A CHURCH WITH NO NAME
By Spencer Burke
For years, I’ve tried to put my finger on it—the reasons why I left the
professional pastorate. And you know, more than anything, I think it’s this: I
lost my first love.
The reality is that much of what we call
ministry today is really administration. It’s about adding things—programs and
strategies and rules. In my 22 years as a pastor, I often administered more
than I ministered, if that makes sense. I’ve come to see that I was an
add-minister more than a minister.
Even worse, I now recognize much of what I
did in those years was actually about me—what I needed to do to feel safe and
secure. It was about my needs more than the needs of the community.
Nevertheless, it seems I’m a pastor again.
My friend Matt, and his wife, Krista are pastors as well. And so is my wife and my five-year-old son, Alden. Yup, we’re all
pastors at Church.
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No, really. That’s what it’s called:
Church. Not First Presbyterian. Not Solomon’s Porch or Scum of the Earth or
some other cool postmodern name. It’s just called Church—and it meets well,
whenever and wherever we decide to meet. Last week it was the park; next week,
it might be the beach.
It’s pretty wild, isn’t it? I mean, who
would have thought I’d be starting a church with just one other couple and no
budget? Who does that? Who says, “Hey, wanna start a
church on Thursday?” and believes God could be in it?
Former add-ministers trying to unpackage ministry, I guess. I really don’t know how else
to explain it. All I can say is that Lisa and I feel
like it’s time. Time to try again. Time to start
living out some of the ideas we’ve been talking about for years. Time to move away from the institutional church and toward a new
kind of kingdom community—one where the voice of a homeless man is just as
valid as the guy with the seminary degree.
As far as program goes, we don’t have one
and you know what? I’m okay with that—well, not really, but I’m trying.
Although some would say we’re taking the easy way out—planting a church overnight
with no set plan—I’m actually finding it extremely difficult. I mean, where I
come from, planting a church means months—if not years—of planning, 50 families
and at least $25,000 in start-up money. At the very least, it means filing a
501C3 and declaring yourself an official religious organization. And yet, we
have none of those things. In fact, we’re breaking pretty much every
conventional church-planting rule I know. Why? Because we
want to be ministers of the gospel, not “add-ministers.” We want to be
of service, not just a service (i.e. Sunday event). But I’d be lying if I said
it was easy to let go of the program; it’s not.
It’s funny, the other night we talked
about giving. Would we take up an offering? Would we have a church bank
account? In the end, we decided against these things and instead, determined
that we would all just give to people when we saw needs. So a few days ago my
son was out playing and decided to give away the five coins that were rattling
around in his pocket. He saw a need, I guess. He literally gave his offering to
another kid. He didn’t make stewardship the responsibility of the church
administrator or some committee; he just did it.
A week ago we got some food and headed
over to a nearby park where a lot of homeless people hang out. Over the next
few hours we just talked with people. It was an amazing time. We got to meet
Joe, a 50-year-old man who is a jewelry designer by trade. He showed us a
beautiful Celtic design he’d done using the letters of the word “Jesus.”
Did I know Joe was going to be there?
Nope. Did I ask him to “give the sermon”? Nope. That’s what was so wonderful
about it. We just enjoyed being with each other in this organic, earthy way.
Ironically, even though I love this new
idea of church, there’s a part of me that still wants to reign
it in and box it up in a manageable form. It’s really weird being a no-name
church. “But how will people find us?” I asked. “Well, they’ll find us as God
leads, I guess,” came the reply. Hmmm.
You mean we don’t need a marketing plan? We don’t need a vision statement and a
mission statement and a formal discipleship program? What about an events
calendar and a regular day to meet—surely we need those things?
It’s funny the stuff I’ve worried about in
making this switch. What, for instance, will my biography say when I do
speaking engagements? Spencer Burke, Creator of TheOoze
and co-founder of Church? No, wait,
I’ve worried about my children. What will
happen to them without the safety of an administered Sunday School
program. And yet, time and again, they’re wowing me with their grasp of the
gospel and their ability to understand the heart and soul of Jesus. Will they
miss flannelgraphs? Maybe.
Only time will tell I guess.
You know, I’m not sure where this is all
leading. All I know is that my story has taken a new turn. I’ve joined the 90%
of the church around the world that doesn’t have a paid pastor or a building,
but instead, meets in homes, under trees and yes, on
I’ll keep you posted,
Spencer
Spencer has also written a book, Making
Sense of Church, which is now shipping. Get your limited edition, signed copy
sent to you today, and help support theOOZE. FIND
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