rodgerotero.com

How To Survive Church Planting (For At Least Five Years)

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 17:58:00 +0000

This past Sunday was a big deal. At least to me: our church, the one my wife/co-pastor and I started from scratch, turned five years old. Half a decade! And while we're not breaking any records or showing up in any who's-who-amongst-church-planters publications (if those even exist), we're doing quite well--thank you very much. We're happy. We're healthy. Our church may be small but it's growing, and it's rather vibrant by all accounts. I'm sure there's more than a little bias here, but Greenleaf is seriously the best kept secret in town.

I don't claim to be any kind of expert, yet as I reflect back on these last five years, I can confidently say there is one thing I have learned to do well: survive. And not to just barely hang on, but to survive well, still with a smile on my face, hope on my lips, and dreams in my heart. I recognize, with a heavy dose of humility, that our survival really is indebted to the grace of God. Roughly one third of church plants, I hear, don't make it this far. I'm not saying we're any better than the third that don't last, but, for whatever it's worth, here are few things I've learned about surviving church planting:

1. Keep taking risks. We church planters were created to dare the impossible. If you're a church planter, you know what I mean. This just might be the most ludicrous thing one could choose to do with one's life--but there's nothing else we'd rather be doing. Risk is in our blood. The moment you start maintaining rather than risking is the moment you start to shrivel up inside.

2. Learn to say "no." Although you may want to, you can't do everything. Sure, sometimes folks in your church can be very demanding. And sometimes folks in the community who hear about you and your church come to you with some great opportunities. But most of the time you're going to have to say "no" to the hardest person of all: yourself. Your own great plans, your own grand visions, your own drive. Learn to say "no" to yourself, to your own propensity for busyness. Say "yes" to rest, and then, in that sill and quite place, you will be free to fully say "yes" to God.

3. Build camaraderie with other local church planters. Competition will kill you. Slowly. From the inside out. Like a cancer. So make friends with other folks in your town, those going after the very same thing (the very same people) that you are. Talk with them like human beings. Ask about their families, their hobbies, their favorite foods. Marginalize the church talk. If competition is a cancer, relationship is chock full of antioxidants.

4. Don't entertain exit strategies. If you're looking around for a possible way out, you will find it. The grass will inevitably look greener elsewhere. "If they were homesick for the old country, they could have gone back any time they wanted" (Hebrews 11:12, MSG). The temptation for the good ol' days can be strong; the temptation for something new is even more irresistible.

5. Pray as if your life depends on it. Because it does. And by "your life" I mean "your life." Not your church. Not your ministry. Your soul. Your family. Your happiness. Your life. If your life falls apart, if you're family suffers inordinately, if your own soul collapses like an abandoned mine, then nothing else worth digging for. Take prayer walks. Take prayer drives. Stay up late. Wake up early. Reject busyness. If you're healthy, that's half the battle (if not much, much more) to building a healthy, long-lasting church.

This Is Going To Be Legen -- wait for it... -- dary!

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 16:46:00 +0000

The other day I was reading a certain rather well-known story from the Bible. It's about how this guy Jacob ended up marrying the love of his life, Rachel. It's your classic "boy-meets-girl" story. Here's the gist of it:

Jacob sees Rachel across the sheep pasture.
Time stands still as he falls instantly in love.
Jacob asks her father for her hand in marriage.
Her father gives consent, in exchange for 7 years of manual labor.
Jacob agrees.
After 7 years, they are married.
Except it wasn't really Rachel--it was her sister, Leah.
Jacob wakes up the next morning and realizes he's been duped.
"Sorry," says the dad. "How about 7 more years for the real Rachel?"
Jacob agrees.
After 7 more years, they are married.
They live happily ever after.

Ok, so maybe it's not your classic "boy-meets-girl" story. In fact, it's the anti love story. Worst Hollywood screenplay ever. Downright depressing--and not in a sappy "The Notebook" kind of way either. Just ridiculously depressing.

When I came to the end, I had just one question swirling in my brain: "Why? Seriously! Why on earth would Jacob put up with all that?"

There's only one reason I can come up with: He loved Rachel that much. That simple. There was apparently nothing else he'd rather be doing with his life. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my wife. I love her more than I love anyone in the world. And I'd like to say that I'd do anything in the world for her. But 7 years of manual labor for my father-in-law who's only going to screw me over by tricking me into marrying her sister and then squeeze 7 more years of manual labor out of me? I love my father- and sister-in-law too, thankfully, but...I don't know about all that. That's a lot of waiting.

But maybe it's true that the best things really are worth waiting for. Tell that to most of us Americans though, and we'll laugh in your face. We'll never pay to see that movie, let alone live it out. We know what we want and when we want it--now.

Thankfully, my personal love story is actually your classic "boy-meets-girl" story. Nothing at all like what Jacob had to endure to get his dream girl. My church planting story, however, feels a lot more like Jacob: Deep passion. Lots of manual labor. Lots of unmet expectations. Your occasional "Ha ha! Gotcha!" plot twist. Lots of sucking it up and just pressing on. But, like Jacob pursuing Rachel, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing with my life. Even if it takes twice as long as I thought.

Take heart, church planters. This is indeed going to be legendary. You just might have to wait for it.

The Patron Saint Of Church Planters (Well, At Least This One)

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 20:04:00 +0000

As a church planter, I've read a lot of books. Most of them are of the how-to variety. Most of them are fine. Some good meat, some bones. They make me think and reconsider things. And that's good and necessary. But those aren't the ones that keep me going when the going gets tough--which is much of the time. What keeps me going is stories. Stories of those who have gone before me and struggled and fought for the kingdom and came out on the other side--whether dead or alive, literally or figuratively. Just any kind of story. Such as, for example, my most recent read, Jesus Killed My Church, by Randy Bohlender. Good stuff. Crazy stories. And--spoilers!--although his church plant doesn't ultimately "survive" (hence the title), the hand of God throughout is so evident, and the hope so potent, that it's encouraging. Anyone thinking of planting, joining a plant, sending out a plant, or supporting a plant should read it. It's real life. It's beautiful, even if sometimes painfully so.

But today I find myself pondering one of the greats: St. Patrick. You may think of him more in terms of "missionary" rather than "church planter," but whatever. To-MAY-to, to-MAH-to. He did the seemingly impossible task that all planters pledge their lives to: establishing thriving communities of Jesus-followers in really dark places. Places where following-Jesus is far from the norm, laughable even. Places where the odds are clearly stacked against the abilities of one person. But that's where "missionary" is a good term--because if it's truly about God's mission, then it's success is dependent on his abilities. And last I checked, those were pretty off-the-charts-awesome.

So off went Patrick, into the dangerous unknown, probably leaving lots of well-meaning folks behind him shaking their heads in pity at his "foolishness." Much like Frodo heading off with the ring of power to try to destroy it in the very heart of enemy territory where it was originally forged. "I will take the ring to Mordor. Though...I do not know the way." So for the sheer guts it took to say "yes" to the call of Jesus, I tip my hat to you, Patrick.

His very famous prayer, "The Breastplate of St. Patrick," also strikes me as a really great one for planters, particularly the most memorable stanza:

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Because I often feel quite alone.
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Because if you don't go before me, I may head in a wrong direction; and to also prevent me from heading backwards when the temptation to return arises.
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Because nothing strengthens me for the battle like Jesus fighting next to me; and to remind me that the real battle he fights is for my love towards him.
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Because the nature of mission work is to get wounded and tired.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Because I fall; because I need to see you when I lift up my eyes in prayer.
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Because the stillness can be maddening, and safety elusive.
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Because I am not always so lovable--it must be you in me that they love most.
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
Because although the nature of what I do can seem rather self-promoting, the necessary humility is often absent; when people speak of me, may they speak of you, Jesus.

Amen.

Church Planting With The Stars

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sat, 10 Mar 2012 19:57:00 +0000

Hello. My name is Rodger, and I'm a DWTS-oholic. I was hooked a few years back when Christy Yamaguchi was on. Now I'm celebrating two years sober. But lately I've been tempted to fall back off the proverbial wagon. Have you seen the new cast? One word: Erkel. It’s almost more than a 90's kid can take. I was raised on TGIF. But seriously, I'm not ashamed to admit that I kinda like that show. All pomp, hype, and reality TV drama aside, the dancing is fun to watch, and the judges can be rather hysterical.

(Ok, stop judging me for a moment so you can get my point...)

A few weeks ago I was back stage, right before the Sunday service having one of my periodic "God, what on earth are we doing?" moments (everyone in ministry has those, especially church planters), when I felt like God just said quite plainly, "You're in your head too much."

Now, that only really makes much sense if you, too, are an avid DWTS viewer. "You're in your head too much" is one of the judges favorite little critique lines after watching a performance. It's usually reserved for those stars who they see to have a lot of potential, who are getting quite good at the technical aspects of the dance, but who, because they are thinking too intently about the choreography, inadvertently lose the soul of the dance. What the judges want to see is the results of all the grueling behind-the-scenes work to come out more naturally, as if the dancer truly feels the dance, as if it's simply flowing out of their souls and moving their bodies.

In order to not be in their heads, the dancers must learn to let go, stop over-thinking stuff, be in the moment, trust their training, and truly enjoy the performance, come what may. This strikes me as good advice for anyone in ministry of any kind:

Let go.
Stop over-thinking stuff.
Be in the moment.
Trust your training.
Enjoy your church, come what may.

Forced dancing makes for bad dancing; forced ministry makes for bad ministry. (Although, both might make for some good laughs via reality programming.)

Six Weeks Of Newness

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 11:49:00 +0000

In high school I got a guitar. And a CD player. I was one of those kids up his bedroom for hours on end listening to songs, trying to figure them out by ear. I was honing my skills, sure, and developing a love and passion for music in the deepest places of my heart. But more than all that, I was developing a love for something new.

It wasn't just that I got a kick out of music. It wasn't just entertainment. I loved hearing a song that I'd never heard before, let the instruments and voices and words bounce around in my ears, touch my soul. And learning to play wasn't just about accomplishment or becoming the best. It was about entering in, taking part in the music, participating in the creative process (even if just in a "one-man-bedroom-cover-band" sort of way).

I loved newness. And I still do.

I loved finding my part to play. And I still do.

And while this is true of my budding years as a musician, I've come to find that it's even more true, perhaps, of life in general. We all need newness. We get old and stale. The fervor we once had doesn't last forever. The old formulas don't work. We're constantly changing beings--and not always for the best--which leaves us always in need of something new. Something new to stir our soul. Not that we throw out the old--no one builds a music collection like that!--but we do add to it. And that multiplication gives life depth and richness.

But not only do we all long to experience something new, but we want to play our part. Even if it feels like we're just echoing someone else a little bit. We want a role to play. We want to get our hands dirty. I believe that each one of us--in spite of popular media consumption stats--really are not content with merely observing exciting, meaningful experiences from the outside. We want to be in the thick of it.

So today we begin Leap Of Faith. Six weeks of coming to God with big prayers. Six weeks of asking him to give us big hearts towards others. Six weeks of seeking miracles. Six weeks of newness. Six weeks of playing our part in the epic symphony of God and humanity.

We all want the view from the stage. Join us.

The #1 Reason That Churches Grow (Or Don't) That No One Ever Talks About

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 18:46:00 +0000

Let me throw out a couple of rhetorical questions:

Is it possible for a total bonehead of a pastor to plant a growing, vibrant, sustainable church?
Is it possible for a intelligent and talented pastor to plant a church that seems to be going nowhere in a big hurry?

There are a myriad of reasons that churches grow. Booming population. Good preaching. Engaging music. Big signs. Fervent prayer. Advertising. Invitation after invitation. Welcoming atmosphere. Etc. There are also many reasons churches do not grow. But just for the moment, for the sake of argument, let's avoid the inclination to assume that the opposites of all the aforementioned items are the culprits. My suspicion is that there's often more at play in church growth that is often talked about. At least in the daylight.

We, being the creatures of culture that we are, tend to approach the issue of church growth from a very Western, Enlightenment based perspective. Science has done (and continues to do) many wonderful things, but it's also caused a great deal of harm--not least within the Church. Because of science and technology we have light switches, microwaves, and internet radio. And we know that if you mix baking soda and vinegar you get a mini volcano. Every time. And if you don't get the same results, you did something wrong.

When it comes to church growth, we think along the exact same lines: If you don't see X amount of growth in Y amount of time then you did something wrong. Because if you did it right, you would have seen it.

Now, there is indeed some amount of reputable science behind church growth, but what if the reality is much more than scientific? What if church growth has less to do with us than we tend to think? What if church growth--or lack thereof--has much more to do with (gasp!) God himself. We've all heard the church growth mantra: "Healthy things grow." So, if you and your church are healthy, growth will happen. And vice versa. But what's seldom asked (at least in my experience) is: How big, and how fast? Should all church plants reach 200+ by year 2? Is that God's church planting strategy? Where did we get that idea? Certainly, that kind of thing happens. And quite frequently--God be praised. But it's not the norm.

The theology I'm holding in the back of my head in all of this is in regards to God's sovereignty. That his plans and means are often surprising to us, often running against the grain of our conventional wisdom. Could it be that church A grew to 500 people within a few years simply because God wanted it to? Could it be that church B is at 50 people after the same amount of time simply because God wanted it to?

Just once I want to go to a conference, or read a book or an interview or something in which a wildly successful church planter is asked how they did it, only to reply, "Beats me! I'm just as amazed as you are!" But that kind of response doesn't land conference invitations and book deals. We Americans like our strategies and step-by-step plans for success. Imagine someone putting on a conference or starting a coaching network with the mantra: "We'll teach you a lot of really great helpful things, but in the end it might not work." Or, "We'll help you grow your church as best we can, but in the end God might have a different idea." Not a very marketable pitch. God's sovereignty sells books on dealing with grief, or on history, or on trusting him with your finances--but not church growth. (I could be missing something huge out there...please fill me in if I am!)

Don't get me wrong, there's a lot of wisdom out there. Get as much as you can. But our faith is ultimately in God and not in man...right?

Back to the questions I began with. They're meant to be rhetorical. The answer, I have to believe, in both cases is a resounding YES. If God is sovereign, then YES. And this is good news. At least for me. If this is true then maybe my small church isn't a direct reflection of how much I must suck. Or, if it turns out that I am a total bonehead, maybe there's still some hope that we might yet turn this town upside down for Jesus.

Last Sunday I Made A Deal With The Devil

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 11:26:00 +0000

Yes. You read that title right. Me. The pastor. It actually happened right after the service. Here’s what went down...

A handful of us at Greenleaf who tend to be somewhat spiritually sensitive have had this nagging sense lately whenever we get together: God is up to something. The best way I can describe is like a balloon being blown up. Little by little. For all I know it's going to burst--in a mind-blowingly good way. A breakthrough. A breakthrough of God towards us, and of us towards God.

This has been true in several aspects of church. One situations in particular that I at least have been sensing this and seeing really great things beginning to happen is during our prayer ministry times on Sunday. There has been a bit of a resurgence of words of prophecy given lately that really hit people right where they are. They respond, ask for prayer, and lives have been changed. All of this marked by a tangibly strong sense of God's presence, of him drawing near to people and calling them closer to himself. Good times!

But then came last Sunday. It was quite different. Now, I'm not one to think that there's a demon behind every cough. But I do believe in demons. I'm not one to assume that there are evil, dark forces at work behind everyone's bad decisions. But I do believe that is often the case, whether we realize it or not. During prayer ministry time it felt as though people who desperately needed to receive prayer were being held back. By black, knobby hands intent on keeping them back from the good things God wanted to continue doing in them via prayer.

And I was pissed. Not at our people. Not at all! It wasn't them. Something else was going on. There was some serious push-back going on in the spiritual realm. Something--someone--was not at all happy with the good momentum we'd been feeling. I was pissed at the devil. So here's how my deal with the him went down:

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be? You really wanna jack with my people like that? You wanna hold them back from worshiping Jesus? You wanna hold them captive in their seats so they can't ask for prayer when they need it? Alright. It is so on! If you're gonna try and block me from praying for folks in church, then I'm taking it to the streets. If you won't let me pray for my own, then I'm coming after yours!"

Like Wyatt Earp. Except Heaven's coming with me.

OK, that was more of me just cutting loose on him. As I said, I was pissed. But here was the deal--that had really begun the night before, (which is a whole other story), but that I was now deadly serious about pulling off: For every single person that I get a chance to pray for in a church setting, I'm going to pray for one person outside of church. Anyone. For any reason. I was just going to start offering. Last Sunday I got to pray for one person. So as I got up on Monday morning I set my sights on praying for one person on the street that week. I did. And that one person turned in to a solid dozen. I just couldn't stop at one.

I prayed for an elderly Indian woman who simply said, with tears in her eyes, "I have many problems." I prayed that a young lady would get the financial aid she needs to go back to school. I prayed that another young lady would get the job she just applied for. I prayed for a young Indian woman that she and her husband's love "would last a long time," as she put it. I even prayed for a young college guy that he would be able to see as many Phish concerts as possible this summer (along with some other quick blessings I threw in that he didn't really ask for but that might be better for his soul--not that jam bands are bad for you). I prayed for healing for a woman's back injury. I prayed that God would bless a family's non-profit farm.

Oh yeah. It's so on...

A Reason To Believe

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 00:35:00 +0000

Today is the traditional day of the Feast of Saint Thomas. You know, the one who has come to acquire the glowing nickname "Doubting Thomas." As the story goes, he refused to believe that Jesus had risen from the dead, and would not consent to belief unless, as the Gospel of John puts it, "I see the nail holes in his hands, put my finger in the nail holes, and stick my hand in his side, I won't believe it" (John 20:25, The Message). To which Jesus replies, upon returning for another post-resurrection visit to his disciples, "Here I am, Thomas. Go for it!" (John 20:27, my paraphrase). Thomas then proclaims his belief, apparently without going through with the whole probe-the-gaping-wound stipulation. Probably for the best. Jesus then closes the conversation with the following famous line: "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet believed." It is from point that many well-meaning Jesus-followers have put a moratorium on genuine doubt, interpreting Jesus' final statement as a rebuke to Thomas--one which, clearly, we should all aspire to avoid.

Most of the tellings of this story that I've heard also carry the implication that the other disciples were standing faith-filled on the sidelines of this little interchange. As if Jesus glanced at them and silently said with a little wink of his eye, "Good job, boys. Way to have faith. I know you believe. Now, Thomas...tisk, tisk." And thus we have Doubting Thomas.

But as I see it, Thomas gets a bad rap. Reading the entire story from John, all of the discples got to see Jesus on his appearance--except for Thomas, who was out running errands or visiting a neighbor or something. As Matthew tells it, "some doubted" (16:17). Not just Thomas. Mark seems to paint an even bleaker picture of the unbelief of the rest of the disciples. First, Mary Magdalene tells them he is risen, but "they would not believe it" (16:11). Then after Jesus appeared to two of them while they were walking down the road, "they went back and told the rest, but they did not believe them" (16:13). Not just Thomas. Luke tells the story with an even more unfavorable light on the disciples. After appearing to the two on the road, as in Mark, he appeared to the disciples, but they "were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit" (24:37). That is to say, they doubted that it was really Jesus come back from the dead. Hardly models of unflinching faith. Jesus, seeing they were having a bit of a hard time wrapping their eyes and brains around all of this, and being the compassionate guy that he was and is, showed them his hands and feet as proof.

We have to ask at this point: Is this the appearance for which Thomas was absent? When he demanded to see Jesus' hands, was it simply because the others had already been offered (by Jesus himself, no less) to base their belief on the very same thing? Maybe Thomas wasn't being a weak-faithed little pansy-disciple. Maybe he just wanted the same amazing encounter with Jesus that his companions had while he was out grocery shopping or whatever he was doing. Can we genuinely fault him for this? If there's one thing that true of the Gospel writers depiction of the disciples, Thomas included, it's this: they were normal dudes. They made plenty of mistakes. Some of them a little disturbing, honestly. Buffoonery was common in their early days. They were not, at least at first, the glowing giants of faith they are now venerated as being. At first they were as weak-faithed as you and I have ever been. In fact, in Luke, it seems as though Jesus showing the disciples his nail-scarred hands wasn't even enough--he had to go on to eat a fish! After all, maybe a spirit-Jesus could have visible scars, but only a living physical Jesus could eat lunch.

"Don't be a Doubting Thomas," I've heard it said. As if Thomas' entire role on being included in the Bible was to illustrate to us how not to follow Jesus. As if being honest with our doubts is among the cardinal sins. Thomas gets a bad rap; doubt gets a bad rap. Doubt is not a dirty word. If Thomas hadn't insisted so strongly in seeing his Lord's scars, would Jesus have made that second appearance with the apparent intent to show them to him? Maybe; maybe not. If we do not face our doubts head-on, in the light of day, in the company of our fellow Jesus-followers, will he reveal himself to us in ways we so desperately need? Maybe; maybe not.

Only by passing through doubt can one arrive at significant faith. As messy and unimpressive as that may appear, whatever heinous nick-names we may acquire. But we can take comfort in knowing that in our doubts we are surrounded by good company--Thomas, and all the other disciples as well, and, if we're blessed, a few living, breathing doubters alongside us whom we can call "friends." And those are good travelling companions to have if one is to arrive at faith. For my money, I'd rather be in the company of a bunch of Doubting Thomases than hyper-pious know-it-alls.

Year Of Tha Boomerang

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 02:02:00 +0000

Advent. Although I grew up in church, that word was not even in my vocabulary until only a couple of years ago. And not until last year did it truly begin to influence the shape of my holiday season. It was a monumental shift, both for me personally as well as pastorally. A shift which began in a void. An empty space in my mind heart that was supposed to be filled with Scriptures, reflections, questions, images, and prayers that were to be crafted into sermons. But I was coming up dry. I had nothing. Fumbling in the dark. A preacher unsure of what to say. Oh, snap.

Thankfully, there was light--I have a wife who was raised Episcopalian. She, with her long history and deep appreciation for liturgy was able to escort me gently into the strange, new world of the Lectionary. In case you're about as uninformed as I was then, I'll sum up like this: The Lectionary is a three-year-long collection of Scriptures, grouped and arranged more or less thematically throughout the various seasons of the year. It's a guide, a Shirpa leading us up the craggy edifices of Scripture. I found it to be such a helpful, guide, in fact, that I tested it out for the first quarter of 2011. That first quarter turned into the entire year. A wonderful year.

For me, the Lectionary became another door through which to enter the strangely wonderful world of the Bible. It felt like being a kid again, another Dukes of Hazard phase when I had to get in and out of my parents' green Plymouth Duster through the window. Sometimes the old doors get.....well...old. The window is so much more fun.

So now it's Advent again. The cycle continues; a new year begins. Back around like a boomerang. Whereas at this time twelve months ago I was uncertain of just what reading and preaching through the Lectionary would feel like, this year I'm excited. The edifices are still craggy, but the guide has become such a good friend.

Now down to earth. Here are a few, briefly stated lessons I've learned from preaching through the Lectionary for a year. A few reasons why I've loved it. If you're a Bible reader, maybe this will entice you to try this door out for a while. If you're a preacher, may I recommend this to you for the inevitable day when you, too, feel empty.

1. It forces me to deal squarely with Scriptures I might otherwise avoid. Let's be honest--the Bible has a tendency to make us uncomfortable, for one reason or another. Yet there is great reward in allowing ourselves to feel uncomfortable, to accept that challenge, to wade through murky, frightful waters. "Safety," I'm finding, is actually a value that often points us away from good interactions with God and Scripture.

2. It makes me preach on topics that I might otherwise not even consider.  Again, let's be honest--there are certain topics that we'd all rather not hear a preacher talk about. ("Don't tell me how to manage my money!") And as a preacher I can attest that the feeling is often even more dreadful for the preachers themselves. ("I don't want to sound like a salesman just trying to get your money!") But listen we must, and preach we must. The Lectionary steers me away from "pet topics," which are usually, as the term implies, quite domesticated.

3. It connects Scriptures with other often unexpected Scriptures.  Each week consists of a Psalm, an OT reading, a NT reading, and a Gospel reading--all carefully selected for shared connections and themes that might not be obvious at first. Consider this a form of built-in "cross-referencing." For me, it's just plain fun placing the texts on top of one another, holding them up to the light, and seeing what shines through.

4. It takes the guess-work out of Scripture selection.  My heritage in Scripture selection is this: Listen to God regarding what he wants to say to the people, then choose a text that says that. ("I want to preach on having faith...how on earth am I going to narrow down that myriad of texts?!") That's a gross oversimplification, but you get the idea. Now I'm doing the reverse: Read the texts and ask God what he's saying through them. ("I'm reading James1:5-8...looks like I'm preaching on increasing faith!") This all leads quite naturally to the first three I just mentioned, and paves the way for the last one...

5. It gives me more creative freedom.  The time and energy that I've often spent simply deciding which of the myriad of texts to choose from, I now spend on the art and craft of communication. The insights, difficult questions, the stories, the metaphors, the visuals--all of the things a preacher employs to make the Scriptures come alive. It's true that specific boundaries often create more powerful expressions. And this, honestly, might be the biggest gift the Lectionary has given me, a gift I'm not about to give up any time soon.

Symphony No. 5

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 13:59:00 +0000

Perhaps the richest lesson I came away with from my formal training as a pastor was simple: How to read the Bible. Don't get me wrong, having been a Christian for quite some time I had already read most, if not all, of the Bible, and much of it multiple times. But always in tiny portions. When I finally sat down to read entire books in one sitting (partly because my professors encouraged me to, partly because deadlines demanded I do so), I found myself entering a world that I had never quite visited before. I had seen post cards, and perhaps even spent a long weekend there, but had never settled down. I never lived there. I finally realized--to my horror and amazement--that what I had in fact been reading for most of my life was verses, not the Bible. I had been taught (quite usefully to a degree) to analyze verses and short passages, to ask fine-pointed questions, to dig deep into the details. But I had not been taught to read it as it had been written.

"Valley Of Dry Bones"
from the Illustrated Bible by Barry Moser

One of my most vivid memories in this sea change period was of reading the entire book of Ezekiel in one sitting. It took several hours. It was, to say the least, a surreal experience. My imagination was inundated with fantastic imagery, rich scenery, frightening oracles, and Doctor Who-esque visions. And all one on top of the other. As fast-paced as any Hollywood blockbuster, and as mind-boggling as the best indie flick. It was beautiful. It was frightening. It was awe-inspiring.

I loved it.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't retain most of it in an academic, Western sense of the word. I can't give you a chapter-by-chapter synopsis off the top of my head. But I understood a little better what it looks like to be a prophet. I understood something of the richness of the way God communicates to humanity. I understood that this world--God's world, both seen and unseen--is a truly incredible environment in which to exist.

If you've never read the Bible this way--the long way--do it. Now. (Although, I might not recommend beginning with Ezekiel...maybe Mark, or John would be more accessible). It will change the way you think about the Bible. It will change the way you think about life and God and yourself. But don't just take my word for it...

"If this the book God meant us to have by the Spirt, then it's important that we actually take that seriously instead of just snipping it down to make it digestible, like sombody with a huge banquet in front of them who insists on going to the back room and just making a peanut butter sandwich instead." (N.T. Wright)

Where Are You Going?

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 16:03:00 +0000

Church planters ask lots of questions. Being in this kind of role in church, arguably more than many others, necessitates it. By nature of what we're doing--heading full tilt into the foggy unknown--we have to. A church plant is by definition more fragile and given to flux than an established church. Not much opportunity to get comfortable and complacent. Thankfully. This unknown is part of the thrill and adventure. Most church planters aren't doing it because they know exactly what they're doing, and those that I have heard say things at least close to that eventually seem to end up flailing in the pool with the rest of us. But it's fun. At least, it's my kind of fun.

And by questions, I mean that we usually have rather practical, yet big-picture, life-or-death kinds of questions:
How do I let folks in our community know we're here?
What sort of outreach events should we engage in?
How should I spend my time?
What should our service look like?
What kind of facility should we meet in?
Who else could/should help pull this off?
How much money should be budgeted for each of those things?
Where's this money going to come from?
Oh yeah, and speaking of money--How exactly is my family going to be fed?

And on and on.

Over the past few years of church planting, I've learned one bummer-of-an-insight about myself: I am not a great strategist. Don't get me wrong, I'm no fool. Most of the time. I'm at least competent. I can make pretty good decisions and plans. But I'm not great at it. You're not likely to ever hear my name mentioned alongside certain other acclaimed church planting gurus (or see me advertising on your Facebook or Google side bar). Most of my great ideas have seemed to come to very little. And I'm OK with that.

But that's not to say our church plant is failing. Far from it! The good news is that there is a goldmine of wisdom to to be tapped into. Unless you've just headed out from under your rock to start a church (which is far from advisable), you already know at least a handful of individuals who have already done this fairly well. There's also a ready supply of books, seminars, conferences, and even (some) blogs that can answer a lot of your questions.

I've come to realize, however that asking too many questions can actually have negative results. After a while of bouncing thoughts off of other seasoned planters and pastors, all their various (and often somewhat contradictory) bits of advice begin to just swirl around my head. Like one of those playground carousels with the big kid on the block pushing as fast as he can while the rest of us just try to hang on and not lose our PB&J. And the more books and blogs I read and whose strategies I attempt to implement, the more I start to feel more like a shrewd business man and less like a contemplative pastor (to borrow a phrase from Eugene Peterson). And my goal is ultimately to be the latter.

So what's a guy to do?

I've learning that there's one fundamental question that I have to have answered upon which all others depend: Lord, where are you going? In my experience, heading off to chase any other answer to any other question is just going to end up with shaky results if it's not built upon a solid answer to this question. This is how Jesus operated: "The Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing" (John 5:19).

I'm also learning that the only person who can find out the answer to that question is me. (As well as my co-pastor wife, I should mention). No one else can seek out answer that on my behalf. To assume that God is going to answer that question the same way for me and my church as he did for [insert uber-successful churchman's name here], is, well, insane. I've heard it said that a good definition of insanity is "Doing the same thing repeatedly expecting different results." I think that it could also go the other way around: "Doing the same thing someone else did expecting the same results." If you're not a church leadership person, then you don't get this, but the temptation to try to take others answers as your own is huge. But there are far too many variables involved (most notably the sovereignty of a creative God) to make it work 100% the same. And he is indeed creative. Maybe he just gets enjoyment out of doings things differently with each planter and pastor, with each congregation. Maybe the severity of the state of human affairs demands creative and varied approaches.

Or maybe the bottom-line reason that this question is so central is simply because it requires me to get close to God. It requires me to close the books, turn off my computer, and silently listen. It's one more incentive for the face time that he longs to have with me. The answer to Where are you going? only comes by focused and frequent times of prayer. Just me and him--alone. It only comes via relating, not strategizing. It only comes by tuning out all the other shouting voices in order to hear the whisper of the Spirit.

Zee Deveel

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 19:03:00 +0000

I had a great question posed to me last Sunday after my message: "So, do you really believe in the Devil?" It caught me slightly off guard. I would have expected other questions to be raised based on my message. But for this young lady, who is very much new to all of this right now, the Devil was the thing I talked about that just didn't fit into her paradigm of reality.

Understandably so.

As we discussed, our caricatured depictions of him have trained us to think of him as a fictional cartoon character. Our conversation went on about whether or not the Devil (and God, for that matter) is an actual entity, a "person," and not just a personified force. How he plays into evil we see in the world. What the scope of his power and influence actually is, etc.

In hindsight, this has really stuck with me this week in the form of a personal question: Do I really believe in the Devil? Of course I do! Don't I? In theory, yes. Biblically, yes. But practically? Well, it's confession time: not always. I've never wanted to become one of those hyper-spiritual Christians who talks constantly about spiritual warfare, looking for a demon under every rock and behind every sneeze. However at times, I'm perhaps not as quick as I should be to assume his veiled and dastardly involvement in things that are clearly not in line with what I know of the character of God.

After all, this is a war. Maybe I need to wake up and smell the napalm.

What's more, does my church really believe in the Devil? Practically and not just doctrinally? While he's not deserving of a disproportionate measure of our attention, we must be continually "sober-minded" and "watchful" as Peter warns us since our "adversary the Devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour" (1 Peter 5:8).

Which brings us back full circle to the comment I made in my sermon--something along the lines of "The Devil hates church plants and small churches." Churches of any size, really. We are the someone he wants to devour.

Here's is why I believe this question really, really matters:

If we believe wholeheartedly in the Kingdom of God, then we must believe in the counterfeit Kingdom of Darkness. If we place everything we believe and do (as a Vineyard) within this context, then we must believe and act within the equal reality that God's Kingdom is actively opposed by the Devil's. If I believe as much as I say I do that our church plant is one little strategic part in the advancement of God's Kingdom, then I must be continually aware of the opposition.

As any military professional will tell you better than I can: Lose sight of your mission or your enemy for even a moment and disaster is certain. Sure, that might sound a little mellow dramatic, but I dont' want to be the one to test that theory. (Feel free to do so and give me feedback if you dare.) I'm gonna trust that Peter (and countless others with him) knew exactly what he was talking about.

Based on my experience in the context of small churches, there are a few ways in which I think the Devil is particularly strategic and, too often, effective:

1. He breeds a communal inferiority complex. Like being the littlest kid always picked last for kick ball in elementary school, the church feels like it just sucks and will never be very good. Eventually, it comes to believe that's actually true and gives up playing altogether.
2. He sows seeds of jealousy. It's far too easy to look around and see all the great things other churches are doing and wish ours was doing the same--only better. There's a reason that covetousness is listed in the 10 Commandments: it will kill you from the inside out.
3. He talks us into trying to do too much. This one is sort of the practical out-workings of the first two. While there is no end to the good things our church could be doing, it is impossible that they are all the best things that we should be doing. In doing too many things, we do nothing very well.
4. He tempts the church to grow inward. After all, if we think we're not gonna grow, we might as well just guard what little we do have, right? In keeping with some of the war-language floating around this post, this is what is often referred to as "the bunker mentality." A bunker will keep you and your friends relatively safe for a while, but then it just starts to get boring and stinky.
5. He makes the pastors and leaders second-guess their calling and gifting. I'm 100% positive that pastors of large churches wrestle with the same thing, but they also have an infrastructure to help support the church and carry on the ministry even when they're having dark days. Small churches depend much more on the health and ministry of the pastor; even if the pastor has strong support from outside relationships, there is still daily work to be done that largely rests on his or her shoulders--and that work is dang hard to do when you're just not sure you're any good at all.

Consider these as you pray for and serve your church.

Give It Away

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 12:28:00 +0000

If there's a character trait that all church planters share it's this: we're over-achievers.

We're able to to a lot of things (at least moderately well), willing to do them (because we believe so strongly in our calling), and the general lack of staff and volunteers demands that we do so. Starting something from scratch is no small task. Our dirty little secret is that we actually get some amount of enjoyment out of all this. Some might call us workaholics...we call it passionate. TomAYto, tomAHto.

That's not all bad. If no one was wired like this, no one would have a church to go to. Seriously. That's just historical hindsight. Someone had to start the one you go to--and the one that person went to before. But being an over-achiever certainly has its downside as well, just like being an over-eater, an over-exagerator, an over-spender, or an over-anythinger.

In Exodus 18, Moses is hard at work being a shepherd--not of animals any longer, but of the nomadic nation he's leading. He's taking care of them on an individual basis, hearing their concerns and difficulties, settling disputes, etc. A noble endeavor, sure. He loves his people; he loves caring for them. But the task is well beyond the scope of his abilities. So, wisely, his father-in-law Jethro calls him on it: "What is this that you are doing for the people? Why do you sit alone, and all the people stand around you from morning till evening? ...What you are doing is not good. You and the people will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone." The choice was pretty black and white: stop being an over-achieving workaholic, or else stop being a sane person. (I'm willing to bet a large sum of money that Zipporah was somehow behind all of this...)

As with Moses, so with you and me. Despite all that our Super Man / Wonder Woman culture tells us, none of us can do it--whatever "it" may be--alone. Most of us are more like the Mystery Men, and that's a good thing. Which helps underscore one of the most fundamental rules of leadership and ministry: give it away. There are a number of good and Biblical and practical reasons, to do so. Most notably, it's a survival tactic.

I don't know about you, but more than anything I want to survive.

Top 10 Things I'll Be Bummed About Missing If Jesus Comes Back Tomorrow (And That I'll Be Jazzed About If He Doesn't)

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sat, 21 May 2011 01:09:00 +0000

10. The silence following the death of all the 13-year cicadas

All several million of them. As a friend recently said, imagine all of your neighbor's house alarms going off 24/7 for 2 weeks straight. It's kind of cool, but also kind of maddening. I'm really looking forward to the normal living-in-the-woods ambiance. Oddly, this does seem like the kind of plague that should precede the end of the world.

9. Preaching on Sunday

To be honest, this is mostly just because I've put a lot of hard work into it. (As you might guess, I'm not too convinced any of this is actually going to happen, or I wouldn't have bothered preparing, right?) Ironically, the sermon is called "Why Easter Still Matters: It Empowers Us To Face Evil," which is exactly what Jesus is going to do once and for all when he comes back.

8. Reading Love Wins by Rob Bell

I just wanna get in on the action before all the drama dies down and Christians in America find something else to get hysterical about.

7. Homegrown tomatoes

Love 'em. Angela just planted them today. I'm pretty sure they're gonna need more time.

6. Watching the Lord Of The Rings Trilogy one more time

The extended director's cut edition. I just get a hankering to re-watch them at least once a year, and haven't done it yet. By my calendar I've still got almost 7 months left. And yes, this is incredibly nerdy.

5. Strange Negotiations

This new album from David Bazan drops this week. He's one of my favorite song writers ever. If you've never heard him, you need to. Before tomorrow. However, now that I think about it, considering that his last album, Curse Your Branches, was described as "a break-up album with God," maybe this one will actually be one more reason for Jesus to stay on schedule--well, at least on Harold Camping's schedule.

4. Getting to play my mandolin

My birthday was yesterday, and this was my present from my family. Awesome! I've never owned one, so I'm really looking forward to learning. The bummer is that it's waiting for me to pick it up in Georgia next week. (I promise, Lord, the first thing I'll play will be a worship song!)

3. The season finale of Dancing With The Stars

And not just missing it, but spending the rest of eternity not knowing who would have won. Or maybe God in his omniscience can clue us in. (If my vote can count in advance, Lord, I'm rooting for Chelsea).

2. Our cruise next week

Seriously! I've always wanted to do this! By all accounts, the hereafter is gonna be pretty awesome, but there's also not going to be any sea (Rev. 21:1), so this is my one shot at living on a boat for a week. That said, it only seems right to make the offer that to anybody left behind with a fake ID that looks like me, you're welcome to take it. You embark at 12pm on Monday out of Jacksonville. And then the reason for the cruise...

1. Celebrating our 10 year anniversary

The thing I'm most proud about pulling off in all my 33 years on planet earth. Best 10 years yet! We're gonna party like it's 1999--which, ironically, didn't end as apocalyptically as everyone thought.

A Letter To Women | Angela Otero

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Fri, 06 May 2011 18:06:00 +0000

The following is a letter that Angela sent out to the women of Greenleaf. Although it reads less like an essay-ish blog post and more like a personal letter meant to be read by friends (which bears some good precedent, i.e., most of the New Testament), I wanted to share it here. I think it's a pretty darn good read--and not just because she's my wife. Because it's true. Because it has heart. Because it makes me, as a man, want to be a better person. Because women in churches everywhere should have women leaders who speak such truths into their lives.

Women of Greenleaf,

One of the things that I embrace about us here is that all our lives and talents are so very diverse. Some of us are in school. Some of us work from home with our children or in other jobs. Some of us work part or full time outside our homes. Some of us are mothers. Some of us are wives. Some of us are single. Some of us are scholars. Some of us are cooks. Some of us are artists. Some of us are gardeners. Some of us are nature lovers. Some of us are people lovers. Some of us are extroverts. Some of us are introverts. Some of us have fearless people skills. Some of us are more insecure in social situations. Some of us have had amazing women role models. Some of us have not. The list can go on and on and on.

This is our church's strength, but as I pray for and talk with many of you, I am afraid that the enemy uses our diversity here to isolate us. Many of you feel that since there is not another women in Greenleaf who is a lot like you, that Greenleaf is not the place for you or that you can not have friends here. But this is a LIE! The enemy hates you, and he wants you to be isolated and alone. He wants to prevent you from forging meaningful, life-giving friendships.

Women of Greenleaf I call you to rise up! To fight that lie. To push yourself toward deep and lasting friendships that transcend common interests, talents, careers, or held opinions. To choose friendship over loneliness. Support each other especially in our differences. Our diversity is our strength. I challenge you to look at the ways you are different from the other women as the things that you have to BRING to the table. Beautiful, unique callings that God has placed in your lives for you to offer as your gift to this church and to the world!

If you identify with any of this, I'm calling you out of isolation to a sisterhood in Jesus! He is what (or who) we always have in common. This wasn't meant to be a lecture. It's a testament to you that you are all still here--making relationship work even when it's tough for you to find specific similarities or instant connections. I intended to recommend the following website to you, and this all spilled out. I hope that it is an encouragement to you delve deeper into the budding and potential friendships that God has provided for you here. I know most of you ladies pretty well, and you are some of the most amazing women I know! I ache to see you know each other more.

In such a small church, sometimes it can feel lonely to be uniquely who you are, and that's why I'd like to encourage you to visit this website. It's new, and it's a great resource for us as we ask questions about what it means to be a woman and a follower of Jesus in the 21st century in the Vineyard. http://vineyardwomen.org/ Check it out. You may meet ladies there who are more like you and can encourage you in your similarities. But don't forget the ladies here and the unique things that you have to offer us as well.

I love, love, love you women!
Angela

Easter Top 10

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 22:11:00 +0000

This Easter Sunday was a darn good one. Here's a brief summary, in the style of David Letterman. My Easter Top 10:

10. Sermon intro video
Yes, I feel like this it's a bit narcissitic putting something about me on this list, but I have two things to say in my defense: "That's why it's #10," and, "Whatever...if nothing else, at least I entertain myself."

9. Record attendance
Sunday our highest attended service ever! It's not all about numbers, but there's still something exciting and encouraging about people bringing their family and friends to church--and then watching them as they encounter the living God. Plus, it's nice to not feel regret for spending money on extra chairs last week.

8. Original artwork
Greenleaf's vision has always included the arts and music. The recent worship conference we had here in Raleigh has already begun to spawn some creativity in Greenleaf--creativity we didn't even know people had! For the Easter Kids Church lesson, our friend Steve, the closet-artist, created his own interactive scene. It seriously took my breath away when I first saw it. Way to go, Steve!

7. String section
One of the most exciting things in the past year at Greenleaf has been watching our worship team grow. I'm going to go out on a limb here (that is potentially weakened by bragging) and say that we have the best worship team of any small church in a 100 mile radius. And this Sunday was especially something to behold sine we had Steve (the above-mentioned closet artist) on violin, and Honza on cello--an actual string section! They were nothing short of amazing together. As one visitor commented to me after the service, "You don't need a 10 piece band to have great worship!" So true. And beyond their musical abilities, what makes our team so stellar, what really opens up the door for us to enter the presence of God in worship, is their humble hearts of worship. They just do it because they love Jesus, and Jesus loves that.

6. Urban Egg Hunt
Last year it was a bit of experiment--an experiment that went so remarkably well that we just had to do it again! And this time there were well over 100 people who showed up, at least 50 of which were kids. I lost count after that. It's hard to count well when they're scurrying around everywhere. What a super-fun way to show the community God's love! And a huge thanks to all the Greenleafers who made it happen.

5. Pinwheels
Garrett couldn't have cared less about the eggs--he wanted the pinwheels! All of them! It was hilarious watching him go as fast as his little toddler-legs would carry him, pulling them up out of the ground with the fervor most of the other kids were directing towards the eggs. (He didn't think it was so fun whenever we made him share with some pinwheel-less kid.) He had a blast. Who needs candy-filled plastic eggs when you have plastic sticks with colorful spinning things on them? Seriously! Even as I type this he's running around the house with a fist-full.

4. Poop and vomit
Yes, poop and vomit. And not from the aforementioned toddler. And it was right smack in the way of us getting stuff up and running. So it goes when you do church downtown. Well, ok, I'm not really so thankful for the poop and vomit as I am for the superheroes of the day who cleaned them up. I am proud as heck of you all! And thankful that I didn't have to do it.

[No photo. For obvious reasons.]

3. Sun dress
Angela is so adorably beautiful in this dress. *sigh* It also deserves to be mentioned that pretty much everything else in this blog post wouldn't have happened without her. The best wife, mother, and co-pastor a guy could ask for. And we're about to celebrate 10 years of all that awesomeness!

2. Prayer ministry
For me personally, one of the top ways that I gauge whether or not a particular service was a "success" is the prayer ministry. There was some significant stuff happening on Sunday at the end of the service! I love watching people interact with God in deep ways, respond to him as they're overcome by his power and love, and then getting a chance to pray for them. And the icing on that cake is also watching other people in the church do the praying. I love just stepping back and watching as the Holy Spirit blows across a group of needy and broken people, and then watching them emerge filled and whole again. Beautiful.

1. Mission Impossible
I can't tell you any details about this photo. If I did I'd have to kill you. Or maybe I'll tell you the story in person some time. If you ask nicely. All I will say here is that this is going down as one of my top 10 Greenleaf moments ever. I'm going to tell my grandkids about it one day.

The Power Of A Story

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 23:30:00 +0000

Today I sat around the lunch table with a group of friends and just watched admiringly as one of them told a story, with all the animation he could muster, leaving the others in stitches. We all love a good story. Sometimes it seems as though our intellectualism has led us down a path that has lost much affection for narrative. We Westerners prefer abstract concepts, theoretical ponderings, generalized statements of supposed fact, and (in the church) theological musings. Perhaps these all have their place, but perhaps what we need more of in our lives is just some good stories.

One thing always strikes me about the New Testament gospel writers: their low need for personal commentary on the story of Jesus. Most of the time they just tell the story--vividly, compellingly, with quick broad strokes. (If I, at least, were writing a first-hand account of Jesus, I think I'd throw in a lot more of my own thoughts and interpretations. Perhaps that's why some supposed Gospel accounts never "made it.") It's there, don't get me wrong. History--yes, even Biblical history--always comes from some perspective. And that's OK. But what amazes me is about them is that if you simply begin reading, like you would a good short story or novel, the narrator seems to disappear, and you just get sucked into the drama.

C.S. proposed, writing as a literary critic, proposed a test for "good literature": How often does it deserve to be read? Most people only read news paper articles one time--once you get to the end, you're done, and you don't get much satisfaction upon a second reading. (Same with blogs--this one certainly not exempt.) However some great works of literature are read and re-read over the course of one's lifetime. (For me I'm honing in first on works by Tolkien, O'Connor, and the aforementioned Lewis). There seems no end to the depth of character, the tension of plots, beautifully engaging language, and vivid imagery. Even though we might already know the outcome, the journey through a truly good story is the prize.

It is amongst the greatest works if literature that we find the Gospel narratives. Far too often, at least among we evangelicals, we spend far too much time nit-picking individual verses and passages, . And in doing so, (or not doing so, rather), we lose the forest for the trees, as they say. We do not nearly enough time simply reading, either individually or corporately.

So this morning at Greenleaf, to begin Holy Week, that is what we did: we read. From the Triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, to his brutal exit. (I, of course, unlike the Gospel writers, couldn't refrain from at least saying a few words...but mostly just to get us all to the point where we could pray for folks.) We all love a good story. Good literature leaves deep impressions on our souls. The best change us forever. The story of Jesus is among the most powerful I know.

Read it, and re-read it.

Let this Holy Week be steeped in the narrative of Jesus. Let it weave itself into the very fabric of your existence. Let it become the defining story that gives shape to your life.

Grab a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, and let's continue reading...

Creative Publicity

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 13:34:00 +0000

We do lots of flyers for Greenleaf. Especially when we have upcoming events like the Urban Egg Hunt. We like to find creative spots. The best spots are the one's that simply present themselves unexpectedly. Here's one of the best ever: "Smudge," the unofficial and never-to-be-heard-from-again mascot of Greenleaf's Egg Hunt.

Thank, Ryan!

Church Growth And Money

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 15:34:00 +0000

I've been having a number different conversations on church growth lately. Most of these conversations stem from the facts that A) we've been experiencing some steady growth in Greenleaf (both in average attendance as well as people who call our church "home"), but B) we want to see more. Most of these conversations tend to be with people that tend to hold one of two views. The first say, "Growth is a big deal--maybe even the biggest deal," while the second say, "Growth isn't nearly as big of a deal as we think--maybe it's not even a deal at all." Of course, no one I know would state things so blatantly; I'm drawing caricatures for the sake of making a point. And the point is this: maybe there is no point.

Maybe church growth, like money, is neutral.

Two New Testament statements on money are overlapping in my mind. Paul wrote to Timothy, saying, "The love of money is the root of all evil" (1 Timothy 6:10). Jesus said, "No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money" (Matthew 6:24). Here's how these blend together for me: Money is not inherently evil (as is often thought, thanks to common misquoting), but it's when love of money super-cedes love for God that things get evil. Money is not the problem; we are. Money is neutral; our hearts must choose sides. Maybe it's the same with church growth. Maybe it's the place it holds in our hearts that makes it either a useful ally or an evil master.

Funny enough, conversations about money and church growth almost inherently include discussion of numbers, especially when you're talking to people who really love it. It's hard to be really into money and not know exactly how much you have. So it goes with church. When I am in love with church growth, I talk a lot about numbers. The insidious thing about our hearts and the way they attach to such things is that we don't actually have to have a lot of money or church members in order to be in love. A lot of poor people are obsessed with winning the lottery; a lot of pastors of small congregations are scouring the internet at this very moment for the silver bullet system that will grow their church. Both seem like rather unhelpful--and probably unhealthy--activities.

Is money important? Yes.
Is church growth important? Yes.
But even more important is the health of one's soul, which numbers, in whatever context, seem to have a tendency to infect.

So, is it possible to place a high value on church growth, and yet not become obsessed by it? And if so, given the numbers-driven culture we're steeped in, how? If you've figured it out, I'm all ears.

Church Planting 101

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 13:52:00 +0000

Apparently we've done everything wrong.

Success Vs. Sovereignty

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 21:10:00 +0000

Let me get straight to the punch line: "That one church is larger than another does not mean that its leaders are any more gifted or faithful than leaders of smaller churches--it means that God is sovereign." It's not a daily occurrence that I hear God clearly speak to me, but today I definitely heard this. Let me unpack what I think he meant by that statement.

Success

Here's a good definition of success: the favorable or prosperous termination of attempts or endeavors. In layman's terms, "Someone works really hard at doing all the right things and good stuff happens." And however we might try to spiritualize it, or whatever kind of Christian jargon we trade out for certain words, we still mean the same thing. It's very hard for us westerners to take off the goggles of success.

I was a successful teacher because I was professionally trained, worked hard at planning engaging lessons for my students, collaborated well with my colleagues, maintained necessary communication with my parents, and valued each student as an individual, wanting to see each of them achieve to the best of their abilities.

I am a successful pastor because I have been professionally trained, am well-versed in the Scriptures, preach engaging and accessible sermons, pray a lot, spend time with members of my congregation, maintain an active presence for the church in the community, and work hard to empower others' in the church to use the gifts and abilities that God has given them.

Or at least that's what I tell myself.

Because then, when things weren't going so well in my career as an educator, or when church planting and pastoring don't quite seem to be working out the way I had hoped, my first thought is something along the lines of, "OK, where did I screw up?" I pin every success on my sleeve, and chain every failure to my ankle.

I'm beginning--however slowly--to realize that there is something very, very, very, wrong about all this.

Sovereignty
Now let's take a look at sovereignty: supreme and independent power and authority. In layman's terms, "God causes good stuff to happen." And this is the clear, cosmic picture painted by all of Scripture. From beginning to end. "The Lord has made the heavens his throne; from there he rules over everything." This seems to me to stand in stark contrast to the definition of success. God's rule and reign are supreme. The areas of my life in which I have some measure of influence or authority (in family, church, whatever) still fall under his rule and reign. God's rule and reign are independent of all other outside influence--including my own.

I was a successful teacher because God made it so. I am a successful pastor because God made it so.

It's never fundamentally because I did everything right. Now, I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking it, too: Does that just mean that we shouldn't bother doing anything at all then? Not at all. Do what you do; trust God with the results. What it does mean is that, as we go about doing what we do, we need to have the right lenses on through which we see everything and everyone. Which do we trust in more? Which do we truly believe more? Which influences how we feel about our life more? The sovereignty of God card must always trump our success card. Otherwise we will always be losing to the house, whose dealer is a greedy bastard who loves to point out what losers we are.

As a pastor/church planter, this is a matter of life and death. If success is the most important thing to me, I will inevitably end up feeling like a loser. If God's sovereignty is the most important thing to me, I will always end up humbled that I even get a chance to serve in his kingdom at all.

Numbers, Skills, & Strategies

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Thu, 17 Feb 2011 17:15:00 +0000

As a church planter there are three things I've been told, or at least read, a lot in the past few years:

1. Get your church to the next bench-mark size.
2. Play to your strengths.
3. Use some good tried-and-true strategies.

To those I say "Yes." And "No."

Before I go on, let me just say that I believe each of these wholeheartedly: God wants every church to grow (whether or not our bench-marks match his is a different conversation); I am not strongly gifted in every area (only a few at best), so I should just stick with those; other people have come up with and successfully employed some good, practical methods when it comes to church planting and my ideas aren't always so stellar.

So, I again give my enthusiastic "Yes!" Until I start taking things too personally. Then it's, "No." Here's something I read this morning:

The king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength. The war horse is a false hope for strength and by its great might it cannot save. (Psalm 33:16-17)

I don't know about you, but if I were a king in the ancient Near East, or today for that matter, I would definitely want the biggest army. And if I were a warrior I would definitely rather be Achilles than Barney Fife. And if I were rushing off into battle as either, Achilles or Fife, I'd prefer to be the guy on horseback--I've seen enough battle scenes to know that much. And that, I think is precisely the point the psalmist is making here: These are good ideas! They're just not enough. Even if they appear successful, the secret of their success is found elsewhere. Read on:

Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, that he may deliver their soul from death and keep them alive in famine. (Psalm 33:18-19)

Here are three things we church planters should remind ourselves of much more often:

1. Take the time, solitude, and silence to cultivate a reverent fear of God.
2. Hope in his unfailing love for you above all else.
3. Rely on him to cause things in your life and church to go well.

A quick glance at some linguistics: When you read "saved" or "delivered" here, think, "walking away victorious and unscathed." As anyone who's been church planting for more than a week can tell you, our tendency to feel defeated and beat up is strong. But the remedy is not to just "try harder" (the first three outward activities), but to "draw closer" (the second three inward activities). Put down the latest issue of Cutting Edge (assuming you're reading it--which you should be) and go out in the woods to pray.

The inward is what empowers the outward.
In church planting and in life.

What The What?!

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 15:29:00 +0000

This story will forever be a part of Greenleaf-lore: This past Sunday, a few of us showed up a little early to church, excited to debut our newly re-vamped sound system to help support our growing worship team. There was a strong sense of God's presence throughout January, coupled with a general atmosphere of expectancy of what he might be about to do just around the corner. Plus, visitors have been more frequent--and they've actually come back, too, which is even better. We were also anticipating a visionizing (is that a word?) leaders meeting that afternoon. All that's just to say, things have been good at Greenleaf, with all signs pointing towards even better things.

Then we opened our storage closet to this:

Nope. It's not poop. But it is sludge. Greasy, black, thick, sticky, stinky sludge. All over everything. This picture does not even begin to do it justice. Apparently on Friday a sink drain pipe had burst in the ceiling directly above our closet--more specifically, right above our sound gear. Woofers filled with putrid water do not a pleasant sound produce. That is, if any electrical currents would even have been carried to them, as the tote with all the cables, mics, etc. was filled with 2-3 inches of the aforementioned funk. Nice.

Anyways, I won't dwell on the bad. (And it was bad. Probably the single worst event in Greenleaf thus far.) Looking back, I am simply amazed at the sense of calm and grace that pervaded the place that morning, even as we all shook our heads in disbelief, unsure of where to even begin. Me and a few guys went dumpster-diving in the alley for cardboard boxes to lay on the floors so we would't track sludge around. We layered the entrance to the kids room with beer boxes. The Aguilars headed out for coffee and football-decorated donuts from Krispy Kreme. Dottie and the worship team did a literal acoustic set--no amplification what-so-ever. Jamie still played the djembe, even though it was caked in grime and smelled rank (and probably wasn't vary sanitary). And Greenleaf worshiped like crazy! The Spirit came. His presence was thick. I preached the message with all my heart. And then for prayer ministry at the end some truly powerful and significant things happened in people's hearts. Some prophetic words were shared that hit some folks exactly where they were. It was, all things considered, a great morning. One of my favorite services ever, I think.

After church, with joyous smiles on their faces and latex gloves on their hands, Greenleaf unpacked our stinky closet into a truck and drove it over to our house. We did our leaders meeting. It was great. Although I'm still processing through it, I can say that God did some good clarity to things Ang and I have been hearing him say, as well as some new stuff to chew on. After that a few wonderful friends stuck around for a few more hours, put on new gloves, unloaded the nasty truck onto our driveway and cleaned all our church gear. (In the end we had to throw away about $2k worth of stuff. Which reminds me: Call the insurance company...). My favorite quote of the afternoon goes to Brendan: "You know, this just seems normal. Like it's just what we do all the time." And yes, it did seem like that. It was even, oddly, a little bit fun.

The evening ended with us all at a nearby Mexican restaurant, still shaking our heads, reflecting back on the leaders meeting we just had, and loving the fact that while the TVs were all on the Super Bowl, the giant flat screen was on a soccer game.

I love my church. I love my friends. I love my God.

The Happiest Church On The Block

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Sat, 29 Jan 2011 21:30:00 +0000

I'm reading a book called The Happiest Toddler on the Block by Harvey Karp, MD. It's the follow-up to The Happiest Baby on the Block, which did wonders for us as we learned how to parent Garrett during his early months. I highly recommend it for new parents, even if it's not your first. Since we're now getting ready for the toddler years, I'm beefing up my arsenal of parenting wisdom.

In chapter 2, the author discusses parent's four big struggles, which I found to bear an uncanny resemblance to the experience of church planters' struggles. Here they are, with a few musings of my own...

1. We don't get enough help and guidance.
If you're a parent, you've probably had more people than you can take offer you parenting advice--unsolicited. And it's annoying. However, you've also probably had Q&A sessions with trusted friends on the subject. Then you've taken the best of what they had to share, the most applicable to you and your child, tweaked things as needed, and eventually ended up with an approach that worked for you. It works the same way with church. Seek out those you respect and trust, and who have a successful (whatever that means to you) ministry experience. Then take their best advice and adapt it to you, your family, your schedule, your resources, your values and priorities, and your church. There will never be a one-size-fits-all approach, nor a silver bullet that will cause your church to grow and be healthy, but as Proverbs says, "Without counsel plans fail, but with many advisors they succeed" (15:22). Go with your own ideas as well--yes!--but never stop listening to others.

2. Daily battles can make us feel like failures.
Here's the dirty truth about church planting: It's 90% failure and 10% success. And at least 8% of that 10% is pure accident, leaving 2% that you can point to as something good you pulled off. (I don't know if those numbers are scientifically verifiable...that's just how it feels most of the time!) Two words of encouragement: First, from my own somewhat limited experience I think that the majority of our perceived failures are simply that--perceived. Our minds and hearts love to play tricks on us. And sometimes it might even be (gasp!) the devil. (I have it on a good source that he's kind of pissed about what we're doing. So...) But sometimes we really do mess up. So second, as Dr. Karp writes, "We all mess up sometimes, but failing every now and then doesn't make us failures; it's a normal part of parenting [church planting] and can actually speed us along the path to success. So relax and learn to look at your mistakes with a sense of humor" (p.27). So laugh at the utter ridiculousness of what it is that God has called you to do, and just get on with it.

[One note before I continue with comments: I'm intentionally approaching these last two as pertaining to our church as a whole--not individual members. A church of any size or age takes on its own identity, personality, and quirks, that far supersede any individual members.]

3. Our toddler's [church's] actions can "push our buttons."
If a church plant is like a toddler in any one way, this is it: It will not always do what you want it to do. And like a toddler, it's not trying to tick you off, it's just immature, undeveloped in some key ways. The point is not behavior management--we're not interested in being manipulative control freaks (leave that to the fringe cults, please). What we want to learn, as pastors, is how to handle our buttons in an emotionally healthy way. Karp points out an interesting thing about the particular buttons our kids push that bother us the most: They dig up demons from our past. We all have issues. And church planting will certainly bring up every single wound, scar, piece of baggage, etc. So here's a simple word of advice: Continually let the Lord work in your heart. Focus on that before you focus on church stuff; make that your #1 spiritual priority. Your ever-increasing Christ-likeness, more than anything else, will help your church to be healthier.

4. Our temperaments may clash with our children's [church's].
From a child's perspective we all know it's true that we're not exactly like our parents. We're individuals! And serious problems often arise when a parent tries to force their child into their own proverbial shoes. In church it's often much the same: The planter/pastor is extroverted, and the church (as a whole, remember) is more introverted (and I don't mean self-centered). Or the planter/pastor is big on personal space, but the church loves to call 24-7. Or the planter/pastor loves big outreach events, but the church prefers small one-on-one service and evangelism. Or the pastor prefers intimate meals with others, but the church enjoys eating big, shared meals. And on and on. Again, much like in parenting, we pastors must allow our churches to develop their own personalities. Isn't that the point and the beauty of it all anyways? I love watching my son grow up; I love watching my church grow up. It becomes less and less about me, and for that, I am thankful.

First Lines

noreply@blogger.com (Rodger Otero) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 16:27:00 +0000

For the beginning of the sermon on Sunday, I read a few first lines from fiction that I really love. (If you'd like to know where I was headed with this, go here.) First lines are important in a book, like first impressions when you meet another person. First lines give the reader a foretaste of what's to come. Good ones make you want to continue reading; the best get stuck in your memory forever. If any of these pique your curiosity, I highly recommend you head to your local library or book store. Here are the ones I read on Sunday, plus a few more that didn't for the sake of time:

The Voyage Of The Dawn Treader

by C.S. Lewis

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.

Into The Wild

by Jon Krakauer

In April 1992, a young man from a well-to-do East Coast family hitchhiked to Alaska and walked alone into the wilderness north of Mt. McKinley. Four months later his decomposed body was found by a party of moose hunters.

Wise Blood

by Flannery O'Connor

Hazel Motes sat at a forward angle on the green plush train seat, looking one minute at the window as if he might want to jump out of it, and the next down the aisle at the other end of the car.

"Good Country People" (from A Good Man Is Hard To Find)

by Flannery O'Connor

Besides the neutral expression that she wore when she was alone, Mrs. Freeman had two others, forward and reverse, that she used for all her human dealings.

"Greenleaf" (from Everything That Rises Must Converge)

by Flannery O'Connor

Mrs. May's bedroom window was low and faced on the east and the bull, silvered in the moonlight, stood under it, his head raised as if he listened—like some patient god come down to woo her—for a stir inside the room.

The Poisonwood Bible

by Barbara Kingsolver

Imagine a ruin so strange it must never have happened.

The Catcher In The Rye

by J.D. Salinger

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

The Hobbit

by J.R.R. Tolkien

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

The Princess Bride

by William Goldman

This is my favorite book in all the world, though I have never read it.