To both my relief, and dismay, I have discovered that there is indeed a pattern. My relief is the result of having detected a pattern, but my dismay is the result of discovering that this pattern is pretty complex.

To demonstrate, I am going to use the following (fictional) scenario as an example:

1. Someone calls me a “dummy”.

2. I react by feeling hurt, sad, angry, and confused.

3. My hurt feelings give rise to one or more of the following responses: I snap back with an insult of my own, I wander off feeling sorry for myself and trying to figure out why that person doesn’t like me, I begin to wonder if that person is going to try and turn others against me. . .and so on.

Notice that my responses (which take up the bulk of my time and energy) are not directly the result of being called dumb, but are instead in response to my hurt feelings. My responses are only secondarily connected to the situation: The time and energy that I invest in my responsive actions is primarily connected to my emotional reaction, not the incident itself.

This is a hard pattern to challenge and change, so lately I have been just trying to pay attention to this process.  I’m trying to catch myself between my emotional reactions and my continued response. I’d like to think that eventually I can get enough distance between the emotion and my response so as to figure out whether I am making an appropriate investment.

I’ll keep trying, anyway.

A few weeks ago I read this post by Kathy Escobar. I found the post disturbing, and needed to take some time and reflect on both my reaction to it and what I truly wanted to say about it.

Kathy is the co-pastor of The Refuge. I don’t know much about this church, but I get the idea that they minister to a lot of “the least of these“: Folks who are  “high need”. From what she has described in her post, it sounds like the “high need” people may outnumber the “normals” at The Refuge.

Because of this skewed demographic, Kathy gets a lot of pats on the back (and probably the head) for her good work, but not so much in the way of practical support (i.e. people who are willing to become part of The Refuge’s community). Mind you, there are plenty of folks who are willing to send folks to The Refuge: They just don’t want to join them there.

When Kathy has asked folks why they don’t join the fellowship of The Refuge, she gets answers like these:

““we just want to be around less broken people”

“i don’t have the issues these people have”

“we just don’t feel comfortable” ”

I have alluded to my discomfort with the poor in previous posts. So when I read this post, I felt rather, um. . .challenged? I don’t live anywhere near The Refuge, so participating isn’t an option for me, but I still felt this need to justify why I wouldn’t participate if I was a local.

To my chagrin, my responses were identical to those listed by Kathy. In fact, I began feeling a bit helpless, thinking that if I were to become involved in a community such as Kathy’s, I’d probably implode with so many demands on my time, so many broken people wanting to be my friend, so many things and people that I’d have to “fix”. It was just too much, and I shrugged and said “Sorry God, I just couldn’t do all that.”

It was then that I heard the still, small voice say:  “Who asked you to?”

Stunned, I had to sit back and think. I realized that what was making me so uncomfortable about participating in a community like Kathy’s had less to do with what would like be expected of me by the church community, and more of what I was expecting of myself.

The arrogance of my thinking and the largeness of my ego actually got me to laugh harder at myself than I have for a very long time: Here I was thinking that if I were to join such a church, I would be expected to meet needs, solve problems, and make friends with needy people. Never mind that:

1. I have a fair number of needs myself right now, and not a lot of resources (personal, emotional, spiritual, or material) to share with others.

2. While I might think of myself as SuperLainie, the fact is that neither I, nor anyone else, can “solve” other people’s problems.

3. These “needy people” just might have their own friends. And maybe they wouldn’t like me all that much anyway.

In other words, I was willing to withhold my presence from a community where I likely would have been welcomed and loved, all because I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to live up to my own (not the church’s, not the pastors’, not God’s) expectations about what I “needed to do for them”.

(Kind of silly, eh?)

While I was reading Kathy’s post, I got the sense that the only expectation that she had of others was a willingness to be present: For her, for the church leadership, and for the church community. Yet I had to admit that, if I were local to The Refuge, I would have been reluctant to offer that simple thing because of my “whole-r than thou” attitude.

Of course, I am not everybody, and others may have different reasons for not participating in The Refuge (or churches like it. But I’d encourage those who have the same “uncomfortable” reaction to consider why they feel so squeamish. Is it because they are truly afraid of not getting their own needs met? Or are they laboring under a heavy burden of unreasonable self-expectation?

And if the later is true, are they willing to surrender that burden for a lighter one?

(Am I?)

]]> http://www.lainiepetersen.com/2008/10/12/who-asked-you-to-the-arrogance-of-self-expectation/feed/ 0 http://www.lainiepetersen.com/2008/09/05/porning-jesus-getting-off-on-delusions-of-edge/ http://www.lainiepetersen.com/2008/09/05/porning-jesus-getting-off-on-delusions-of-edge/#comments Fri, 05 Sep 2008 15:39:19 +0000 admin http://www.lainiepetersen.com/?p=282

So I was twittering and happened upon this blog post by Paul Mayers. The post puts forth the premise that many of the books out there on “being church” are pornographic:  They titalate, they excite, they tempt, they fulfill fantasies and they may even provide some release. But ultimately, when we put down the book, are we truly satisfied?

As Paul says:

“I guess I’m just tired of the flood of book, blogs, podcasts, commentators who with voyeur like pleasure lift up the skirts to show me how wrong church is.  How broken church is.  How institutional church is. How hypocritical church is.  How abusive, myopic, out of touch, conservative, liberal, self serving, fragmented, divisive church is.  How really it is not what Jesus ever intended to be and quite frankly why he if he showed up he wouldn’t be darkening the door of those kinda places.”

“Those kinda places.”

You mean those corner suburban churches with buildings and budgets and programs and paid clergy?

Well that’s what I thought when I read this post. How boring. How vanilla.

I then let my mind wander a bit. I even fantasized about a vanilla church. The church is filled with women in pressed skirts and blouses, bustling to prepare some coffee and sandwiches for a visit from Jesus. I see the men in their khaki shorts and Polo shirts, neatly trimming the hedges to make the church presentable for Jesus.  The pastors are wearing their best suits.

(Oh ho, hum!)

But then the fantasy “got away from me”. This is how it went:

Jesus comes to the church.

And he darkens their doorway.

He shakes the pastors’ hands.

He admires the shrubbery.

He gratefully accepts some coffee.

(Wait a minute, why isn’t he turning over tables? Why isn’t he spitting these folks out of his mouth?)

Instead he accepts their service, their hospitality. He is kind to the bustling group,  saying to a woman who is fretting that the coffee isn’t hot enough:  “You are worried about so many things, aren’t you?”, as he pats her on the shoulder.

He inquires after the senior pastor’s well-being, noting that the pastor is burdened with many things, but that the pastor should feel free to come to him with his burdens, and he (Jesus) will give that pastor rest.

(Then I snapped out of it.)

(Boy, that was weird.)

Does it make us angry to think of Jesus behaving this way? The idea that Jesus might desire intimacy and union with those who “just don’t get it”? Why doesn’t Jesus realize how vanilla these folks are? Maybe he just doesn’t know what he’s missing.

Maybe Jesus never read our porn.

. . .or What’s the Point of Transparency if you Have To Lie Anyway?

Seems that a lot of folks like to talk about transparency. A lot. We also add a whole bunch of stuff about “accountability”, and run various workshops and sell books on how to achieve both in our lives and relationships. Which is all well and good until. . .

. . . we actually engage in a behavior or are involved in a situation that we are supposed to be transparent about.

This is where the trouble(s) start, because, as we all know, transparency means vulnerability. When we make ourselves vulnerable, there are those who will take advantage of that vulnerability to either do us harm or to benefit themselves in some way. Sometimes they will do both.   Then, in addition to our personal struggle, we have to deal with the fallout of our transparency, which in some cases can actually be worse than the initial “issue” that we were transparent about.

While I believe in transparency (and I am going to explore it in some upcoming posts), I also think that it has become a buzzword with little real meaning. While it sounds virtuous, also brings with it some real problems which, if not considered along with the decision to “be transparent”, can have devastating effects on ourselves and others.

Here are a few of the problems with being transparent:

1. We run the risk of feeding rumors, gossip, and innuendo:

Unfortunately, even the most carefully worded explanation, confession, story, or report can and will be misunderstood by some people.  As the information spreads via word-of-mouth, the truth can get more distorted until our transparency is twisted into lies.

2. Being completely transparent is not always wise or even ethical:

There are certain situations in which being transparent, at least for the time being, just isn’t possible. For example, someone might be involved in a legal proceeding of which they have been told to NOT reveal details to others (particularly online/in print).

There are also situations in which being transparent might adversely affect or embarrass someone else. Honorable people will often endure suspicion and scrutiny in order to not expose the failings of someone else.

3. Being transparent can mean jeopardizing one’s ministry, financial support, job, and/or friendships:

In some segments of the church, admitting to a failing may be applauded, but it will also lose you your  job and friendships.  Some churches will, for example, remove someone from leadership if they are having family or marital difficulties, offering no provision for the financial needs of that person or their family. In some cases, these ex-leaders will also find that their friends have disappeared along with their source of income.

It ends up becoming a Catch-22: A person trying to serve the church is supposed to take transparency and accountability seriously, but if they make themselves transparent and accountable, even about things that are largely out of their control, they can lose their ministry anyway.

4. We make ourselves vulnerable to emotional abuse:

When people are hurting, they don’t need people who neither know nor care about them making judgments, assumptions, and accusations against them. While it is easy to say that we shouldn’t care about what others say about us, the truth is that most of us can’t shake off personal attacks. Being transparent when times are tough can, in some cases, actually slow our healing.

5. Transparency, particularly online and/or in the media, is often done in sound bytes:

Most “situations” that people get themselves into don’t arise in a vacuum: People don’t always behave badly, because they are malicious or indifferent. There is almost always a fairly significant history, along with mitigating factors,  behind the “story”, and this is poorly communicated in sound byte transparency. Thus people may become aware of a situation, but have no knowledge as to how that situation came about. Judgment is often much easier than understanding.

For Tomorrow:  Five Considerations for Responsible Transparency

I should note that my post was made in response to Shades of Gray and a Washington Post article, both of which offered critical perspectives on short-term mission trips to third-world countries. I was agreeing with their criticisms, but I perhaps should have better clarified my own position.

There is a place for short-term mission work, but I think that these opportunities should be a response to the actual needs of communities, not a business in and of themselves. I am concerned that there is a “marketing-to-the-missionaries” aspect to these programs: Yes, some services/labor may be given to a community, but if the primary emphasis is put on the experience of the mission team (rather than meeting the needs of a community), this is a problem. I don’t question that many people who participate in these programs find them humbling and a real opportunity for growth, but if they aren’t meeting the needs of those who they are supposed to serve, they are being cheated out of fulfilling their desire to truly be of service.

Secondly, these trips may not be a cost effective way of getting work accomplished, and, in some cases, they may be responsible for driving down wages of local workers. Obviously this is not always going to be the case: In a disaster, such as a flood or an earthquake, people are desperately needed to rebuild infrastructure and stabilize the area. Well-organized short-term mission teams and individual volunteers are absolutely crucial to these efforts. In addition, there are many churches, aid agencies, and social service programs that have well-organized short-term mission and volunteer programs that do serve critical, and well-defined, community needs.

Thirdly, many aid agencies working in underprivileged communities (both domestically and overseas) desperately need both cash and specialist labor. If a community has few medical professionals or engineers, it makes sense to sponsor a medical or engineering team to that area. If there is a shortage of housing in that community, it makes sense to send cash to an agency and let them hire local workers to do the building. Just because a community is poor does not mean that it completely lacks human resources: It may well be that sending cash is far better stewardship than sending a team of unskilled workers.

The lack of cultural sensitivity displayed in some of these programs is problematic. Granted, problems of cultural sensitivity and disruption are inevitable, but I think that efforts ought to be made to minimize them.

In our desire to “do good” we should remember that we don’t get to define what “doing good” is. Neither do churches, parachurch ministries, or even aid agencies. Instead, we need to take the time to listen to those whom we seek to serve so that they can tell us what they need.

We might be surprised.

Or we might not.

But the point is that we need to listen.

(Please note: An addendum/clarification to this post is available here.)

About ten years ago, my mom was a youth group leader at her church. The church was located in a very affluent community, and the kids in the group were very privileged indeed. The youth leaders decided that the kids needed to learn about the “less fortunate” and asked them if they would like to cook and serve a meal at an inner-city soup kitchen.

The kids were less than delighted at the prospect.

Finally, after a fair amount of cajoling, nagging (and probably tears on my mother’s part), the group decided to play along. They were serving a meal at the soup kitchen when a fight broke out between two of the diners. Things escalated when one of the combatants ran into the kitchen to find a knife. (The youth group girls huddled in a corner, crying hysterically, while all this commotion was taking place.)

After the day’s disastrous events, my mom asked my understandably-traumatized sister (who was in the youth group, and is now a very socially-conscious and kind-hearted adult) if she had learned anything that day. My sister nodded and said:

“I learned that I don’t like poor people.”

This story came to mind when I read a recent post by Pastor Pat Spelling over at Shades of Gray. She posted on well-intended “short term missions”, including a provocative article from the Washington Post entitled “Churches Retool Mission Trips“. The points that both Pastor Spelling and the Post article are good ones:

1. Short-term mission trips are often poorly conceived and executed by those organizing the trips. Youth groups are sent to “help” a community with no real understanding of that community’s needs or culture: In some cases the “help” offered is simply redundant (such as multiple groups painting and repainting a church over the course of the summer), but in other cases it is actually harmful to the community (i.e. putting local laborers out of work).

2. These trips are not cost effective: Participants are usually required to “raise funds” from church members, family and to cover their expenses, which can easy run from $1000-$3000. Thus a ten person youth group (plus chaperones) could easily spend $12 ,000-$30,000 to build a house or a hospital that, in the economy of many third-world countries, might only cost $2000-$10,000 if local labor was employed.

3. Most disturbing of all, however, is the attitude among many that even if such trips aren’t particularly cost-effective (or even necessary to those being “served”) they are justified because, after all, middle -class teenagers need to “learn” about their privilege and about the “less fortunate”. (Apparently the “less fortunate” are to endure these assaults upon their communities and local economies so that privileged youths can get an education. In other words, the poor get to be used as object lessons so that the privileged can engage in a course of self-improvement.)

Um, I don’t think so.

When it comes to serious, systemic poverty (and not just in the third world), “short-term” anything is pointless. Poverty, true poverty, is extremely complex, and people don’t “get it” just by going out and building a house or serving a meal at a homeless shelter. At best, kids on these trips are going to come back with “an appreciation of what they have” (but no real understanding of why they have it or how they got it or why other folks don’t have it), at worst, with attitudes like my sister’s after her visit to the soup kitchen.

If young people truly want to address poverty and its ills, they need to understand that going on an expensive working vacation is not the answer. Ironically, they would do best to take advantage of their privilege and the benefits that it affords them: They could use their social networks to raise cash, not for mission trips, but to send directly to long-standing aid agencies in third world countries. They could go to university to become doctors and nurses and engineers and agriculturalists and then visit a third world country to teach, train, solve problems, and generally do the sorts of specialist work that is actually needed. They could also work to transform social and foreign policy in their own countries or house and befriend students from third-world countries who are trying to bring new knowledge and skills back home.

But none of the above strategies sound as good as “My Johnny just went on a mission trip to help those poor people in South America!”. I just wonder what the “less fortunate” being “missioned” have to say to their friends after each group leaves for home.

]]> http://www.lainiepetersen.com/2008/08/01/mission-mess-ups/feed/ 2 http://www.lainiepetersen.com/2008/04/16/preaching-or-practice-april-synchroblog/ http://www.lainiepetersen.com/2008/04/16/preaching-or-practice-april-synchroblog/#comments Thu, 17 Apr 2008 01:02:02 +0000 admin http://www.lainiepetersen.com/?p=44

In my last post, I mentioned Jon Trott’s analysis of the recent controversy about remarks made by Barack Obama‘s pastor. This situation interests me because it aptly demonstrates the tendency to identify a church with its preaching, rather than the other aspects of its ministry (which includes significant social action).

In fact, the amount of time spent preaching or listening to preaching is (or ought to be) but a fraction of any church’s activity. The fellowship of all believers and the forming of disciples (who are charged with social action), not the preaching of a few, is what makes a church. Yet it is the preaching that receives the most attention.

Perhaps it is just easier to focus on one personality (i.e. the pastor/preacher) than the “faceless” mission of a church. But I can’t help but wonder if churches just aren’t being as effective as they might be in demonstrating social action. If a church’s “rep” is based on its preaching, not its practice of living out the gospel, something is wrong.

Other Synchrobloggers below:

• Phil Wyman at Square No More – Salem: No Place for Hating Witches
• Mike Bursell at Mike’s Musings
• Bryan Riley at at Charis Shalom
• Steve Hayes writes about Khanya: Christianity and social justice
• Reba Baskett at In Reba’s World
• Prof Carlos Z. with Ramblings from a Sociologist
• Cobus van Wyngaard at My Contemplations: David Bosch, Public Theology, Social Justice
• Cindy Harvey at Tracking the Edge
• Alan Knox at The Assembling of the Church
• Matthew Stone at Matt Stone Journeys in Between
• John Smulo at JohnSmulo.com
• Sonja Andrews at Calacirian
• Lainie Petersen at Headspace
• KW Leslie: Shine: not let it shine
• Stephanie Moulton at Faith and the Environment Collide
• Julie Clawson at One Hand Clapping
• Steve Hollinghurst at On Earth as in Heaven
• Sam Norton at Elizaphanian: Tesco is a Big Red Herring

© Igor Terekhov | Dreamstime.com

I often share the bus with a man who (I believe) is autistic. Unfortunately for those of us who must ride with him, he is a truly unpleasant person. He yells, he hurls racist insults, he fusses at people if they are sitting in “his seat”, and if he gets really upset he tends to throw things .

Public transportation is like that. It exists to take people where they need to be, but it doesn’t guarantee that they are going to enjoy the trip. Because it is open to all (and it is very difficult to get someone banned from public transportation, particularly in a large city such as Chicago), not all the people who use the transit system are the sorts of folks that we would normally want to associate with. Some riders are rude, insane, smelly, dirty, aggressive, inconsiderate, overly-talkative, loud, drunk, high . . . “the list,” as folks say, “could go on and on.”

I suppose the city could “clean house” and set really strict rules that would eliminate the troublemakers. Then those of us who are sensitive to strong odors would never again get sick from someone who reeks of perfume or who fails to bathe three days in a row. People of color could avoid racist insults. Studious types could bury their nose in a book, undisturbed by riders loudly chatting into cell phones, drunkenly singing, or begging for spare change. Nobody would have to shrink in fear when a mentally ill person acts out aggressively, nor would they have to dodge a talkative seatmate.

But then again, if all these rules were enforced, precious few people would be able to take the bus. In fact, many of the people least likely to be able to own a car (or even drive one) would no longer have access to mass transit. They’d have to walk everywhere in the cold/heat/rain/snow, and if they couldn’t get somewhere on foot, they’d be stuck.

Because of this, everyone accepts that public buses are not safe spaces. For anyone. If you take the bus, you are going to be insulted. You are going to be offended. You are going to be sickened by bad smells. You are going to have to see and hear things that you would rather not see and hear. You won’t always be able to get your work done. You won’t even always be able to get a seat.

(But you will get to where you need to go. So will everyone else on the bus.)

Churches, like buses, are not safe spaces. We can try and make them such: We can worry about offending others (outsiders or insiders) and institute processes to avoid this. We can try to accommodate “everyone” who walks through our doors (until we find out that we have managed to dis-accommodate someone else in the process). We can seek to protect ourselves and others from behavior that is sinful and wrong and hurtful and bewildering.

(And, of course, we will fail.)

Why? Well, like the public bus, the church (and indeed, the Kingdom of God) is open to everyone (though not all will choose to enter). Not just the great and the good, either. In fact, many of those who enter the church are there because they had run out of options. The church may be a less pleasant place for their presence, but do we really want to leave them out in the cold?

(In fact, we ourselves are likely part of the problem: Do we want to be left out in the cold too?)

Instead of processes to reduce friction, offense, and displeasure, perhaps we need to take a different approach: Perhaps we need to give up on the idea of church as a safe space, a shelter, a haven. Instead, maybe we need to learn to accept the discomfort and unpleasantness as part of what it is to be human and what it is to be church. Instead of blunting edges and rounding corners, perhaps we can investigate different ways of being present with people as they experience (and cause?) offense, discomfort, and pain, rather than fruitlessly trying to rid the church of its human, sinful elements.

(After all, we are all just trying to get to the same place. Aren’t we?)

Back in October, I blogged on some resources for those who are interested in incorporating meals into their church activities/ministry outreaches. I have recently found an outstanding cookbook that would be a great asset to any ministry that needs inexpensive and easy recipes for a crowd.

Elaine Robinson, a pastor’s wife, compiled this cookbook from her own recipes as well as the recipes of her friends from around the country. The recipes are clearly written, and many are specifically proportioned for groups of 10-25, making doubling recipes a lot less risky.

The recipes are first organized according to the type of event the recipe is best suited for, and then the type of dish (i.e. main dishes, soups, salads, desserts, punches, etc). This is a great feature for those who are new to cooking for events/crowds. In addition, the recipes are pretty sturdy: They aren’t going to suffer much from being frozen, reheated, or sitting out for awhile. Newbie cooks, as well as those more experienced in the culinary arts, can use this book to plan meals with confidence.

Like most children, I learned the rules of etiquette in stages. My parents began with the basics: Don’t make faces, don’t bite, say “please”, and never, ever refer to your private parts in public. After these niceties were mastered, the more specialized nuances were taught: Table manners, forms of address. But most importantly, I learned the Golden Rule of middle-class white suburbia: Never, ever, ever discuss money.

I learned that while money was a very good thing to have (and that one ought to spend much of one’s life in the pursuit of it), it was bad form to ask someone what his/her possessions cost, to inquire about another’s bank balance, or to reveal one’s salary. (In fact, our family’s business had a policy of immediate termination for anyone who discussed their compensation with a colleague.).

As I got older, I realized that the middle class issues with money were even more complex than my parent’s hard-and-fast rules. I learned that people were reluctant to lend money to others, not because they couldn’t afford to extend the loan (or even absorb the non-repayment of same) but because people were uncomfortable with asking for their money back. I also learned that even robust organizations/groups could and would fall apart over money issues (particularly if someone, but not everyone, was getting compensated for their time and effort). Mind you, nobody ever discussed the money issues in these groups, but tempers would rise and members would withdraw as a result of these unspoken resentments.

So here we are in the missional/emergent movements, both enclaves of middle-class ideology (even if we want to think that we are edgy and hip), and everyone is ticked off about money. Some people think that they should be paid for the ministry work that they do. Other people think that they shouldn’t have to pay anyone for the ministry work that they do. So some people get burnt out because they are working a “secular” job while engaging in ministry, while others have to rely on an understanding (but not-so-secretly annoyed) spouse to bring in the bulk of the family income. Meanwhile, the folks who resist financially supporting those that minister get to boast about how cutting edge it is not to have a paid ministry in their “movement”.

And because we are all following the example that our parents set for us, people are often reluctant to actually say anything about this conflict.

So I am going to disobey my parents and throw my upbringing back in their faces. I am going to talk about money. I invite discussion on these four observations about money matters in the missional/emergent movements:

1. Our discomfort with money matters has been shaped by the values of middle-class USA suburbia. These are not Christian values and they are a hindrance to our mission. We need to start having frank discussions about finances, particularly in the area of compensation for those in ministry (even, and especially, those in non-traditional ministries).
2. We are ambivalent about financially compensating those in ministry because we don’t really value ministry work as much as we do the work that produces tangible, “secular” goods and services. (I recently spoke to a hard-working but utterly impoverished missional leader about his dire circumstances. I expressed my frustration and noted that nobody would be debating whether he should be paid if he was a plumber, doctor, or accountant. He glumly replied that they wouldn’t be debating compensation even if he were working as a porn star.)
3. The ambivalence about paying missional leaders has less to do with a desire for “good stewardship” or “obeying scripture” than it does with resentment against those folks who “get to have all the fun” by being in ministry. (Which hearkens back to point #2: We tend to see ministry as being “fun”, instead of seeing it as genuine labor.)
4. The missional/emergent movement has enough money to support our leaders, our members, and our mission. We just haven’t yet figured out how to manage/distribute our finances so that needs get met, and we won’t, until we are willing to start bringing finances into the “conversation”.

What do you think?

Check out the rest of the synchroblog by visiting the links below:

The Check That Controls at Igneous Quill
Pushing The Camel: Why there might be more rich people in Heaven than in your local Church at Fernando’s desk
Trusting God – A New Perspective at Eternal Echoes
Silver and Gold Have We – Oops! Subversive Influence
Lord, Won’t You Buy Me a Mercedes Benz at Hello Said Jenelle
Walking With the Camels at Calacirian
Zaque at Johnny Beloved
Greed and Bitterness: Why Nobody’s Got it Right About Money and The Church at Phil Wyman’s Square No More
Kirk Bartha at Theocity
Money and the Church: A Fulltime Story at The Pursuit
But I Gave at Church at The Assembling of the Church
Moving Out of Jesus Neighborhood at Be the Revolution
Money and the Church: why the big fuss? at Mike’s Musings
Coffee Hour Morality at One Hand Clapping
Bling Bling in the Holy of Holies at In Reba’s World
Magazinial Outreach at Decompressing Faith
Money’s too tight to mention at Out of the Cocoon
Bullshit at The Agent B Files
The Bourgeois Elephant in the Missional/Emergent Living Room at Headspace
When the Church Gives at Payneful Memories
Who, or What, Do You Worship at at Charis Shalom
Tithe Scmithe at Discombobula
The Church and Money at Khanya
Greed at Hollow Again