Jesus and John Wayne: Just History

How did the American church become so fractured?

At the end of 2020, Liveright Publishing released a book that attempted to address this issue. In Jesus and John Wayne, How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation, Kristen Kobes Du Mez explores the recent history of the American church, specifically, from an evangelical perspective. Du Mez is a professor of history and gender studies at Calvin College, a Christian Reformed university in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She brings a level of scholarship to a topic that has engulfed many Christians throughout the pandemic: when and why did American evangelicals become obsessed with political power? Du Mez suggests that this has been decades in the making, the result of a flawed faith system, and in reality, a religion constructed on masculinity and nationalism.

Du Mez isn't the first person to launch such a critique, nor is she the first academic to take a research-based approach to explaining it. Yet her book is striking a chord, resonating with readers both Christian and skeptic alike. Du Mez thoughtfully exposes topics that evangelicals have long ignored. As a result, this is an important work and should push the American church to do better as we wield the gospel.

While I appreciate her desire to make American Christians address the missteps of our forefathers, I was also extremely frustrated while reading Jesus and John Wayne As someone who agrees with her on multiple points, there were many times when I felt her math was mistaken. In my view, Du Mez was selective with her research, avoiding key counterpoints, to prove her hypothesis.

If you haven’t read the book, you might want to stop reading my take. Or perhaps you may want to use my thoughts as a primer before you dive into the book. Regardless, I took copious notes of Jesus and John Wayne thinking that I’d write a multitiered reflection on it. But because I want this to be a constructive critique, I focus on the titular character and what I believe Du Mez misses in her analysis of the American church’s understanding of masculinity and nationalism.

DECONSTRUCTING JOHN WAYNE
Throughout the book, the author suggests a generation of Christian men (and in turn, most of American Christianity) were influenced by the masculinity of John Wayne. Essentially I was one of those men. I didn’t arrive there through happenstance: my father was a veteran of the Vietnam War and part of the bonding experience he and my brothers participated in was watching John Wayne movies. Du Mez suggests this was an indoctrination, but I feel that she overstates that influence. While a fan of “the Duke,” I was also a child of the 1980’s; John Wayne died when I was three. I always viewed him as an historical figure; he was fascinating, but not an idol.

And while Du Mex uses Wayne’s life and movie career to define the current Christian patriarchy, she overlooks some key parts of his story. In fact, she avoids what is perhaps the most definitive role of his movie career.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance is one of the most lauded of John Wayne’s films. In 1962 director John Ford, who was in the twilight of his career, decided to make a movie featuring two aging stars: John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart. It was shot on a Hollywood soundstage so missing in production are the sweeping views of the Wild West that Ford featured in Stagecoach and She Wore A Yellow Ribbon. Ford is one of the most prolific directors of American westerns and could be credited with making John Wayne a star. An aside I’ve always found fascinating: Ford devoted the years of the Second World War to using his skills in the fight against the Nazis; a navy commander, he was actually present on Omaha Beach on D-Day.

The hyper-masculinity that many associate with John Wayne was in fact the creation of John Ford.

If you’ve never watched Liberty Vallance, I’d suggest it or, at the very least, read Roger Ebert’s review of it. The movie is a flashback, a story told by a successful senator (Jimmy Stewart) who established his career in a wild west town. Returning to the town to attend the funeral of the cowboy (John Wayne), the senator’s arrival is a newsworthy event. The local newspaper, represented by a young reporter and a seasoned editor, press the senator to recount the event that made him successful: he was thrust onto a national stage because (spoiler alert) he shot the nefarious Liberty Vallance. Yet unbeknownst to the public, the senator’s defining moment of heroism was the action of the cowboy.

The central thesis of the movie is the exercise of power. The senator was a peace-loving man who believed in the rightness of law. The cowboy, the only character who stands up to Vallance, believes that violence is the only resort to challenge a corrupt bully. The cowboy struts along as he always does in John Wayne movies but, in the end, it’s the man of law and justice who survives and thrives.

With this movie, Ford lays to rest the mystique of John Wayne; he does this literally, as the movie centers around his character's funeral. Yes, Ford created the immortal image of the romanticized pioneer who tamed the range but in Liberty Vallance, life goes on without John Wayne. And, in fact, his death ushers in a new era. No longer is the projection of masculinity the gunslinging, punch-wielding cowboy but rather the gentle senator who not only gets the girl, but spends the movie standing up for the disenfranchised (women and minorities).

RECONSTRUCTING HISTORY
My breakdown of a movie made six decades ago seemingly has nothing in common with American Christianity, but it’s apt if we are to accept Du Mez’s articulation of the American church today. She opines that hyper-masculinity and nationalism are the cause of the fracture of the American church. If this is the case, we need to clearly delineate all the historical events that speak into this. My diatribe on The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance stands as a contradiction to her thesis. How does John Ford’s final commentary on Western masculinity impact the current trajectory of the American church?

In response, I’m assuming that Du Mez would reject my take as either an outlier or a superfluous critique. But as a John Wayne movie fan (I also enjoy professional wrestling, so my culture palate is diverse), I can’t imagine avoiding Liberty Vallance when considering his career. To be clear, Du Mez offers anecdotes from Wayne’s personal life (most importantly, some of his racist comments) as an amplifier of this trend toward toxic masculinity. But she blurs the lines between the characters portrayed by John Wayne and what he personally believed. This, in my view, takes the critique beyond the work of the historian to that of cultural interpretation.

In a recent New York Times article, Du Mez highlighted the criticism she’s received from evangelicals about her book. When considering the impact her words could have on Christianity, she rejected any potential negative outcomes of her work by nothing that it’s purely history and “history isn’t a marketing campaign to win converts.”

Du Mez understands it as just history. This is why I struggled with the book: it’s more than just history.

Even though Du Mez is a trained historian, she identifies as a follower of Jesus and works at a Christian seminary. I’d argue that the reason the Du Mez’s book gained such popularity is because of her role on the faculty of a seminary. Her critique comes from what the masses perceive as a pastoral position. There’s a preference among scholars to view their contributions as merely academic endeavors—somehow staking a position participating in a process that hovers above orthopraxy (the practice of faith). But in situations like this, it is impossible to divorce the history (the collection/systemization of a series of events) from practical theology. Like it or not, her words have greater weight than that of a simple academician. It’s accepted as work of theology.

To be fair, Du Mez does solid work as a historian; her citations are many and diverse. But in her desire to prove her hypothesis correct, she approaches history more selectively than a secular theologian would. She takes advantage of the pastoral position to prove a case: American Christians refuse to address the flawed figures of our past. Even if she’s right, it’s not just history; it’s commentary on evangelicalism.

There’s nothing wrong with subjectivity unless you’re suggesting that it’s actually fact. And this isn’t to say that Du Mez doesn’t offer some compelling facts that many in the evangelical world have avoided Her blindspot, however, is exposed as she discusses those who have committed wrongs. For example, I take issue with Du Mez’s merciless critique of Billy Graham for his missteps. While his transgressions (his political exploits and hesitation to support parts of the Civil Rights struggles) should be confronted, they needn’t negate other areas of life where he made considerable positive impact; in fact, I appreciated the recent PBS documentary on Graham’s life (apparently directed by a non-Christian) that acknowledged personal failings but showing he learned from and moved beyond them. All humans have highs and lows; we should be careful not to summarize one’s contributions by their extremes.

CONFRONTING CYNICISM
Again I repeat that Du Mez’s work is important because American Christians can’t continue to ignore the skeletons in our closest. We should own the scandalous parts of our past as the current times make transparency inevitable. Jesus taught that the evil hate the light because their evil deeds will be illuminated (John 3); the digital world have made His words a reality. I’m thankful for Du Mez’s passion in exposing the sins of masculinity and nationalism yet her tone is far too cynical for my taste. If that’s how I, someone who agrees with many of her assertions, interprets the book, how can it be a force for positively impact? Unfortunately, this is lacking.

The effectiveness of biblical Christianity is rooted in the power of Gospel. And the power of the Gospel is realized in the application of redemption. While the hyper-masculinity and nationalism in the American church today bring me sadness, I cannot find any benefit in a complete rejection of anything associated with American evangelicalism. This movement is no more noble than any of its predecessors, but neither does it deviate from the template. All movements are flawed but the failings of humanity are redeemed by Christ. Sanctification is an elusive goal, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying.

The book led my thoughts to my father, who instilled in me a love John Wayne movies. He was not a war-monger; in fact, I can count on one hand how many times he discussed specific experiences from his time serving in Vietnam. He witnessed firsthand the brutality of war and was able to separate cinema from reality. He was my model of masculinity and nationalism and, in all things, his understanding of them were rooted in Christian identity. Yet I felt that Du Mez convicts him as guilty by association. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional (she has never met my father), but when we speak on spiritual things, we must always be pastoral. Otherwise, all we’ve done is throw logs on the fire of cynicism.

Cynicism is incompatible with the Gospel. This doesn’t mean we are forbidden to critique, but I believe Christians must follow deconstruction with reconstruction. The story of the Gospel is a story of hope through which we should consider all other human history. Yes, we’re still forced to confront evil and misdeeds, but we recognize that evil is powerless when compared to the message of Christian Scriptures. In the end, the Lord will rights all wrongs. In the end, corrupted systems and ideologies give way to the kingdom of God.

At the end of The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance the characters struggle with what to do with their newfound truth; reality was far more complex than they ever imagined. When the newspaper editor nixes the true story the senator asks why. He responds, “this is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

In an inverted sense, this is what Du Mez decided with the recent history of American evangelicalism: she told a great story. Yet in order to accomplish this, she amplified all the wrongs and refused to give credit to the good it’s accomplished. The story of the church (yes, even the American church) cannot be fully told unless intertwined with the story of the Gospel—the continued journey of a people in pursuit of God while needing redemption.

That’s more than just history.

Slow Down To Remember

Now that we’re slowly emerging from the pandemic, we need to grapple with the grief we’ve experienced.

One of the small losses that I’ve personally felt was the cancellation of road races. As a long-distance runner who’s completed multiple marathons a year for over a decade, I had no goal for my training. Even though it saddens me, it’s also provided a welcome break. While I love staying in shape, the long runs needed to build endurance really eat up free time on the weekend.

In my marathon training, I enjoy running across the city toward Spring Grove, the largest cemetery in Cincinnati. As you head into back into the city from there, the most route (and the flattest) is Spring Grove Avenue, an expansive road featuring endless industrial warehouses. It’s a veritable ghost town on weekends, and with an established bike lane to boot, it’s an ideal road for a long run. Urban solitude is how I describe it.

A few years ago I was out on a Saturday working a fifteen mile run and I was all alone on Spring Grove Avenue. Ahead in the distance I saw flashing lights and realized a funeral procession was headed my way. I had enough time to think about how I should react: should I continue along or pause and pay respects? I really hate to pause when out for a long run; it can be devastating to lose momentum when you still have miles left to go. Still, it felt incredibly disrespectful to be out enjoying my weekend while those driving by were experiencing grief. And since there was no one else around me, I felt whatever response I chose would be easily seen.

I paused on the sidewalk, took of my hat, and stood there until the procession had passed.

I was reminded about it last week when I was driving and a funeral procession passed in front of me at the traffic light. As I paused I noticed a driver on a side street looking quite annoyed. Predictably, the motorist cut off the procession, wove in and out of the line, and then passed the procession on the outside lane. While I was instantly angry, my rage turned to sadness for the driver.

What could have been so important in their day that a ninety second pause was simply too long?

Of the many lessons we’ve learned in the past twelve months, I’m hoping that we’ve rediscovered the virtue of patience.

Like most task oriented folk, I get annoyed at the inconvenience of pausing progress. I want what I want and I want it now. But even in my desire to live on the cutting edge, I rarely reflect that I’d be better off not to pause. If the respite progresses toward reflection, my future decision making will be even better.

And I would hope that, with the great loss we’ve all experienced in the last twelve months, a reminder of our mortality should help us prioritize our actions and effectiveness in the world.

Today we’re slowing down for the procession or we’re in the midst of it.

One day, we’ll be in the casket.

So slow down to remember. The small act of pausing for funeral processions is a good start.

Even though we all have a lot to do, we’d benefit from reflecting on the loss we’ve experienced. Hitting pause is the least we can do to see the bigger picture of life.

On Accountability

I paused a few weeks before offering my thoughts on the revelations concerning Ravi Zacharias. Not providing links here as you either already know about it or you can find it elsewhere on the web.

Perhaps the main reason for my silence is that this hit close to home. In a previous job, I planned an entire event around Zacharias—a seminar and fundraiser with a few thousand attending to hear him teach. Since I was involved in logistics, I only met Ravi briefly but I spent considerable time around his team (specifically Nabeel Qureshi who, unfortunately, passed away from cancer at a young age). Both my wife and I have friendships with people holding strong ties to his ministry, so there’s a deep sadness for us now.

It’s important to immediately address that there were countless victims of Zacharias’ predatory actions and we cannot ignore the pain forced upon them. Not only was there abuse but spiritual manipulation was used to cover it up; it seems as though he guilted victims into silence suggesting that people would lose faith if his crimes were known. While lamenting the unthinkable damage he inflicted on these women, and praying for their comfort in the aftermath, I also fear for Ravi as he appears before the throne of God; Scripture attests that spiritual leaders will be held to a higher standard for their actions and he used his position as a faith leader to commit grievous sins.

So while there is much to be learned from this failure, looking for lessons does not in any way negate the experience of the victims. In fact, it’s important for both religious leaders and their organizations to do some soul searching to prevent such abuse from taking place under their watch. While many have offered ideas of how such abuse of power can be curtailed, I want to identify something I believe Scripture teaches that Christian leaders often ignore.  

RETHINKING ACCOUNTABILITY
Many Christians maintain a hierarchical view of Christian authority, viewing wisdom and spiritual maturity within a pyramid structure. While it’s most commonly referred to today as celebrity culture, it existed long before the days of church conferences and social media. We Christians tend to elevate certain personalities toward higher spiritual status. Most consistently, this occurs when those leaders self-assert that they are worthy of a position of authority. In light of this there are cynics who desire a non-structural Christian experience, but this overcorrection isn’t necessarily helpful. Read the New Testament and you’ll observe that believers have different gifts. Some of those gifts are more public in nature and will visibly present the gift-holder as a spiritual leader.

In my experience, the issue is not with structuralism but rather with how those people are kept in check. Again, looking at the New Testament, we see a church structure that was managed by a plurality of leaders living in accountability to each other. While this is the norm, American Christianity often strays from this template. There are Christian leaders who seemingly hold such a position of status that it can be difficult for them to be held accountable.

The Old Testament holds an example of this in the person of King David. In 1 Samuel 13:14 it was revealed that David was, "a man after God's own heart." From these humble beginnings, David’s spirituality and savvy led him to a seat upon the throne ruling over God’s people. But the very virtues that led David to the crown were distorted by power. His heart was corrupted throughout his reign—from his sexual conquest of a married woman to allowing 70,000 of his subjects die for mere arrogance.

With David, the issue was exacerbated because Kings of Israel operated in complete autonomy; sure, the Lord sent prophets to confront kings of their sins but they could easily be ignored or even killed.

When thinking of Ravi’s manipulation, I wonder if he thought of himself as a David.

Explore Ravi’s origin story or read his writings, and you see a man whose life was lived to defend the rightness of God. But underneath this spiritual façade was a predator, a man who saw his people as subjects that existed for his pleasure. I’m curious to see if this was a view Ravi long held or if it was something that revealed itself as he became a world famous Christian leader.

While there’s a certain romanticism of royalty (note the continued fascination of moderns toward the Windsors or, biblically, Israel’s continued request for God to grant them a king) it is not the ideal structure of spiritual leadership. I’d suggest that the better way is visible in the New Testament. The structure of the church supersedes the monarchy as, in the body of Christ, a plurality of leaders can call other believers into biblical submission. By design, the church ought to be a place where the indiscretions of leaders can be brought into correction.

Yet unfortunately, the rise of parachurch organizations and individual ministry creates situations with little to no accountability. From multiple firsthand accounts, Ravi was confronted by those within his organization about issues but such such efforts—even about minor issues—were completed rebuffed. I’m not suggesting then that all ministry must take place within the confines of the local church, but ministry practitioners must operate in a similar system of accountability. I’m quite skeptical of leaders who won’t submit to other Christian leaders, specifically those who refuse to participate in the local church (which was apparently Ravi’s modus operandi). The benefit of biblical community is that the Lord calls us to submission through mutual relationships so we all are all held to standards of behavior.

Obviously there are churches that have a plurality of leaders and don’t consistently maintain these standards. Yes, there are flawed churches but it doesn’t mean the biblical system is broken. Local leadership is a labor of love that takes time and effort. But just because certain churches have failed at this, we shouldn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. If you take the claims of Scripture seriously, one cannot pursue the path of Christ in isolation of the local community of believers.

From my perspective, it’s actually this skepticism of the church leadership structure that permits predators like Ravi to reign freely. Reluctance to accept local church leadership pushes us to look for different kinds of spiritual authority. While we reject leaders we know, we love to laud leaders afar. And in the world of Church Inc., there are an ever increasing amount of those leaders accessible to us, many of whom operate freely, outside the confines of any accountability. In essence, it’s the dismissal of the church leadership empowers celebrity Christian culture. When you know the flaws of your own pastors, you’re generally more enamored by the leader of whom you know little.

This isn’t a call to deconstruct Christian leaders, but to address their authenticity. Think about the revisionist history of King David. To be clear, he’s a fascinating character. If all you knew about David were his psalms, you’d suspect he was the greatest man of faith who ever lived. Yet despite the fact that the Bible lists his many sins, he’s often presented as an admirable character—someone to be emulated. We tend to teach our children more about the Goliath story than of his abuse of Bathsheba.

The modern church has afforded Davidic status to leaders that appear to be “after God’s own heart.” They are offered levels of respect and trust to the extent that they are practically autonomous. And this is what creates contexts in which abuse can reign. The tragedy of so many of these recent cases is that abusers were supposedly operating in systems of accountability and yet they were not confronted effectively until it was far too late.

And in far too many of these cases, the spiritual status of the abusers are so great that their victims are sometimes portrayed as culpable or conniving. Instead of being protected, they are silenced in the shadow of the perceived holiness of the leader. The Scriptures do not tell us that leaders should be above accountability. So we do we let it persist?

The church needs leaders and needs its leaders to be in relationships of true accountability. For too long our faith has based upon the brilliance of saints when, in realty, it should have been built upon the realization that we are merely redeemed sinners. The hero of Scripture is Christ and we are flawed participants in His story. Unless we acknowledge this, our faith is incomplete. The expectation that leaders should be held to a higher standard doesn’t eliminate the effectiveness of the gospel.

Biblical accountability ought to work. When it fails, it’s often because too many leaders long to be kings.

Only the Lonely

Noreena Hertz is a compelling thinker/writer, and in the midst of the pandemic, she published her book The Lonely Century. I’m suspecting she did most of her work on this pre-COVID, and her published paused to let her adapt her prior research to incorporate learnings from lockdown.

Among the many compelling observations she makes, I appreciate the following quote where she discusses how community (conceivably the antidote of loneliness) can actually make people more isolated.

“It is important not to overly romanticize community. By definition communities are exclusive and as such can be both excessively insular and antagonistic toward outsiders. Often they don’t permit difference or nonconformity, whether we’re talking different interests, nontraditional family structures, or alternative beliefs or lifestyles . . . those who don’t adhere to the community’s norms can find that excommunication can be both brutal and brutally swift.”

It was tough to read this and not think of application to the church.

A popular talking point of many of my minister friends is whether people will return to the pews after the pandemic. While I believe they will, the more important question is this: are churches willing to make space for those who don’t quite fit in?

If a spiritual revival is to emerge from this pandemic, it will come from a search for authentic community. While the church has historically offered this, most recently, many American congregations have opted for isolation rather than inclusion.

You don’t need to lose your soul to open up your arms.

The Church of WallStreetBets: Kingdom Lessons for Post-COVID Ministry

In recent days I’ve been consuming a daily diet of the GameStop stock news. While it seems that it emerged overnight, it’s actually a movement that has been building for awhile. As many have observed, COVID has been a cultural accelerant and, in this case, humanity finally caught up with technology. The fluidity of the this news story shouldn’t prevent us from pausing and pursuing learnings. Because of my educational background and vocation, I’d like to view all this through the lens of churches and non-profits. Let’s begin with how we got here.

THE RISE OF THE AGGREGATOR
Have you ever thought about how you consume the world wide web? The internet offers us unlimited information so it’s wise to have tools by which to organize online interactions. In the early years of the web, I discovered the value of aggregators; with aggregators, you could sample a buffet of diverse web content in a singular location. In the beginning, I had a well-curated RSS Reader Feed until Google determine it was a technology destined to die. I then moved to using Twitter to organize content, but revised algorithms decided I should spend more time exploring what Beyoncé was doing with her life so I had to move on to something new.

I thought I had found everything I was wanted when I discovered Digg: a link aggregator launched in 2004. Instead of scouring the web for the latest news, user-submitted links were available as fast as media outlets could produce content. Yet after a myriad of miscues intended to increase profit, there was a mass-exodus from Digg, and that’s what led the masses toward Reddit. Digg and Reddit were contemporaries, started within months of each other, but well Digg “sold out,” Reddit won the war. At first, I disliked Reddit; the user-interface was sloppy and it wasn’t a pure aggregator. But as more people switched over to the platform, Reddit became more user-friendly and helpful. The key to Redditing is to cultivate personal topics of interest through their system of subreddits (microsites dedicated to specific subjects). I’ve been using the Reddit for nearly a decade now and I visit multiple times daily.

My Reddit subscriptions are both playful (sports) and professional (economics). Due to my work in the the ledning sector, I subscribe to quite a few subreddits featuring finance. One I’ve followed for a few years is r/WallStreetBets. In its early years, the microsite focused on speculative trading. The subreddit seemingly blew up when the Robinhood app became popular. This platform brought options trading into the hands of the novice investor and WallStreetBets essentially morphed into a place where users bragged about their Robinhood losses.

THE ROAD TO REVOLT
While both WallStreetBets and Robinhood have been around for years, there’s been a recent surge in public interest because of GameStop stock. For the unaware, a brief primer: GameStop is a franchise of brick-and-mortar stores that sell video game products. The WallStreetBets community mobilized thousands of individual investors to buy the company’s stock to the detriment of hedge funds who had overleveraged options positions on GameStop. More simply, numerous hedge funds were betting that the company would fail, the WallStreetBets community took the opposite position. This pushed the stock price up and forced hedge funds to take large losses. In the days since, GameStop stock has been volatile but continues to achieve record highs. Investment experts are flummoxed at how a digital community of individuals was able to upset established Wall Street certainties. For more detail about this, you can look here, here, and here.

Note: personally, I’ve been watching it all as a spectator. It means little to me as my financial strategy leans toward long-term plays and diversity; I don’t actively trade nor do mess with options.

Despite all the media interest, I’m convinced that it’s nothing more than zeitgeist. I suspect hedge funds will learn their lesson and be careful not to commit the same mistakes . . . at least for a little while. But while observing this cultural phenomenon, I just can’t help to see its connectedness to an issue with which many in my network have been wrestling. Currently, the most popular piece of speculation among churches and non-profits is the new normal for a post-COVID world. I haven’t contributed much to this conversation thus far as I’m not sure there’s much we know at this time. But since 2021 seems to be the year we transition toward this new normal, the GameStop story might provide a glimpse of the future.

LEARNING FROM THE SUBREDDIT
While I’ve heard pundits suggest that WallStreetBets is nothing more than a group of Millennials and GenZ’ers inciting chaos, I believe this underestimates the power of the community. In many ways, WallStreetBets reminds me of an online church.

- The congregation maintains basic beliefs that units the community.
- Members check in daily to both consume and create content.
- The community emphasizes resource allocation (stewardship) toward a common goal.
- Tens of thousands claim adherence to the cause (and this number is far than the “preacher’s count” of more than seven million subscribers to the subreddit).

By viewing this secular movement through an ecclesiological framework, I’m not suggesting that their intentions are spiritual. My observation is that one must be impressed at the ability of this online community to spur discernible action. Consider this: even though the January 6th storming of the capitol has garnered far more attention, the WallStreetBets play on GameStop involved more people, more money, and no violence. It’s why I believe leaders of faith communities should pay attention. Understanding this digital phenomenon may help us better understand how the church must operate in the post-COVID world. Key points:

1. The development of robust community online
Up until last year, there were passionate arguments suggesting that online church was fake community. The pandemic forced a pivot here, when even the most ardent critics softened their stance last spring when strategizing how to keep their communities together digitally. While some voices are again suggesting that the end of COVID should be the death of online church, this perspective is far too binary. The pandemic accelerated the trend of online becoming an extension of the real world. Recall that, up until the first quarter of 2020, numerous parents and educators made pleas to curtail the screen time of young people. Just a year later, the screen has proved itself vital, providing the only community that some kids have in a wilderness of isolation.

Normally, when movements begin online, they see their greatest effectiveness when they transition to the real world. Zeynep Tufecki provides valuable research here in her book Twitter and Tear Gas. Tufecki demonstrates that while recent revolutionary movements now start digitally, and continue to grow by using social media for organization, there’s a point when the movement moves from online to in person (the recent anti-Putin in Russia is an example of this). But WallStreetBets has remained entirely virtual. Solely through digital connectivity, they made an impact on the market to the tune of billions of dollars. I’m not suggesting this is a mark of communal health, but it is without a doubt validation that people can create potent communal relationships completely online and ministry practitioners should acknowledge it.

2. The stewardship of personal resources for communal goals
This is what I find most compelling about the GameStop story: the movement of millions of dollars into the market are the result of simple encouragement from within the subreddit. Churches and non-profits are forced to focus on fundraising (gifts and offerings) to fuel kingdom initiatives both domestically and internationally. The pandemic has provided a challenge to ministries as their supporters have been physically separated from their community. While some churches have been able to manage, quite a few churches have struggled with reduced giving levels.

Simultaneously, WallStreetBets motivated thousands of investors to participate in a GoFundMe without a singular entry point. To be sure, these funds are investment capital so it’s not identical to charitable giving. But the digital encouragement has extended beyond individual returns. In fact, quite a few Redditors who made money in GameStop immediately donated part of their stock earnings to the less fortunate. Yes, there’s a movement within the WallStreetBets movement to emphasize philanthropy. It would be easy to label the actions of WallStreetBets as organized greed, but it seems that some are more motivated by the idea of justice itself. Regardless, it’s impressive that the microsite moved individuals to allocate their personal financial resources toward a communal goal.

3. The empowerment of content creators
Churches have been challenged during the pandemic to create content. While describing the production of the weekend worship experience as “content creation” might seem sketchy (and theologically unfulfilling), many churches have started taking cues from the social media world. Ministries of all shapes and sizes started to invest in technology in order to broadcast services to retain communal connectivity. Yet the focus here has generally been on content creation not content cultivation. One of the strengths of WallStreetBets has been that there’s no singular voice of this movement. While Keith Gill is credited as the instigator of the GameStop strategy, he is merely one of many evangelists. The subreddit community is, well, creating liturgy on the fly.

Admittedly, much of the WallStreetBets content is sophomoric humor. But even in jest, posts are intended to motivate and transform. Comedy can definitely serves a role in cultivating community dynamic. With WallStreetBets, most of the humor is been self-depreciating. Users project pride in their movement, but even when its braggadocios, it’s still framed in the context of an outmatched underdog. As Christian communities continue their digital strategy post-pandemic, the successful ones will create platforms for laypeople to contribute as much as clergy do.

4. The digital community beyond singular platforms
When dissecting the GameStop incident, there are conflicts evident, but they aren’t as much within the community, but with the platforms used to support the movement. For example, Robinhood is a fintech company branded as an app to provide hedge fund power to individual investors. In recent days, they decided to briefly limit trading on GameStop and other meme stocks. By doing so, they increased speculation that the company was actually in cahoots with the hedge funds—slowing trading to help them avoid taking on even more losses. While this is still being investigated and perhaps litigated (likely the SEC will get involved), it did not deter the WallStreetBets community. The community responded by endorsing a slew of competitor investment platforms while simultaneously inundating app stores with negative reviews of Robinhood .

There are some who suggest that individual social media platforms are inseparable from the dynamic online community themselves: that if you merely ban users from Facebook/Twitter/Instagram, the movement will simply disintegrate. Yet if a movement is truly a movement, no singular platform will be able to contain it. If the community is robust, the platform remains a tool of the network. If the community is robust, people will find ways to connect despite platform limitations.

FOR FURTHER CONSIDERATION
While I see parallels in WallStreetBets and post-COVID digital models, I observe a few flaws in the movement that should be considered.

1. Lack of transparency
The vast majority of Redditors prefer to keep their identity hidden. As a result, you’re not sure who is actually offering you investment advice: it could be someone with a Masters in Economics but it could just as easily be a hedge fund’s bot. This has long been an issue with digital community: anonymity prevents accountability.

Digital anonymity can be helpful for someone in the midst of spiritual crisis—someone seeking counsel in secret for fear of their sin being exposed. But in areas of leadership and authority, it’s important to know who’s speaking to ensure that their words are being lived out—that their lifestyle is bearing fruit. It would take another article to explain the following observation theologically, but I hold that church online can be biblical provided it offers personal accountability. As churches and non-profits attempt to cultivate digital communities, they must consider the point at which users should be asked to identify themselves.

2. Decentralization and lack of direction
Building on the issue of transparency, we highlight the issue of leadership. Again, one of the reasons the GameStop short squeeze is so fascinating is that the movement behind it had no clearly delineated leader. Even though WallStreetBets has a plurality of subreddit moderators, these individuals are generally only tasked to enforce site-wide decorum policies. As such, leadership is dispersed among a myriad of people and, as noted above, their identity is often hidden.

At first glance, this lack of leadership appears that it could coincide with Christian teaching. A key theological concept within Protestantism (and modern evangelicalism) is derived from the epistle of First Peter. The doctrine of the priesthood of all believers is a response to the hierarchical, priestly structure of the Roman Catholic system where individuals needed an intercessor. While this revised tenet of priesthood was meant to communicate the accessibility of God to the individual, it was never intended to be the driving force of ecclesiological structure. There’s an adage that state, “when everyone’s in charge, no one’s in charge.” While decentralization can fuel short-term growth, it usually leads to chaos. Christian digital communities need leadership.

3. Pursuing Longevity 
After considering transparency and leadership, we then need to ask, “will it last?” That’s what I’ve been wondering about WallStreetBets: will it retain viability? When the hedge funds start limiting their exposure on options, will the community have a new rallying cry that continues the movement? Perhaps the subreddit will be able to articulate a revised mission that keeps it moving forward but issue-spawned movements struggle to survive in the long term. Without this direction, it might split into smaller factions—new subreddits that emphasize more finite interests.

For a subreddit, long term viability is no big deal. For churches and non-profits trying to establish a digital extension of their work, it’s a critical issue. Digital community isn’t a fad but continues to be treated as such. I’m guessing, as people return to church buildings, many congregations will lose interest in maintaining their online communities and slowly withdraw their investment in these areas. This would be a mistake. The long-term survival of churches and non-profits will involve a digital strategy intertwined with an in-person strategy.

4. From digital to physical again
The point of this longwinded musing is my belief that WallStreetBets reveals the new power of digital community. While there are those who believe the future is exclusively digital, lessons learned during the pandemic reveals that the analog still has its place. In fact, I’d say social distancing has revealed how compelling it is to still meet in person. Live experiences are never curated as well as digital ones. Without the ability to reshoot or edit, there’s drama in live content. I suspect that in the months ahead, people will be so desperate to experience this drama that sporting events and concerts and yes, worship gatherings, will become must-attend opportunities.

A pre-COVID staple among many subreddits were regularly scheduled meet-ups. People would step out of the shadows to build relationships that sacrificed anonymity. Taking the digital relationship to the real world essentially made it even more real. In fact, if WallStreetBets continues to exist as a movement, it will likely feature post-pandemic, in-person meetings as an emphasis of its viability. Similarly, just because churches and non-profits are creating new spaces for digital interactions, the best ones will serve as launching pads for in-person experiences.

Reflecting on these observations, you might think the take-away is for churches and non-profits to intertwine the physical and digital realms (the encapsulation of the post-pandemic buzzword phygital).

More than this, however, ministries that thrive need to refocus their attention on the power of Christian community. If a ragtag group of internet investors can make such a large impact in a short amount of time, how much more could communities of faith mobilize believers to impact the world for Christ?

The Work of Winter

I just wrapped up reading Work by James Suzman. As a self-proclaimed workaholic, I’ve studied the topic theologically but haven’t explored many secular takes on the subject. It’s not the most compelling read; I liken it to an attempt to capitalize on Yuval Noah Hararri’s Sapiens, but there are some thoughtful observations.

One that spoke of the bleak midwinter felt most relevant to me. Suzman noted that the way the ancients dealt with the season differed from how we moderns typically do so today.

"During the depths of winter, the pace of life and work will have fallen into step with the more glacial tempo of the season. Besides occasional hunting, or expeditions to refresh stocks of firewood, many hours would have been spent huddled close to the fire. Busy minds would entertain and be distracted by stories, ceremonies, songs, and shamanic journeys. Agile fingers would have found purpose in developing and mastering new skills."

On the heels of the pandemic, I’ve been doing less creating outside of my day-job, I just don’t feel as productive. Every once in awhile I need reminders to cut myself some slack and live in the season.

I spent the whole weekend in front of the fire.

Used of God

Yesterday one of my mentors passed away.

But he wasn’t actually my mentor.

My wife and I were truly blessed to get to know Sam and Gwen Stone. Through Kelly’s work at Standard Publishing and my job at Cincinnati Christian University, our paths continually crossed with the couple. They had been married for over fifty years, raised an amazing family, and devoted their entire lives to the kingdom of God. They were some of the most humble representatives of Christ I’ve ever met.

I visited with the two of them the day before Gwen passed away. Convinced that Sam would struggle in her absence, I wanted an excuse to spend time with him. I devised a subtle plan to stay connected.

One day I took Sam out to lunch and made a simple request.

“Sam, I could really benefit from your wisdom. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in mentoring me.”

His response was simple.

“No thank you.”

I was taken aback because it seemed like he was enjoying our time together. So after the meal, as I dropped him off at Mason Christian Village, I innocuously asked, “Do you think you’d want to grab lunch again in a few weeks so we can talk more about life?”

“That would be great,” he said.

That’s how I tricked Sam into secretly mentoring me.

In our time together, I soaked up his wit and wisdom. After each of our lunches, I’d take notes about our conversations. After hearing of his passing, inspired by his wordsmithing, I felt compelled to share just a small part of his story.

Sam grew up in urban Albuquerque, New Mexico. His father convinced him to enroll in Bible college for at least one year, so he went to Missouri to attend Ozark Bible College.

As a freshman, he started preaching at a small country church in Summersville, Missouri; it was a four-hour drive from campus. It was a such a remote town, only three families had indoor plumbing. He told me, “that little church took a chance on me. It was the best place for me to start preaching. I didn’t know much, but they were so kind and encouraging to a young preacher. They always sent food home with me.” When his car wouldn’t run, he’d hitchhike across the state so he could preach on the weekends.

He made $17 a week.

The week after graduation he married Gwen. Edwin Hayden, a professor at Ozark, was a gifted writer. He left campus to become editor of The Christian Standard magazine, part of Standard Publishing Company in Cincinnati. When the company was seeking someone to edit the teen curriculum, Edwin recommended Sam. With Standard Publishing, like the small country church, he admitted, “they took a chance on me.”

The couple moved to Cincinnati. On the weekends, Sam and Gwen would drive out to Monterey, Ohio (only a 50-mile drive) and preached at the Church of Christ there. I loved this aspect of their story because it intersected with our own: I once preached at that same church while a college student, and Kelly ended up as editor of the same teen magazine Sam edited when she first worked at Standard.

At this point in life, Sam was grateful to be have completed his education, but realized he still needed to learn more. He resigned from both jobs, took a full-time ministry job in Richmond, Indiana and enrolled in graduate school at the Cincinnati Bible Seminary. While taking classes, he became acquainted with a professor named Lewis Foster (my mom was Lewis’ assistant in the late 1960s). Lewis devoted significant time to preaching at Western Hills Christian Church but the Seminary wanted him to increase his teaching load. He encouraged the church to hire an associate minister, and Sam was the natural choice. He and Gwen moved back to Cincinnati to live on the westside.

According to Sam, preaching at Western Hills was the most intimidating venue he’d ever experienced. There were nine Seminary faculty in the congregation, including R.C. Foster, the most revered professor at the school. Sam knew he was doing a good job when he could make RC laugh. They stayed there nine years.

Gwen and Sam felt called to return to Missouri so he could preach at a church in Columbia. At the same time, he was an adjunct professor at the Bible College in Moberly. Sam said, “Gwen and I were convinced that this would be the place where we spent the rest of their lives.” But, once again, Cincinnati came calling. When the Seminary was searching for a dean for the graduate school, multiple faculty recommended Sam for the job.

This surprised him. Sam never viewed himself as an academic, despite the fact that he continually pursued education opportunities everywhere he went. Gwen and Sam (again) returned to Cincinnati. Still, he embraced the call and helped usher the graduate school into a new era. After years as dean, Sam was asked to be editor of The Christian Standard, a position he held for 25 years. It was in this role where I first became familiar with Sam. Every week, as I half listened to the Sunday morning sermon, I’d leaf through the magazine, reading what Sam wrote in his weekly editorial.

In April 2016, I sat in on the last lecture Sam Stone would deliver at Cincinnati Bible Seminary. I had invited Sam to lecture students about how they should set up their lives and careers to have fruitful ministries. Even though he had written thousands of words and multiple books of the topic, Sam called me numerous times to make sure he nailed down the content. As he taught, I snapped the picture below. It’s a night I’ll never forget.

That evening he recited to students the lyrics of an old hymn. It was called, They All Were Used of God. The hymn focused on biblical characters who used humble items to do extraordinary things for the kingdom.

“Shamgar had an ox-goad, David had a sling.
Dorcas had a needle, Rahab had a string.
Samson had a jawbone, Moses had a rod.
Mary had some ointment, but they all were used of God.”

I’m grateful that Sam Stone took a chance on me. Without a doubt, he was used of God.

Doctorates, Virtual Schooling, and Old Tattoos: Why Learning Is More Important Than Letters

It seems like everyone has a hot take about everything during the pandemic. Personally, I've kept a low profile despite the many controversies of recent months. It's not because I don't have thoughts but rather that I'm unconvinced anyone (let alone me) can communicate through the complexity to actually change perspectives. Still, something happened recently that has moved me to comment.

And since it happened a few weeks ago, it might not even be a hot take anymore.

You likely heard of the political pundit who used an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal to criticize the future first lady. Specifically, he attacked her using the title of "doctor" to describe herself because she has an education degree and doesn't practice medicine. It was a petty, weak take that incited rolling backlash, specifically around the topics of sexism and classism. 

In this reflection, I don't examine the sexism charge even though it is a legitimate gripe. In the midst of questioning the doctor’s legitimacy, the author used the word "kiddo" to describe the female professor. Even if the chauvinism was unintentional, the article reads like a platform of the patriarchy. Would the author have written the same words and used the same pejorative about a man? I highly doubt it. As a result, people on both ends of political spectrum have condemned the article because of its sexism.

 
DOCTORAL GATEKEEPING
Yet if you look closely, this controversy transcends sexism and more interesting raises the issue of classism. The broader issue I’m interest in is, who may rightly claim the title of doctor? Perhaps the best synopsis of this issue comes from the comedy Brooklyn 99. This question normally mattered very little in my life even though the controversy hits close to home, having earned a theological doctorate in my thirties. Typically, I never use the title "doctor" to describe myself unless it's for a gag. For example, a couple of years ago I was in the midst of a check-up and my (Harvard educated) physician offered a solution to what was ailing me at the time. Upon hearing his advice I deadpan remarked, "actually, as a doctor myself, my studies concluded that I should just pray harder." He wasn't amused, prescribed amoxicillin, and my cold was cured. 

The WSJ article unified a legion of non-health care doctors, something I found ironic since the greatest levels of snobbery I've witnessed as a result of credentialing have occurred AMONG academics themselves. The educational hierarchy is robust, especially among the social sciences. It pays special attention to pedigree, starting with your degree-granting institution and continuing down to your field of study.

I was ignorant of this earlier in my education; to me, a college was a college was a college. But the more degrees I pursued, the more evident it became that I would never have high standing in the system. My doctorate was a practically-based degree (like Jill Biden's EdD) and not research-based one (a PhD). This is important to clarify as I recall for a conversation from a few years ago with some professors. I made an observation about some lofty subject based on sources that I read. Not only did an academic sneer at my “ignorant” comment, but responded that such an opinion was "outside of my area of expertise;" In this circle, my thought was rejected because my doctorate wasn't a PhD. Apparently I was unqualified to comment intelligently on the issue because the letters after my name were insufficient.

COVID CATECHISM
My sharing this incident isn't mere self-therapy. I've been thinking a lot about education lately, especially during the pandemic, as I've watched my teenager struggle in school.

To be clear, my daughter is a sharp kid. She's the only child of intelligent parents (well, at least her mother) so she has certain advantages that set her up for success. I've fully accepted the fact that she'll be more brilliant than I ever will be. She's always performed well academically . . . until COVID. Her college-prep magnet high school has been completely online since March and, in these past two semesters, her grades have declined. Objectively, her struggles aren't due to lack of effort or of comprehension. After scouring through her work and habits, it's evident that the real issue is the inability of her teachers to transition to teaching on a digital platform.

Our kid's school prides itself for being an academic powerhouse so faculty are continually focused on maintaining the highest standards possible. In their view, this is best reflected through harsh grading. Even though 50-minute lectures don't translate well to Zoom and assignments submitted through inferior LMS's (learning management systems) get lost, the online rubric hasn't changed from the in-person one. In the end, the inability for certain educators to adjust to online learning has harmed the educational process.

 One example: one of my daughter's strongest subjects (a foreign language) is taught by a teacher that has openly admitted his greatest concern is that kids would cheat with untethered access to the internet. As a result, the instructor designed tests around the translation of texts. The teacher’s request to “provide the most accurate translation” is highly subjective, as an linguist will attest. Even though my daughter received national recognition in this language, she's struggling to get a grade that reflects her mastery. And there's absolutely no recourse to move this needle as the teacher's ultimate classroom goal has become the prevention of fraud.

This isn't an isolated example as I've heard similar stories from other parents. While these teachers aren't deliberately misleading their students, they're most definitely messing with their minds.

 While this has created a tense environment in our household, I can't even imagine how challenging it is for those parenting younger children. And what about households with multiple kids learning online in different schools? How do you engage a teacher to let them know their content simply isn't landing? How can you encourage your child to persevere when grades are nonsensical? And this doesn’t even consider low-income households with students forced to grapple with defective hardware and slow internet speeds.

The easiest response would seem to call a school counselor or principal and report the injustices but, from my observation, they're swamped from helicopter parents advocating for their own kids. And while this is just another negative byproduct of the pandemic, it's shedding light on a societal shift we all must acknowledge.

We're teaching our daughter to view her education differently: we're constantly telling her that grades really don't matter.

Grades are as trivial as test scores and are far more subjective than we ever care to admit. A lack of high marks may limit acceptance to an elite college, but if the system is unable to appropriately measure outcomes, does it really matter?

REBEL WITHOUT A CLUE
Admittedly, this is a contrarian position but it runs in my nature. I've been that way since my youth. Another story to illustrate this thinking:

In the spring of 1995 when I was wrapping up my freshman year of college. A guy in an adjacent dorm room got a tattoo. I was impressed by the edginess of this decision. In those days, no one had tattoos except for sailors and bikers. When he asked me to come along for his second one, not only did I go, but I was convinced to get ink myself—a bit of religious iconography on my ankle.

For me, it was the ideal opportunity to display my rejection of social norms. When my mother first saw the tattoo, she was so incredulous that she ran a washcloth under the sink and attempted to scrub it off my skin. The tattoo was essentially a symbol of my uniqueness—a fringe position where I was one-of-a-kind.

Yet when I returned to campus that fall, it seemed like everyone had a tattoo. What I thought would be visual attestation of my belonging to the cool class was instantly devalued.

What was once extraordinary had quickly become commonplace.

Likewise, the educational system is no longer capable of distinguishing average from exceptional. Good grades were once the hallmark of brilliance. But the digital era has all but obliterated this model. Grade inflation sheds a bright light on the subjectivity of grading. Parents now frequently advocate to their children’s teachers, pressuring educators to switch grades; it reminds of Clueless where Cher suggests that her report card is merely "the jumping off point to start negotiations.”

A closely related issue is the rise of high-priced tutoring, providing children of wealthy families an obvious educational advantage. While I won’t detail how this impacts grades, the second season of Michael Lewis' podcast does a good job of explaining this.

The easiest way for a student to transcend the limitations of grade inflation was to amass more diplomas. Immediately after my undergraduate degree, I started in a master’s program. Eventually, as more and more people were earning their master’s I decided that doing doctoral work would provide even more value, separating me from my peers. But in the years since I became a "fake doctor" I've witnessed an explosion on people continuing toward a terminal degree. There's been a 70% increase in non-medical doctorates in the last three decades and this trend looks ready to continue. Like my tattoo, my doctorate means little in today's world. Diplomas are no longer an automatic pass to class ascendency.

Generations of students were taught that the path of education was the road to success. Instead, it's become an industry that's more akin to a Ponzi scheme.

IT DOESN'T MATTER
This isn't your standard "higher education is dead" take. Years later, I don’t believe my doctoral studies were a waste of time or money.

In fact, just last week I had a long conversation with someone deciding whether or not to pursue a PhD. My advice to them was "go for it, provided you have a good idea of where you're going." While ROI (return on investment) is a business term, it must now be applied to academic pursuits. Credentialing is losing its value in the modern world (especially in the social sciences), but the study process is as valuable as ever. Every good degree program ought to provide the student with the opportunity to transform how they think. Through the discipline of directed study, one can create learning habits essential in the emerging economy.

The ability to self-educate will be the currency of the coming age.

That's why I don't concern myself with the controversy of who gets to be called a doctor. It's also why I encourage my daughter not to worry about her GPA. If you can learn how to learn, you will have the ability to create new opportunities for yourself.

But what about us adults meandering through a changing world? For some of us who never learned how to learn, this will be quite challenge. Society is still in the midst of a massive shift: while we spent thousands of years in an analog world, we’re in the midst of a digital world. Before you lament that “things were never this crazy before,” take the time to acknowledge that despite living in a digital era, the majority of our systems are grounded in analog. Of course it’s a wild time to be alive.

If you were born before the 1970's, you were reared in the rigidity of the analog world. This context was both hierarchical and limited. Yes, there were opportunities, but you had to climb the right ladder (and many women and minorities couldn’t even access the first rung. It was a rigged system but, if you could get in, it had a clear pathway.

If you were born after the 1980's, you came of age in the digital world. You haven't known life without the internet. The lenses through which you view society expose you to limitless possibilities. Interestingly enough, the diversity choices can actually stifle decision making, obscuring the path to success.

As a Generation X'er, my journey has meandered through both the analog and digital era. I didn't have a computer when I started college; by the time I graduated, I had access to the world wide web. While Gen X’ers are often labeled the forgotten generation, perhaps it's because we were neither analog or digital natives. And in the end, while X’ers haven’t obtained the wealth of the boomer generation or the recognition of diversity of Milennials or Generation Z, we learned how to survive. The ability to navigate between the two worlds is a primordial skillset for the emerging world.

It's not about who gets to be called doctor and it definitely has nothing to do with your GPA. Those arguments are as relevant as a tired tattoo. In the future, opportunities for distinction will come with originality and adaptability.



_____________
Photo by Christin Hume on Unsplash

A Brief History of Race in Cincinnati

Cincinnati has been my home my entire life. I’ve viewed it from every conceivable angle. This city is part of my DNA.

I love it. I travel extensively in my work and I still believe that Cincinnati is one of the most underrated cities in the United States. Like many, my favorite part of returning home from the airport is that turn on Interstate 75 at the cut-in-the-hill where the skyline is sprawled out before us. It looks like the city was painted on a canvas.

But Cincinnati isn’t perfect. Ours is like any city: we have moments of past glory, but parts of our story are thoroughly embarrassing. We have skeletons in our closet. In reality, it’s more like graveyards.

Often civic supporters omit scandalous tales in a posture of protection—worried that a distressing narrative undermines their city’s greatness. But as a student (and teacher) of urbanism, I hold that cities are both humanity’s best and worst creation. I take a redemptive view, hopeful that the paradoxical nature of cities motivates us to make them better.

As a hack Cincinnati historian, I’ve amassed a significant collection of information about my hometown. One of the topics I’ve studied is race relations in our city. As a native son, I realized at a young age that interactions between black and white citizens here have always felt uneasy. Over a decade ago, I spent a week in the downtown public library researching the subject or racial relations in Cincinnati.

Now seems like the ideal time to get this info out there. More than ever, we must wrestle with our city’s failings.

Originally, this content was developed for a lecture in a college-level course on cities; I also utilized it in a sermon series I preached on racial issues. While this reflects academic-level research, the following info is presented with simplicity. Since it was meant to be communicated verbally, I would often fill in the gaps with stories off-the-cuff. Considering this, and that I edited it in a couple of hours, means this isn’t fully developed; I might skip parts of the history you believe are more important or linger on stories you think are off-topic.

I ask for grace in advance. I just felt compelled to get this notes out on the internet to help people consider our times.

If you’re interested, there are definitely other resources where you can begin a deeper dive on the topic. If you can get your hands on it, I highly suggest Henry Louis Taylor’s book Race and the City as it was most helpful in my research. Zane Miller is another Cincinnati historian that grapples with some of this content.

CITY ON A RIVER
I love to sit by the Ohio River. It’s not the most majestic waterway in America, but it’s peaceful. Like many cities, Cincinnati exists because of that river. In the early years after the Revolutionary War, the United States government was looking for a viable place to build a military outpost and the basin opposite the Licking River was deemed the ideal location.

From this place, the growth of Cincinnati was exponential. It became one of our nation’s largest cities by the start of the Civil War. It’s population growth was intertwined with our city’s economic growth. And Cincinnati’s financial success was linked to the Ohio River. The river provided unlimited commerce opportunities: goods could be shipped down to the Mississippi River, opening not only American markets but even international trade opportunities.

But the Ohio River also separated a slave state and a free state and this improved Cincinnati’s financial position. Farming in Kentucky benefited greatly from slave labor. Crops harvested by the hands of slaves could be shipped up to Cincinnati and sent downriver on a steamboat, making quite a few Cincinnati residents wealthy.

It’s important to admit, then, that the greatness of Cincinnati was built on the backs of slaves.

For the life of me, I cannot remember when I first learned this. I don’t believe I was fully taught it in school. As a young boy, when we studied local history in class, I felt a sense of pride that Ohio rejected slavery. But it wasn’t until I was an adult that I discovered the reality of slavery’s influence on the prosperity of my city. One historian suggested that, “Cincinnati was a Southern city on free soil.”

Yet there was also hope for freedom along the Ohio River. As many of us know, there were abolitionists who worked hard to liberate southern slaves. Some declared that declared, “if you make it to Cincinnati, you’ll be free.” Nearly forty percent of all runaway slaves crossed the Ohio River to gain their freedom and there were abolitionists in our city like Levi Coffin who worked to liberate them.

THE FIRST RACE RIOTS
Before the Civil War, many of our city’s black residents lived along side with whites. By 1828, approximately 4,000 blacks lived in Cincinnati (accounting for ten percent of the city’s population. In Cincinnati’s lower basin, there were two predominately black communities.

The first was known as Bucktown. It was located on the eastern side of downtown between 5th and 7th Streets and Broadway (near where the Proctor and Gamble building exists today). It wasn’t exclusively for blacks, but was the landing place for some of the city’s poorest residents. The other community was known as Little Africa, located along the river where the Banks sits today. To be clear, neither location was desirable; it was some of the worst real estate in city, prone to both flooding and the pollution of nearby factories.

Yet even though the city’s blacks had their place in the city, their existence was tenuous at best. We can trace this back to the Cincinnati’s second decade. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, laws were imposed upon African Americans in our state. In 1804 (and then again in 1807), Ohio passed “black laws.” In this legislation, blacks were not only forced to prove they were not slaves, they were required to provide a $500 bond just to live in the state (adjusted for inflation, this is the equivalent of $10,000 today). These laws dissuaded some blacks from settling in the city. 

In following decades there were race riots in the city. These differed massively from how many perceive race riots today. In these instances, whites went into Bucktown and Little Africa to terrorize black residents.

Even though the black laws from 1807 were on the books, they weren’t being actively enforced. Political leaders demand that all black residents pay their $500 bond within thirty days. White Cincinnatians ransack Bucktown, starting fires and escalating violence. In response, half of the city’s black population flees. Some move to Canada while others move to nearby small towns like Ripley, Ohio.

After a few years of peace, there was another escalation in 1836. Whites in the city used a street fight between a black man and a white man as an excuse to again riot in their neighborhoods. Notably, rioters took their anger out on James G. Birney, the white editor of an abolitionist newspaper. He relocated to New Richmond, Ohio to continue his cause.

Just five years later, Cincinnati was in the midst of a challenging economic time. As many workers were unemployed, some believed that blacks were stealing white jobs. The Cincinnati Enquirer played on this paranoia and used the pages of its paper to advocate for violence against African Americans. In 1841, a new slate of politicians advocated for active enforcing of the $500 bond, empowering whites to once again riot in Little Africa and Bucktown. A sidenote: John Mercer Langston, one of the first black people elected to U.S. Congress, lived through this riot as a child.

Before the Civil War, even if you were a free black living in Cincinnati, you lived in constant fear. The passing of the Fugitive Slave Act in 1850 ensured that runaway slaves in the North must be returned to their masters; it essentially legally compelled white residents to report runaway slaves. This law, combined with the city’s proximity to a slave state, made it popular for freed blacks to be kidnapped, transported South, and forced into slavery.

CRITIQUING SLAVERY
As a resident of the Walnut Hills neighborhood in Cincinnati, I was fascinated to hear that my community was the first suburb in Cincinnati with an African American community. Understanding why this neighborhood became diversified requires us to examine a critically important but overlooked moment in our city’s history. 

Lane Seminary was founded in 1829 in Walnut Hills by Presbyterians in order to train their clergy. They invested considerable funds in this seminary to prepare for our country’s westward expansion. In that era, Roman Catholicism was on the rise and, as much as blacks were marginalized, there was also a nativist suspicion toward Catholic immigrants. To prevent Catholicism from becoming normalized, Protestants were dedicated to the establishing of more churches and this required more trained clergy. This goal was so important that Lyman Beecher, at that time the most famous preacher in the United States, relocated from Boston in 1832 to serve as Lane Seminary’s president.

Just one year later, a new student arrived whose presence would loom even larger than Beecher. Theodore Dwight Weld, a white ministry student, came from Connecticut. He was a convert of famous evangelist Charles Finney, who was a staunch opponent of Beecher. Weld was a popular student and was elected the student body president. During the cholera epidemic of the 1830’s, he led students in caring for sick. But most importantly, Weld sympathized with the abolitionist platform.

In early 1834, Beecher was out east raising funds for the seminary. While he was gone, Weld convinced his classmates to host a series of debates concerning the abolition of slavery. While this doesn’t seem significant today, it was actually the first major public discussion in the United States concerning the topic of slavery. The debates took place over 18 nights, featuring mostly anti-slavery advocates. The most impactful speech was delivered by James Thome, the son of a slaveholder in Kentucky. His description of the brutality of the system convinced many listeners that the institution of slavery was immoral.

News of the debates spread around the city and major donors became angry. They had invested in the seminary in order to deter Catholicism; this abolitionist platform could potentially jeopardize key business interests connected to the slave industry. Donors pressured Beecher to stop the debates. Beecher himself was against slavery but his conviction that Catholicism was the greater evil led him to confront Weld and the abolitionists. Weld and his troop persevered, pushing administrators to admit black students. Ultimately, Beecher reprimanded him so he and forty students left to form what eventually became Oberlin College. Lane Seminary continued on nearly a century, but struggled to remain viable. It was closed in 1932.

This decline of Lane Seminary is significant to the story of blacks in Cincinnati. As administrators attempted to manage debts, they sold off seminary land. While blacks were forbidden to own property in much of Cincinnati, there was no prohibition on the property the seminary owned. A group of whites bought properties from the seminary and then immediately sold them to black citizens. This is what enabled Walnut Hills to become home of the first middle class African American Community in the city. The area between Taft and MLK near Gilbert Avenue was developed with shops and restaurants. In 1872, Frederick Douglas School was started in this area exclusively for black children. Its level of education was of such high quality that it spent years striving to exist outside of the Cincinnati Public School system; there was a fear that excellence would wane if whites were responsible for educating black students.

A BOOK FORGED IN PAIN
Even though this doesn’t cleanly fit into the Cincinnati story of race, I must at least briefly mention the Harriet Beecher Stowe. Tradition says that when Abraham Lincoln met Stowe in person he said, “so you're the little woman who wrote the book that made this great war.”

Stowe moved to Cincinnati with her father when he became president of Lane Seminary. Here she fell in love with and married Calvin, a professor at the school. She was already a skilled writer and used her time in the city to develop her craft. Stowe and her sisters traveled extensively in the region, specifically across the river in northern Kentucky. It was here that she was exposed to the realities of the commerce of slavery and she began to take notes of her observations. Through the Lane debates and interactions with abolitionists, Stowe developed a hatred of the institution of slavery.

Her son died in Cincinnati during the cholera outbreak of 1848. Needing a change of scenery, she left Cincinnati in 1850, moving to Maine. Stowe’s sister convinced her to write a book of her reflections and she published it in 1852. By 1854, her book had been translated into 60 different languages, with hundreds of thousands of volumes sold. It changed the country’s mindset on slavery. While she didn’t publish the book while she lived in Cincinnati, the area most certainly provided the context for Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

AN ELUSIVE FREEDOM
Many of us whites take a linear perspective of black history in America. They know that the defeat of the Confederacy in the Civil War freed the slaves and that it took an additional hundred years for blacks to gain full civil rights. Missing here are decades of struggle—some considerable gaps—in understanding the challenges before African Americans, especially those in our city.  

There was an influx of new black residents to Cincinnati after the Civil War. A great migration of blacks fled the South in response to the racial attacks taking place under Jim Crow laws; they also sought job opportunities with which to better their lives. A significant exodus of African Americans northward took place in the 1890’s.

While the employment available to blacks always involved hard labor (in 1850, only 8% of the black working force in American held a skilled job) it was still better than the limited options in the South. Moving North also involved a cultural shift, as blacks left behind small town, rural areas for accommodation in cities. As northern industrial centers like Cincinnati saw a large influx of black residents, they had to determine where they would live. 

There was already an exodus in Cincinnati’s lower basin that started in 1870s. The density of factories near the city center led to a myriad of health problems for residents, so middle-upper class citizens started to sprawl to new suburbs like Price Hill, Clifton, Walnut Hills, and Avondale. Between 1870-1940, the lower basin population in Cincinnati dropped by 50%. At the same time, the black population there increased over 700%. By 1940, 67% of the black population in Cincinnati lived in its urban core.

Many blacks lived in the West End. If you recall, the original black enclaves of Bucktown and Little Africa were some of the city’s least desirable real estate. This was the case in the late 19th and early 20th century as well. The housing west of downtown was some of the oldest stock in the city. It’s location within the river basin and east of the Mill Creek meant that it was prone to flooding. 

The naïve might assume that blacks could have merely embraced the American dream to improve their lot in life. This was challenging in itself as they were not permitted to attend the trade schools needed to obtain better jobs. But even if they could somehow escape poverty, they couldn’t flee these housing ghettos even if they wanted to. The practice of redlining—government enforced housing segregation—was at work in Cincinnati. In the 1920’s, the Cincinnati Real Estate Board mandated, “no agent shall rent or sell property to colored people in an established white section or neighborhood and this inhibition shall be particularly applicable to the hilltops and suburban community.” Cincinnati blacks were stuck in the urban core with little opportunity to leave.

There were, however, some committed to making things better. In my opinion, one of our relatively unknown civic heroes was a white man named Jacob Schmidlapp. He lived in the late 19th to early 20th century (1849-1919) and was committed to improving the housing of the city’s blacks. In this era, there was a widely-held belief that African-Americans were not intelligent enough to have basic housing amenities; in black communities, cooking took place in outside kitchens and virtually all their housing in this era had outhouses. Schmidlapp saw beyond this racist rhetoric and designed new homes for black residents. He included floor plans with indoor kitchen and plumbing systems. While they were still efficiency units, Schmidlapp was able to keep costs down to build them en masse. Some of these units survive today over 100 years later; if you’re headed north on Interstate 71 just past Martin Luther King Jr. Drive, you can see some of the red-bricked units on the right of the highway.

CIVIL RIGHTS AND BEYOND
After the Second World War, the United States changed dramatically and this had massive effects on the black community in Cincinnati. The post-war baby boom was starting and it coincided with a shift in the American dream. Whereas public transportation was integral in the previous century, the automobile was staking its place as a symbol of freedom. There would potentially be no limits on where people could live and work.

The 1948 Cincinnati Master Plan was a detailed effort by civic planners to provide for metropolitan growth. The cornerstone of this plan was expanded suburban sprawl. To be fair, this concept wasn’t exclusive to Cincinnati. President Eisenhower noted how well Europe was connected by a system of roads and imagined an America were people could move quickly along the landscape. Like the rest of the country, Cincinnati city fathers embraced a future of cars (and yes, the plan even dreamed of flying cars) and this required a large-scale shift in the city’s landscape.

The proposed interstate highway system running through the city would require the destruction of numerous neighborhoods. This hit the black community more than anyone else.

Interested students can Google the destruction of the West End (specifically the razing of Kenyon-Barr, one of the most vibrant black enclaves in the city). This movement of urban renewal (referred often as “urban removal”) eliminating housing stock and forced the African American community to move elsewhere. I couldn’t find this citation, but there are records of city politicians encouraging white residents of Walnut Hills, Evanston, and Avondale to sell their homes and move to the suburbs as these would become new black enclaves. This is evident in the community identity of Walnut Hills: in 1940, just 16% of residents were black; by 1968, that number was 85%.

The 1960’s were a turbulent time in our country’s history. The effects of urban renewal policies led to white flight from urban areas. The African American community faced high levels of unemployment, leading to high number of young black man enlisting (or drafted) to serve in the military during the Vietnam War. After fighting for our country overseas, soldiers returned to the systemic racism at home. While the Civil Rights Movement advanced the cause of equity, change was slow. The race riots in our city in 1967 and 1968 reflected this frustration. Although new laws were designed to right the wrongs against blacks in America, it couldn’t undo decades of social and economic slights.  

An important example of this is education. While the U.S. Supreme Court decision on Brown v. Board of Education in 1954 made segregation in schooling illegal, it didn’t immediately improve the system for African Americans. Cincinnati still had a segregated housing network. This, combined with Ohio’s method of education funding, meant that living in “the right school district” was key to a student’s success. Among Cincinnati Public Schools, a complex and unpopular busing plan was needed to transport students out of their own neighborhoods in order to desegregate the classrooms. Even though recent efforts to improve the city’s public schools have been helpful, it’s taken 65 years since that landmark ruling to show improvement.

In the decades after the Civil Rights Movement, there were increasing opportunities for blacks in Cincinnati to better their lives. But after generations of dealing with the Cincinnati’s racist systems, would blacks still want to remain here? The northern migration of blacks tapered in the 1960’s. With the decline of northern industrial cities, the 1990’s started a reversed trend of African Americans returning to the South; the explosive growth of Atlanta displays this trend. For blacks committed to cities like Cincinnati, there are continued challenges. Employment is still an issue in in our city, as is the erosion of basic services (the issue of food deserts still doesn’t get enough attention), and industries that prey on the impoverished like check-cashing services, cheap cell phone companies, and tax services. And gentrification, the renewal and rebuilding of deteriorated urban areas by the affluent, reintroduces housing issues.

In short, legislation has failed to reverse centuries of oppression.

Examine the topic that led to this conversation: the call for fairness in policing. The seminal moment in recent years was the killing of Timothy Thomas in April 2001 by a Cincinnati police officer. It prompted a week of riots in our city. Yet while this uprising was smaller in scale than the riots of the 1960’s, it was perhaps even more impactful to improving our city. It forced city leaders to take a hard look at reality and led to the implementation of improved policies by the Cincinnati Police Department. While this hasn’t eliminated incidents, it has undoubtedly been instrumental in changing the narrative of police relations in our city.

FINAL THOUGHTS
So as I conclude this summary, I’ll admit that even this brief view is lacking. There’s so much more we could explore.

You’ll note that I haven’t even added personal commentary to this summary. It’s not that I don’t hold opinions on the topic, but I’m not sure it’s my place at this time. My views as a white male are somewhat inconsequential. The above content speaks for itself and now we should seek black voices to guide as on how whites can participate with our city’s black community so we can continue to pursue what’s better.

My study of Cincinnati’s history convinced me that I could never fully comprehend the plight of my black sisters and brothers. For centuries, our city oppressed its black residents; sometimes it was clear as day, while other times it was more subtle. In response, our city’s white residents must acknowledge these facts and live lives that reflect this reality. We must no longer permit cognitive dissonance.

But I’ll offer one final story from recent history that illustrates the potential subtleties of the our disconnect. It starts with a book I read years ago by Mary Anna Dusablon titled, Walking the Steps of Cincinnati. She noted that our hilly city was designed with a system of staircases to help residents traverse the challenging topography. Her book moved me to appreciate Cincinnati’s steps, as they enable both the poor and rich access to our city’s beauty.

In 2005, residents in my neighborhood started a petition to close the Collins Avenue steps leading down to Taft Road. They suggested that these steps were increasing crime in the area. The city’s public works commission recommended against it and a police study affirmed that there was no actually increase in crime. Still, City Council voted to close the steps. It was supposed to only last for five years but I can’t find any evidence that they’ve actually been reopened.

To this day, I am curious as to why this was necessary. At that time, and still today, I feel that there was a racial component at work here. If I’m wrong about this, I’m very open to being corrected. But, unfortunately, I think I’m right.

The steps seem to have been closed out of an unnecessary fear. It’s a posture that has dominated relations between blacks and whites in our city for over two centuries. In this case, as it is in many, the pursuit of safety threatens our very existence. When fear is wielded as a tool of oppression, no one wins. 

I view those steps as a symbol of how Cincinnati has subtly resisted change. Until the white population of Cincinnati admits our prejudices toward our black neighbors, we’ll never become the city we’ve always aspired to be.

It’s why I am cautiously optimistic from what I’ve seen by the protests of 2020. Seeing whites in great numbers march and protest with the black community is inspirational. It’s a sign of a changing tide. But it can’t be the end. The real change will be revealed when we see what our city looks like on the other side.

Cincinnati has a dark past. I pray it has a bright future.

What We Knew

We are in month three of COVID-19 quarantine. I haven’t written much about it (as I’m not sure there are any brilliant observations to made while in the midst of it) but I have been trying to pan out from the situation so as not to miss out on any lessons.

Going through some of my reading notes, I noted an observation from Nobel prize winning economist Daniel Kahneman from his book Thinking Fast and Slow. In light of all the statements of certainty that people are spewing, I appreciate his wisdom.

I have heard of too many people who 'knew well before it happened that the 2008 financial crisis was inevitable.' This sentence contains a highly objectionable word, which should be removed from our vocabulary in discussions of major events.

The word is, of course, knew.

Some people thought well in advance that there would be a crisis, but they did not know it. They now say they knew it because the crisis did in fact happen. This is a misuse of an important concept. In everyday language, we apply the word know only when what was known is true and can be shown to be true. We can know something only if it is both true and knowable.

But the people who thought there would be a crisis (and there are fewer of them than now remember thinking it) could not conclusively show it at the time. Many intelligent and well-informed people were keenly interested in the future of the economy and did not believe a catastrophe was imminent; I infer from this fact that the crisis was not knowable. What is perverse about the use of know in this context is not that some individuals get credit for prescience that they do not deserve. It is that the language implies that the world is more knowable than it is. It helps perpetuate a pernicious illusion.

A little humility in these times will do all of us well.

The Give and Take of CCU

The news that Cincinnati Christian University will close its doors is not terribly surprising but is still saddening. No doubt others will join me in this lament, and we should cry; most of all, our hearts should break for current students, staff, and faculty who must wrestle with more than nostalgia. They have a challenging path before them, and we should pray for their futures.

But, as with most situations, grieving will likely soon be replaced by anger. The search for scapegoats upon whom we can thrust blame for the demise of this storied university, will soon commence if it hasn’t already started. As a result, I offer this pastoral counsel to those seeking wrath during this time:

Don’t rush to the internet to project your theories about why CCU failed. Chances are, you’ll say something in rage that you’ll later regret.

And you’re likely wrong.

The influences that led to the demise of CCU goes further back than just the past few years. In fact, I hold that there was a fatal flaw in its DNA that led to this moment. Before revealing this, let me first illustrate why CCU was an amazing place.

I find it ironic that this news was released just days after the passing of Ron Henderson, a beloved CCU faculty member. I cared very deeply for this man. He was not only a good professor but a wonderful minister. He loved his students. He was generous to my wife and me. He and his wife, Gerri, would host students in their house and would often take them out to lunch. Perhaps he’s best known for memorizing the name of every student in the incoming freshman class. His dedication to his alma mater didn’t end in retirement—when I oversaw the advancement department, the Hendersons would come in once a week to volunteer their time archiving library records.

Ron Henderson’s passing reminds me how blessed I was to study under individuals like him who completely immersed themselves in this ministry. They served not for wealth, nor for acclaim, but in submission to the calling from their Lord. There are so many other women and men like Ron who gave their lives in service to CCU. Without doubt, they were there to give of their best to the Master.

If the school had been able to harness this spirit of sacrifice in every aspect of its existence, this day would never have come. But there was something that countered this goodness.

CCU’s history was filled with not only giving but with taking.

As one of the most influential forces in the Restoration Movement, the institution held a power that could be harnessed for the good of the kingdom. There were countless servants like Ron Henderson who funneled that power back into the lives of students—hopeful that the next generation would go on to change the world for Christ. This was CCU at its best: when humble servants gave endlessly.

But there were always individuals seeking to take this power and use it for their own gain. They believed that the accolades they accumulated were the result of their own intelligence, when it was actually the collective brilliance of the community. They repurposed CCU’s influence to promote their own agendas, to build personal kingdoms, and to assert that they were right.

This “need to be right” was the flaw in our DNA which would always be our demise. It wasn’t something that magically appeared during these final years; it was there all along. We used biblical influence to win arguments and take personal ground when we should have kept giving it away.

I developed this give/take theory in the years since I left my job at CCU. Doing so forced me to reflect on my own actions. Where did I land in this give/take dichotomy? I hope that I gave far more than I took. I want to make a list of accomplishments validating this, but does it matter? Maybe I was a serial taker and not a giver. Maybe it’s all my fault. But I hope not.

At the very least, my goal was to be like Ron Henderson.

I’m not sure what the future holds now that CCU will be no more. But if it meant something to you—if it strengthened your faith, forged your family, or changed your life’s trajectory—I urge you to be a giver. The kingdom of God is a reflection of the selflessness of our Savior. Anyone can take, but to give of yourself is truly how we walk in the way of Christ.

Weep with me, and when the sadness subsides, don’t let anger win. Instead determine where and how the Lord is moving so that you can take part in the next movement to be birthed. You will be called to give. Will you answer the call?

There’s more to come. It will just have a different name.

Institutions come and go, but the kingdom of God will last forever.

The Value of Realistic Expectations

“Managing our expectations is perhaps the most difficult challenge of choice, but one way to do so is to look to those who have shown how constraints create their own beauty and freedom.”
—Sheena Iyengar, The Art of Choosing

This past weekend, I sat in my seat fuming.

As season ticket holders to our local professional soccer club, we’ve been through highs and lows in recent years. The most recent high was earning a spot in Major League Soccer. As far as the lows, well, those have can be summarized by our entire first season in the league.

Our last game was a rivalry match so the stadium was packed and the fanbase was ready to go. Our players, however, were not up for the moment. By halftime, our opponent’s lead was insurmountable and the match was already decided. At the break, I sat there in anger. My wife and daughter decided it was best to spend halftime out in the concourse away from me.

Interestingly, I knew this would happen. When we were given an expansion franchise, I told all my fellow fans that this season would be challenging. In any sport, expansion franchises struggle; we would have to endure a lot of losing in exchange for this golden opportunity. Yet even though I knew we’d lose, watching our team take yet another drubbing tested my theory.

When I discuss leadership issues, I try to emphasize the value of realistic expectations. Quite often, our initiatives fail not because they were unsuccessful, but because we didn’t provide sufficient space for them to grow. If you don’t begin a project by establishing attainable benchmarks, you will likely feel defeated even if you are not.

Personally, I saw this when we planted a church in the city fourteen years ago. We knew that our context was challenging and that our funding model would produce a smaller yield. Because we articulated this, we were able to persevere; the church is doing well today. In contrast, I remember dozens of other churches started near us at that same time; many of them no longer exist. By most metrics, they were doing well, even better than we were. But in nearly every incident, the leadership of these congregations were certain that they’d perform better than they actually did. Unable to deal with this reality, they surrendered and closed up shop.

Look, I’m all for creating BHAG’s to inspire us to expand our dreams. But when you’re trying something new, be realistic. Ultimately, our ability to do so will determine our success.

As a marathoner, people come to me about running advice all the time. I’m often surprised when someone who hasn’t run in years asks me about running 26.2 miles. I try to recalibrate the conversation, and encourage them to first look at a couch-to-5K program. Sure, it’s not a massive goal for some, but it can be part of a process.The adage says you have to learn to crawl before you learn to walk. Yet in an era of instant results, we’re losing sight of what it means to be realistic.

By the end of halftime, I had calmed down. I was still frustrated, but I remembered what I told so many others about our soccer team’s success. By framing my expectations realistically, I’m trying to enjoy this difficult part of the process.

If we’re still a losing club in a few years, I’ll come back, delete this post, and question my reasoning.

My Philosophy of FaceApp

I didn’t download FaceApp, the hottest “make yourself look old” mobile phone application.

And it wasn’t Russian data hacks that kept me from joining in. FaceApp experienced minor backlash when it was revealed the company behind the app is from St Petersburg. Look, if you use any social media today, you’re always sacrificing privacy. I’m far more concerned about Mark Zuckerberg misusing my data than Vladimir Putin, so the Russians didn’t frighten me.

I didn’t download FaceApp because I already recognize the inevitability it asks us to envision.

I’ve come to grips with the fact that one day I’ll (hopefully?) grow old and then I will die. I’m not trying to be morbid, but death is my future. But rather than be paralyzed by it, this idea drives me when I wake up in the morning. Each day is one day closer to my last. Instead of squandering it, I try to make the most of it as time is our most precious commodity.

Not everyone shares this perspective, but maybe this is where FaceApp could prove helpful. We’re fascinated with seeing ourselves as old people because we have a disconnect with the future; we have no idea what it looks like. But an image of our older selves gives us a glimpse of this. And that can be powerful.

It can be motivating. What if you printed out a couple of your old geezer FaceApp pics and laminated them? Then you kept a picture of your old self by your work station or in your car or by your bathroom mirror. Would that be enough to move you to make the most of every minute?

Philosopher Søren Kierkegaard believed that the key to life is, "to find a purpose, whatever it is that God wills me to do, to find a truth which is true to me, to find the idea which I am willing to live and die for." Author Stephen Covey encouraged people to, “begin with the end in mind."

Would seeing a picture of your older self be enough to change the way you view today?

New Views

As I write this, our family is in the midst of a two week tour of three European cities. Thanks to a massive collection of airline points and some friends with a spare bedroom, we were able to take a relatively affordable vacation across the pond.

I must admit, however, that my excitement for these adventures is always measured because of the trepidation of travel. It can be intimidating to be in a country with foreign languages, currencies, and cultures. But I’m at the point of life where I know I need to seek out these kind of opportunities to stretch my way of thinking. As much as I take hi-res pictures in these places, I’m also collecting mental photographs of locations and interactions that stretch my thinking.

Whether I acknowledge it or not, different is good.

Despite the jet lag and other oddities that accompany visiting new places, I soak it all in. We need to mess with our routines every now and then. So try a new restaurant, take a new route to the office, buy an article of clothing that isn’t really your style. Shake things up and see what you learn about yourself.

What's My Calling?

Recently I received an email from someone asking about their job situation and how it connects to their faith. I decided to post my response here.

Thanks for reaching out to me, especially concerning such a personal matter. Over the years, I’ve had dozens of conversations concerning the nature of biblical calling. Your email challenged me to finally write out what I’ve discussed in those moments. Read below and see 1) what this resolves in your situation and 2) what questions it brings to the surface.

I’ll caution you in advance: the way that I perceive calling tends to be atypical when compared to some ministers. It might not resolve your dilemma. But perhaps this counsel, balanced with some other biblical advice, will help as the Spirit guides you in the journey. 

A Biblical Determination
In times of doubt we look to the Bible, and rightly so. The issue with doing so, however, is when we isolate certain texts and use those examples to extrapolate a position. This is exactly what often occurs when we examine the topic of calling. We can read multiple examples where the Lord called certain individuals to specific tasks: Noah to build an ark, Moses to liberate his people, Paul to preach to the Gentiles. But these examples don’t necessarily provide a pattern to follow. There were millions of others who lived in the biblical era who didn’t receive a divine commandment to action. Therefore, we today need to grapple with what calling looks like when we don’t hear the audible voice of God. 

As I read the Scriptures, I’m struck by the breadth of God’s permissibility in our lives. He offers humanity freedom in pursuing our future. This is best observed in the Garden of Eden, where the Lord allowed Adam and Eve to tend to the garden and create as they had been created. Rather than take advantage of the many possibilities this could encompass, they chose the one option that was untenable for God. 

They chose to sin. 

And I would suggest that here, in the very beginning, lies the simplistic explanation of biblical calling: we are called by God not to sin. This is the ultimate measure by which we should discern the choices before us. If what I’m doing is sinful, then it is not God’s calling, and I should repent. 

I should add that there seems to be one more measure here: Our calling must not lead others to sin. The basis for this determination can be found in Paul’s discussion with the church in Corinth in 1 Corinthians 8. We must determine if our calling is a net-negative to the kingdom of God. Living by this measure is much more complex than not to sin; it’s less black and white and more gray. Still, it isn’t necessarily that difficult if we’re willing to be honest. We must consider if our calling brings harm to others.

So the Scriptures teach that if our calling 1) isn’t sinful and 2) doesn’t lead others to sin, it is permissible in God’s eyes. The issue is that adopting this as the biblical guide still leaves us with infinite possibilities.

The Tension of Pursuing Calling
Moving on to your question, you’re trying to determine if what you’re seeking professionally is actually making an impact. In any job (even ministry) there are moments when the byproduct of our work can leave us feeling down. But this can happen regardless of whether our work is lucrative or if it pays nothing. 

I’ve talked to many a successful business person who has lamented that they can generate wealth. They feel guilty about their income even though, quite often, they are achieving it in a moral way. Similarly, I’ve talked to ministers or non-profit employees frustrated that their work isn’t as fruitful as they would like it to be. Even though their actions are deemed to be more noble, they can still feel polarized by the outcome. This is why I suggest that the issue isn’t money. In our society, placing a price tag on an object or a task has a psychological impact; we accept the value ascribed to it as carrying more weight than it actually does.

We mustn’t get distracted here. Going back to the garden, humans are told to create and tend. The remuneration of these actions—whether money or satisfaction—are not an expression of God’s justice or favor. In fact, the apostle Paul challenges us that part of our obligation as Christians is to contextualize our work. In Colossians 3, we’re reminded that, “whatever you do, whether in word of deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”

To resolve our tension, we need to remember why we’re working. Christians believe that there’s more to life than this. If we pursue our calling in light of eternity, we’ll get a satisfaction in our labor that those outside of Christ will struggle to find.

Choosing Between the Paths
Returning to your present situation, it sounds like you have a trilemma. You should take comfort in the fact that it’s a similar decision that many face as they grapple with their calling. As we’ve noted above, as long as the sin issue is resolved (and it seems to be in your situation), you have three paths you could pursue.

1. Redeem where you are
In light of the biblical study above, your current job doesn’t need to be an impediment to your calling. Even though you’re grappling with the fact that it’s been financially lucrative, it provides you opportunities to steward wealth. In my decades working in the church, I continue to appreciate those that understand the blessings of their work. It might be that, instead of changing jobs, it’s just time to expand your extracurricular ministries. There are many missions and ministries that could benefit from your investment and counsel. This could be an option, but perhaps it’s time to . . .

2. Pursue a new opportunity
Maybe you just cannot feel at ease in your current job. That’s understandable. The Spirit works through our conscience, so there’s no need for us to live under a guilt that burdens our walk with Christ. In this case, you still need to considerable how this job unleashes your calling in Christ. My only warning here is that changing employment, even if it’s a great opportunity, won’t resolve the tension of your calling. You’’ll still need to wrestle with you can maximize this opportunity for the kingdom. One more option . . .

3. Move toward ministry
Because of my background, I’ve had numerous people in the business world inquire about a transition into full-time vocational ministry. I may be wrong, but I think your email implied that were considering if this is where you need to be. Since I’m an ordained minister, but have worked outside the local church, I think I have a balanced perspective to say the following: full-time ministry is not a higher calling than any other kingdom task. This isn’t to say that I don’t respect the sacrifices of those in ministry. Yet if we are to truly embrace the priesthood of all believers, we cannot create a hierarchy of calling. If this is where you need to do, you’ll know. But don’t think that this path is more noble than the other two. 

I know it appears that I’m punting by not suggesting a preferable path, but I sincerely have no idea where you feel pulled. Ultimately these conversations are healthy. We should always perform some self-inventory as part of our spiritual growth. But I encourage you to do some from a positive perspective. As a follower of Christ, you are called. I’ll be praying for you as you seek his calling. 

Blessings,
steve

Soccer Will Become America's Favorite Sport

The nice thing about having a website that stretches back fifteen years is you can see how your opinion has evolved. Back in 2007, I wrote a blog post about the sport of soccer. Twelve years ago, I was a little confident that soccer would continue to grow in America. Now I realize I undersold it.

In my lifetime, soccer will become America’s favorite sport.

I have numerous reasons supporting this opinion, but a recent event with my hometown soccer club will best illustrate how it will get there.

Cincinnati had a line of many failed soccer franchises over the years, so I was a little skeptical when FC Cincinnati was announced in summer 2015. But the club was a phenomenon, breaking lower league attendance records and growing a rabid fanbase. As much as this meteoric rise can be attributed to ownership, it’s as much a reflection of the growth of the sport in this country.

The club set its sights on earning a bid to Major League Soccer and developed a stadium plan (privately funded) to cement the deal. So this Sunday, a club that didn’t exist until 3.5 years ago will play its first home MLS match.

But this past week, the club made a peculiar announcement. Since MLS doesn’t have an exclusive broadcast partner, teams are permitted to negotiate individual television rights. In the local market, FC Cincinnati struck a deal with one of the smallest TV station. Since the range of this station is limited, they also signed a deal with a streaming company called FloSports. This digital broadcast company has garnered a negative perception as their partnership with DC United has delivered frustration to fans; not only is the service expensive, it lacks a consistent, quality stream.

When FCC announced the deal, the club faced its biggest backlash in its history. The cost of subscribing to FloSports is more than some of season tickets. It wouldn’t seem like a big deal since most FCC fans can watch for free on basic television; this would most impact fans outside of the metro area. But nearly every FCC supporter group has come out against the partnership. It was such a contentious issue that the team President scheduled a press conference to discuss the deal. Remember that this streaming situation impacted a minority of fans. But fans felt united that no one should be left behind.

And this is why that soccer will continue to transform America’s sports landscape: fans are more than fans.

In many ways, American soccer culture is beginning to mimic the soccer culture that exists in other countries. Unlike basketball, football, and baseball, soccer clubs keep a symbiotic relationship with their supporters; in some ways, soccer fans can be as influential as team owners. Their voice that can force the club to action.

Two more examples of this. First, when FCC changed the design of the logo, a Reddit user randomly claimed that the lion in the logo was named “Gary.” At the logo unveiling, fans were chanting his name so when the club finally revealed a new mascot, the club gave in and adopted the name. Then, there was the situation in Columbus when the owner wanted to move the club to Texas. Local fans united and eventually kept the franchise from leaving town.

It’s this power, this voice, that will attract future generations of fans. As a soccer fan, you’re not just supporting the team—you’re a part of it.

I’ll admit that I’ve bought in to the hype. We’re season ticket holders and I truly feel as if our family has a partnership with the FCC. I’ve always loved the Cincinnati Reds, and have an emotional connection with the club. But the relationship we have with the FCC, though only a few years old, is far more robust. As an expansion club, I know we’ll see some poor performances on the field this year, but I’m excited regardless. Yes we’ll lose, but we made it to the major leagues together.

Soccer is tapping into the American psyche and providing an experience. I’m not sure the current major American sports will ever be able to reclaim this culture.

I’ll be interested to read this post twelve years from now and see if I oversold it.

The Death of a Missionary: Thinking About John Allen Chau

The past couple of weeks, I’ve been processing the death of John Allen Chau. You likely know the his story—a twenty-something young man murdered by an isolated tribe on a remote island when he attempted to convert them to Christianity. Mr. Chau’s death has drawn both shock and outrage from both sides—those who either support or condemn his actions.

North Sentinel Island, located in the Indian Ocean and under the authority of the nation of India, is inhabited by the Sentinelese people, one of the most isolated people groups remaining on earth. With very limited connection to the outside world, they’ve been known to react violently to anyone attempting to set foot on their island. Mr. Chau wasn’t the first visitor to be killed by the Sentinelese in recent years; in 2006 the tribe killed fishermen who accidentally infringed on their space.

Like many incidents portrayed in the media, it’s complex but is being approached too simplistically. As a theologian and a pragmatist, I want to help both my Christian and non-Christian friends consider this tragedy from a more thoughtful perspective rather than merely assessing blame. So bear with me as I do my best to deconstruct this incident.

Attack on Evangelism
A primary critique I’ve read from skeptics is that religious proselytizing should be forbidden; evangelism (especially Christian evangelism) is deemed an outdated and offensive concept. While I disagree with Mr. Chau’s evangelistic approach, I endorse his desire to evangelize to the Sentinelese; in a Christian worldview, our acceptance of faith demands that we share it with others. While our evangelistic fervor is more intense than many world religions, the right to peacefully proselytize is more than just a Christian value. My position would be the same were Mr. Chau a Buddhist, Muslim, or believer from any other religious group.

As technological developments continue to influence our understanding of the world around us, progressive society will continue to become less tolerant of evangelism. But people of faith shouldn’t be forced to apologize for trying to share their faith. The religious oppression taking place today in developing countries continues to affirm that the American values of freedom of speech and religion should be embraced globally. Regardless of whether one believes in the message, missionaries should have the right to deliver their message peaceably.

Consequences of Missionary Work
Throughout the New Testament and church history, men and women who boldly proclaim the Gospel have paid the highest sacrifice for their preaching. While the Christian Scriptures repeatedly encourage fidelity to God’s law over human law, this is not without a price. It is sad that Mr. Chau was killed for his faith, but it is not surprising; in his journal, he acknowledged this reality and he was prepared to give his life for the cause. I have nothing but respect for people who take on such a call to preach in challenging places. Our family and church financially support missionaries around the globe, many of whom risk their lives to talk about Jesus. This tragedy serves as a reminder for us Christians to pray for those willing to die so that the world may know.
 
Living in Submission
While the Bible offers numerous examples of those called by the Lord to do amazing things, we should seek to understand that call. In the New Testament, God predominantly called groups of believers, not individuals, to accomplish his work—whether disciples or missionaries or churches. And if an individual was called, they were still in communion with other believers. The structure of the church advocates communal submission and discourages individual autonomy. To me, this was missing in Mr. Chau’s mission to the people on this remote island. From what I have read, his decision to go to the Sentinelese was a personal one. Even though he was trained by a missionary organization, he wasn’t sponsored, encouraged, or supported to perform such work by any group. So while he claimed this mission as a calling, his isolationist approach makes me question if it was really an individual desire rather than the moving of the Lord.

Christians who choose to “go it alone” in spiritual directives are not truly fulfilling the biblical ideal. And if we ever feel the burden of a calling that is not affirmed by other believers or church leaders, we should reevaluate the call itself. Even when one is called to evangelize, he must consider that it’s the church’s call. Christians are also called to live in community and mutual submission to each other.

Implications of Martyrdom
We Christians honor those who perish for their faith. Church history is filled with examples of those martyred for the cause of Christ; the sacrifice is Christ-like, as Jesus taught in John 15:13: “greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” This is why some Christians are struggling with Mr. Chau’s actions. His death is being viewed as a suicide mission, as he himself noted the violent history of the Sentinelese. Instead of trying to interpret his martyrdom, I want to look at those who will be impacted by his death.
 
As North Sentinel Island is under authority of India—a nation that is not hospitable for Christians—Mr. Chau’s death will affect missionary work throughout that country. His death has become a diplomatic nightmare and some Indian citizens (and perhaps government officials) could take out their frustrations on Christians and missionaries trying to evangelize. I personally know people ministering in India, and my first reaction to Mr. Chau’s death was to fear for their lives.

This is why I suggest that Mr. Chau did not fully consider the ramifications of his preaching. His journal reveals that he knew he might die while preaching to this tribe, and that he was ready to meet his Maker. But his desire to give his life to reach 50 to 100 Sentinelese ignored the plight of Indian missionaries who are already reaching tens of thousands of people with the Gospel message. Unfortunately, Mr. Chau’s death has the potential to create even more martyrs.

So while I can appreciate what motivated Mr. Chau to go to North Sentinel, I cannot endorse his actions. While he was prepared to give his own life, he did not understand how it will impact the lives of his fellow workers for Christ throughout that region.

Accountability for Murder
While I hold that Mr. Chau was misguided, the Sentinelese must not be excused here. They needlessly took a human life. I’ve read quite a few articles suggesting that the Sentinelese were at grave risk from Mr. Chau because they lack the immune system to fight outside viruses and, therefore, were justified in taking his life. I just cannot accept this. His actions do not justify his murder. If skeptics wish to assign all the blame on this tragedy on Mr. Chau, they’re failing to acknowledge our societal need for accountability.

I’m not suggesting putting the Sentinelese on trial to determine guilt for Mr. Chau’s murder. But the Sentinelese must not be empowered to exercise justice as if they were a sovereign nation. Like it or not, they’re part of a global community. The Indian government ignored this issue far too long. Instead of grappling with how to work with the tribe, they passed laws that inevitably set the stage for this tragedy. For better or worst, Mr. Chau’s death has now brought even more exposure to the Sentinelese and there will absolutely be another incident if action isn’t taken. They must not be given carte blanche to kill again.

How Should We Respond?
More than anything, we should be sad. The death of Mr. Chau is media fodder and, in a digital age full of hot takes, his death has become a lightning rod. There is so much good work that Christians do in the world, yet this tragedy has been used to divide. It’s been overlooked that the missionary was trying to provide the Sentinelese with supplies and tools to improve their way of life. He had spent a decade researching these people, and I truly believe he loved them. Regardless of your ideology, this is just a tragic occurrence. We must learn from it.

To those who don’t hold my religious convictions, I’m hoping that you’re gracious to those like myself who understand why Mr. Chau did what he did. He was well-intentioned but made a decision that had consequences. Rather than laud that he got what he deserved, I would hope we could acknowledge that his death is not OK. Primitive society or not, we mustn’t think that any group of people has the right to murder the innocent.

And to my Christian brothers and sisters, I hope this reminds us the importance of balanced theology. While evangelism and missionary work is a holy calling, we should beware when we make the evangelist or the missionary the hero of the story; in our metanarrative, Jesus is the hero. And rather than regaling young believers with stories of martyrs, we’d be better served focusing on the sacrifice of Jesus–the death that truly made the difference.

I think this is as much a failure of the Christian community as it is with Mr. Chau. We should all accept blame here. He was let down by church communities that didn’t help him develop a fully-formed view of faith. His approach was individualistic and, though he had the best of intentions, his death might have done more harm than good. It’s truly sad that such a passionate soul wasn’t discipled better. And that’s our fault.

We must do better. His death should serve as a reminder for us to do so.

_______
Photo by Aishath Naj on Unsplash

How To Combat Digital Rage

Unsolicited advice of the day: don't send that angry email, text, or social media post.

I say this because it’s a rule I implemented in my life a few years ago but I almost violated it earlier this week.

Like you, I despise injustice so, when one is placed before me (especially on directed toward me personally), I feel the need to respond immediately. Sure, it's therapeutic and feels like an appropriate reaction when faced with the stupidity of others, but the web permits us the power to overreact. As time passes, I notice that my anger generally subsidizes. But when I tweet or email immediately, there's a digital record of me flying off the handle. Even if I’m justified, it’s not a good look.

Since explosive anger is one of my worst traits, I've been trying in recent years to become more levelheaded when facing ridiculousness. By no means have I arrived, but I’m at least gaining momentum. So while I write this advice for the benefit of others, I’m reminding myself more than anything.

Now, when I’m about to use technology as a tool of my anger, I still use words. But instead of hurrying to react, I open up an email, type out a response, and let it sit for twelve hours. That's ample time for me to figure out if the issue is as critical as I initially thought it was. Many times I go back and either delete the message or, if it’s still something that needs to be addressed, I edit the anger out of it. I’ve discovered that this discipline still allows me to get something off my chest while being more measured in how I respond. Whenever possible, I actually try to wait until I can see someone face-to-face to have the confrontation. Of course, it’s more awkward than a text or email, but it’s ultimately healthier.

Anger escalates. Patience can be productive. Take a break before hitting “send.”

*One more thing: never fill the “TO” line when composing your rage email. A couple of times I sent those anger emails by accident and there’s no turning back (unless you use Gmail).

Lessons from The West

Earlier this year, I watched the Ken Burns produced PBS documentary, The West. I mostly watched it on the treadmill, so it took me a few weeks to wade through the 12 hours of screentime. The 1996 miniseries unfurled the history of America’s conquest of the land west of the Mississippi River. It was a painfully transparent retelling of our nation’s expansion, featuring the many atrocities committed by our government and citizens against Native Americans.

It’s quite the viewing commitment but I highly recommend working through it. I’m not sure I can summarize how it affected my thinking, but I wanted to offer a lesson I took from it—specifically about the American narrative.

We created certain stories about what it meant to be American. The West explores how, for decades, we adopted a dubious narrative. In the documentary, a quote by historian Richard White does well to reflect the reality that producers sought to convey.

"The myth of the west is a very appealing one. The myth of the west is that there once existed a place which was free for the taking, and in which people who were willing to work hard, people who were willing to invest their own labor, could not only improve their lives, but they could improve the place themselves. That out of this labor, out of this struggle would come progress, would come a better world than they had ever imagined, not just for themselves and not just for their children, but indeed for the whole world. Stated that way, the myth has this extraordinary appeal. But of course what it does is mask an infinitely more complicated and more tangled story." 

The tangled story is the cost of this better world: it was paid for by Native Americans. They were brutalized and sanitized and were robbed of their story for the sake of ours. This concept was propogated by Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. In this live action review, Bill Cody was able to transform the narrative of conquest so that the expanding Americans became the victim. White continues,

"[Buffalo Bill’s show] about the conquest of the West, but everything that the audience sees is Indians attacking whites. It's a strange story of an inverted conquest . . . a celebration of conquest in which the conquerors are the victims. And there's something... deeply weird about this. It's conquest won without the guilt. We didn't plan it; they attacked us, and when we ended up, we had the whole continent." 

It may be painful to hear, but this story of American exceptionalism was a fabrication. It doesn’t mean that people had it easy creating new societies in the Western territory, but it was far more insidious than a mere tale of overcoming the challenges of nature. Our story involves trampling on those who stood in our way.

All of this left me conflicted.

I’m still proud to be American, but I’m embarrassed by some of the sins that brought us here. Yet understanding the truth behind the tidy narrative actually empowers me on a personal level. I accept that I can overcome the many flaws in my character as I try to become a better man. They don’t have to limit my future but, at the very least, I must acknowledge my sins.

Like I said, this miniseries impacted me. Give it a watch. See what it does to you.

Photo by Jasper van der Meij on Unsplash

StartUp Church Planting

Since its first season, I’ve been a listener of StartUp podcast. As an entrepreneurial type, I’m always fascinated with the why and how of starting new projects. What began as an insider view of Cincinnati native Alex Blumberg’s quest to start his own podcast company has expanded to a nontraditional media empire. ABC even tried to make a sitcom out of the story.

So when they announced that this season’s edition of StartUp would focus on church planting, I was pleasantly surprised—especially since they were covering an urban church plant by one of our Movement's organizations. I was curious how this would be portrayed; StartUp is not a religious podcast, so their observations of church planting from an outside (and even skeptical) perspective could have been awkward. Ultimately, I commend producers and journalists for a fair look at the modern state of church planting through the origins of Restoration Church. AJ, the lead minister at Restoration, reflected on the entire podcast experience in a two-part blog post at Christianity Today.

Since I helped start an urban church thirteen years ago, and since I think the content of this series has broader interest, I want to highlight three things I’m still chewing on from the podcast:

1. Identity
AJ was one of those guys who fell into church planting. He didn’t necessarily pursue it but took the mantle when the previous church planter left. What he soon discovered was something that all church planters (and nearly all lead ministers) realize: the lead person becomes the visible identity of the whole church. Even though newer church plants tend to emphasize the team approach to ministry (I find this much healthier), it doesn’t eliminate this identity issue.

While listening to the podcast, I empathized with AJ as he expressed this. It definitely gets in your head, as you feel compelled to “always be on.” Even though I’m an extrovert, there are times when I need to recharge; oftentimes there isn’t space for church leaders to do so without being perceived as being unwelcoming. Now that I am a church elder leading from the pews, I feel that one of my shepherding obligations is to create opportunities for our staff to breathe and be themselves. Ministers need to believe that the entire organization won’t collapse if they’re not superhuman.

2. Finance
Since I advise churches on financial strategy, I was keenly interested in the podcast’s revealing discussion concerning Restoration Church’s cash flow. StartUp used the church’s need for growth as a plot point in their storytelling—they explained that the church needed to grow in attendance in order to get enough offering to stay in business. This is perhaps the greatest source of discomfort for church planters: their desire to create new styles of ministry is directly connected to their ability to structure a fiscally sound organization. My impression is—the vast majority of new churches that fail do so because they never reach financial viability.

We started Echo Church on a shoestring budget; we were self-supporting week one, but we used a credit card to get there. Ours was a low-overhead approach that required my family to take responsibility for covering salary expenses. While I thrived in a bi-vocational setting, I can see, years later, that it was likely a hindrance to our church’s growth. While Echo still has bi-vocational ministers, we’re in a multi-year process of shifting our model. It will force us to talk about money more than many people will be comfortable, but I’ve grown to see this topic interlinked with discipleship. I’ve been processing this for years now and hope to formulate a more complete overview of discipleship and ministry finance in 2019.
 
3. Tension
The reason I resonated so much with AJ and Restoration Church is because urban church planting is a much different animal than suburban or rural planting. An entire episode of the podcast covered theology, and I’m sure it was the most controversial installment of the entire series. Generally churches in the city are the object of critique from those nestled on both sides of the theological spectrum. One of the most difficult things I’ve done pastorally is to maintain relationships with people on both sides of the spectrum while continuing to cling to a biblical theology.

Even though I’m a quasi-theologian, I don’t think I’m biased when I suggest that theology will become the most important issue in new church work in the decades to come. Our church planting organizations have done an excellent job of understanding entrepreneurialism and organizational growth, but this has often relied on marketing techniques. As culture continues to become more progressive, marketing efforts will be perceived with skepticism until “consumers” can determine exactly what a church believes. It’s a minefield, and the church is wading into it. This is another topic I’ve been thinking about that I’ll likely expound upon later.

Suffice to say, this past season of StartUp is compelling. Whether or not you’re a person of faith, I highly recommend giving this a listen.