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How is it when you come together?

I was newly ordained, and the opportunity to attend my first national assembly was no small thing. We rented the largest car we could, and piled in as many of our leaders as would reasonably fit, so several of us could go to the convention.

The ten-hour drive fairly flew by, as we eagerly anticipated the delights that lay ahead. And we were not disappointed — as every pastor knows, the hopes and expectations that people bring to the assembly are often the best predictors of what they will discover. We were blessed by inspiring preaching, nourished at the Lord’s Table, encouraged by fellowship with friends and strangers, and strengthened in prayer for the work we would continue back home. And oh yes, business happened to take place too.

Then I became a Presbyterian.

After I answered the Holy Spirit’s call to ministry in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), I was distressed to discover that regional and national assemblies were viewed by some of my colleagues as “necessary evils” at best — but after attending a few, I began to understand why. One might blame those who prepared meeting agendas for setting a table that numbed mind and spirit, and sometimes such charges might have been sustainable. But the problem lay not entirely in the meetings themselves; the clincher that meetings would be deadly was the set of expectations that people brought to them. Some folk came expecting bad things, and got just what they expected. Even when good things happened, those who expected bad things still found the meetings difficult to bear.

Gatherings of the wider church ought foremost to be celebrations of the grace of God shown to all of us in our various places of life and service, rather than primarily an aggregation of committee reports, constitutional interpretations, and deliberative actions. Items of business are like the poor — we have them with us always, and in abundance. Attention to them is not optional. There is a time and place for diaconal service and prophetic declaration, and all the management, regulation, and advocacy they require. But they need to be set in a larger context of building up the Body of Christ to the glory of God for the sake of the world, rather than becoming the core and substance of our gatherings.

 

A missional identity?

Most church leaders readily agree that mid-twentieth-century corporate, top-down, regulatory models of church councils no longer cut ice. While there is certainly disagreement on just how broken these systems are, few dispute that they are in fact in need of retooling at the least, perhaps rebuilding or even replacing.

One word stands out as a banner for this change in our place and time —identity. More specifically, church councils sense a move of the Holy Spirit calling them to embrace a missional identity. They are increasingly asking: How can we be of genuine assistance to mission-driven congregations, rather than seeking to define and direct the mission of the church as we did in the era of corporate management? In moving toward a more “missional” identity, the gatherings of regional and national bodies change significantly. Worship becomes a higher priority. Hearing Scripture plays a more significant role in the assembly. Sacraments are celebrated more regularly and robustly; prayer becomes more than a pro forma pause in business proceedings. Institutional maintenance becomes less important than missional empowerment of persons and congregations that burn with a zeal for the gospel. Time on the meeting docket shifts from “faithfulness” issues (who’s loyal to the franchise, who’s rocking the boat, who’s behaving badly?) to “fruitfulness” issues (where is the gospel being proclaimed and lived most fully, and how can we encourage such ministry among all our congregations?). A permission-giving culture marked by celebration arises in place of a regulative culture marked primarily by caution.

Not all presbyteries, synods, and general assemblies embrace transformation equally; even with our standard designs for our “governing bodies,” wide disparities exist between those ready like Abraham to set out knowing not where they are going, and those who balk at trying anything more than cosmetic changes on familiar patterns. How might we account for the varying levels at which missional transformation “takes” in our various regional and national bodies?

 

Lex orandi lex vivendi

What we do when we gather shapes and reflects who we are as a body. To alter an ancient formula, lex orandi lex vivendi — our form of worship and our form of life are mutually dependent. Our identity as the Spirit-empowered apostolic bearers of God’s good news in Jesus Christ is rarely strengthened by promulgating new mission statements or by systemic reorganization. This identity is far better formed and nurtured by re-emphasizing ancient apostolic practices in our gatherings. Acts 2:42 sets the core paradigm for the gathering of Jesus Christ’s mission team: They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of the bread and the prayers. To the extent that this apostolic pattern shapes our assemblies, an apostolic identity is more likely to emerge among us.

Prayer: Most of our council gatherings, even in corporate management mode, begin and end with prayer. Many denominations stipulate so in their constitutions. But is prayer at the heart and soul of our meetings?

Fellowship: How high is apostolic fellowship — really, communion — on our priority list? Do we structure our life together in councils in such a way that table fellowship lies at the heart of our life together, or is mealtime something we race through as quickly as possible in order to get to the real occasion for our gathering?

Teaching: The apostles’ teaching may appear in a sermon during a brief worship service, but it often has scant reference to the work we do in the remainder of the meeting. In many cases, sermons at such meetings are shaped more by a cause for which the preacher is advocating, than by mining the apostolic witness of Holy Scripture in order to encourage and equip us for the apostolic tasks to which we are being called in our life together.

Breaking bread: What place do we give to the Lord’s Supper in our regional and national gatherings? What cures for our “warring madness” might be effected if we restored Font and Table to the center of our assemblies? At the Font we remember that each of us is equally dependent on God’s grace to wash away our sin, that even as God in Christ has graciously forgiven us, so we must forgive one another. As we come to the Table, Jesus says, we must first set our relationships right. At the Table we are reminded of our common vocation, as well as of our common poverty in Christ — without him, we are nothing, but when we abide in him, anything is possible.

 

Taking care of business

Business needs to be taken care of, to be sure; but when taking care of business is considered the “meat and potatoes” of our gatherings, and the “prayers, teaching, communion, and breaking bread” are the “gravy,” things are deeply askew. Much of what goes on in such gatherings feels irrelevant to many, and staying at the meeting becomes tedious at best. Church assemblies concerned primarily with business concerns become achingly difficult for many to bear, and for good reason.

As a pastor, I learned from my mentor always to begin the meetings of the session with the service of evening prayer, including a brief teaching on the Scripture reading of the day and how it related to our current business. As I took this pattern with me into new congregations, some of the elders wondered how we could bear to add all these “extras” to meetings that already ran too long. We discovered, much to everyone’s delight, that business was carried out with much better dispatch after prayer and teaching.

The national meeting I described at the outset of this article was built around the four features of Acts 2:42, and as a result we were eager to be there. The meetings gave us life. Yet none of the business was left undone. It got done quickly in a spirit of mutual forbearance. All because we were constituted first as a gospel people, and only second as an ecclesiastical people.

So here is my modest proposal. If we yearn for trans-local church bodies to be transformed into vibrant agencies that serve our Lord Jesus and his church with missional vitality, let us begin by letting the gospel shape our gatherings. Put worship up front and center, and let rich table fellowship be its regular companion. Let our chorus of God’s praise be robust and substantive, the best we can offer. Include stirring preaching and teaching of the gospel and its ministry, rooted in the witness of Scripture. Ministers of the gospel never outgrow their need to hear the gospel proclaimed anew, to inspire them in their own gospel ministry vocation. The business at hand certainly must be accomplished; but when we all gather, what we need most is to hear a Word from God.

Setting worship, teaching, fellowship, and breaking bread at the center of our regional and national assemblies is no panacea for a struggling denomination. Perhaps doing so will draw more people to want to gather together because they know that in the gathering they will encounter the transforming and empowering work of the Spirit as well as the delights of rich fellowship. There just might be a better chance that regional and national bodies can make a real difference in the ministries of particular congregations, as those inspired by their gathering with the larger body take home with them a greater zeal for and understanding of the Gospel and its mission in the world.

 

Sheldon W. Sorge is associate director of the Louisville Institute at Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Kentucky. An earlier version of this article was published in Clergy Journal LXXIV, 4 (February 2008).

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