churches have accommodated to music and worship styles that used to be the terrain of contemporary churches. 

I'm glad the debate has died down, at least in my corner of the country. I'm ready to move beyond worship wars and litmus tests over what makes a church "contemporary" or "traditional" to a concept that's much easier to trace through the Scriptures: the church exists for the people who are not yet in it. We are here not for ourselves, but for others.

In saying that, I'm not denying that the church exists ultimately for the glory of God or that the Word of God is the standard for everything we do. What I'm saying is that when it comes to decisions about programs, worship style, music choices, dress code, decor, signage, use of media, vocabulary, teaching style, and the like, we need to view ourselves as missionaries in a foreign culture. 

When a missionary goes to another country, he or she adapts to the culture of that country and finds ways to connect the unchanging gospel to the people he or she is seeking to evangelize. Similarly, God has called us to be aware of and sensitive to the social context in which he has placed us. Rather than expecting the culture to adapt to us, we need to adapt to our culture. As we do this, and as long as we stay faithful to God's Word, we are simply following Jesus' example. When he came to the earth he adapted to the culture of first-century Palestine. Though he was God, Jesus looked, dressed, talked, ate, drank, hummed and whistled like an ordinary Jew of his day (though without sin). He spoke Aramaic, not some unknown heavenly language. He told stories that made sense to his fellow Jews. He spoke of current events with which they were familiar. He went to their parties and ate at their banquets. He didn't hang a sign outside his door and expect everyone to come hear his teaching at 9:00 and 10:45 a.m. Instead, he visited in their homes, walked down their streets, laughed at their jokes, taught on their hillsides, fished in their lakes, sang their songs, and met their felt needs.

We call this the incarnation. Jesus Christ was God-in-flesh. He was not an alien -- although he believed and taught truths that were very alien to most of the people to whom he ministered. He was holy without being weird. He loved his followers without being tribal.

UPC, and every other Christian church, is called to incarnational ministry. This means that, like Jesus, we are to be holy without being weird, and loving toward one another without being tribal. Though our message will sometimes sound like it came from another planet, it must be shared in the language of the average person and address real needs in their lives. One of our core values at UPC is cultural relevance. This is what I'm talking about. We are to adapt ourselves, our message, and our ministry to the social and cultural context of East Orlando as much as possible, without compromising God's Word.

This explains why I use movie clips in some of my sermons. It explains why we sing worship songs that are fairly easy for a guest to pick up. It explains why we have musicians on stage playing guitars and drums instead of a pipe organ. It explains why we call the area next to our worship space a lobby instead of a foyer or narthex. It explains why I dress casually on Sunday mornings. And it explains why signs, and greeters, and friendly faces, and landscaping, and intelligible vocabulary, and use of quality media and social networking are important. Such things are means of connecting with our community. They make it more likely that non-Christians in East Orlando will find us credible messengers and listen to what we have to say. There's absolutely nothing wrong with singing hymns out of a hymnbook to a pipe organ and listening to a preacher who wears a robe and stands behind a large pulpit. In another community, such things would be a great fit. But they would be out of place in our neighborhood of East Orlando.

What it really boils down to is love of neighbor. A failure to be culturally relevant is a failure to love.

Incarnational ministry is hard. It sometimes creates tension and disagreements inside the church. Sometimes we will differ with one another over the point at which accommodation becomes compromise. We want rules, and there aren't always rules about such things. So we have to work and struggle and sometimes fail together as we seek to build a church that is truly sensitive and relevant to our culture.

But the struggle is worth it. As we adapt ourselves to those not yet in the church, we are growing more like Jesus, who came not to be served but to serve.

What questions or concerns does the idea of incarnational ministry raise for you?