As the new pastor I was amused and yet dismayed. I knew enough about the New Testament meaning of koinonia that it seemed sacrilegious to reduce the rich word for Christian relationships to a gathering of women for coffee, conversation, and brief devotional. Yet over the years I have witnessed countless instances of abuse of the word usually translated as fellowship. Just the sheer number of Fellowship Halls in churches should be enough to ruin the word for any good use.

This reflection is in mind as I return from a rich experience of togetherness at the meeting of the Fellowship of Presbyterians. Two thousand Presbyterian Church (USA) leaders converged for the launching of a new organization to serve as a more sharply defined alternative to their widely diffuse denomination. Those attending the conference knew they shared a common theology, identity and purpose. It was sweet.

But was it koinonia? In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer emphasized that true koinonia is based solely on union in Christ. What binds Christians is not that we have a lot in common or we like each other. The mystical union we share in Christ transcends human differences and creates the spiritual unity we call koinonia.

Some in the PC(USA) are complaining about this movement among evangelicals to unite and to distinguish ourselves from others in the PC(USA). They claim that the unity of the church includes a spectrum of Christian beliefs. It is a fair challenge, and I think the enthusiastic Presbyterians gathered this week in Orlando would agree that the true church includes many believers who do not adhere to Reformed doctrine.

But as one participant said to me at the Fellowship of Presbyterians meeting, when we discover that others in the PC(USA) do not mean the same thing we do as they speak of “Jesus” or “Word of God” or “salvation,” it is impossible to think that we are united in Christ.

That is why we were basking in koinonia at this meeting. At last we could gather in spiritual communion and commit to a common ministry and mission.

Nevertheless, while we are counseled not to worry about tomorrow, throughout the Bible we are urged to imagine it. What is hope, other than the confident contemplation of what lies ahead?

I have a lot of friends who, along with me, are ricocheting between dream and dread. The focus is specific, since we are all caught in the confused state of the same Presbyterian denomination.

We dread that a denomination already weakened by internal defection from orthodoxy will be further weakened by departure from those who have had enough.

We dread that the trickle of heretical statements and actions might become a torrent.

We dread that we may lose the freedom to carry out our ministries without having, at least implicitly if not explicitly, to endorse beliefs and behaviors we cannot tolerate.

Yet among those who are considering bailing out, we dread that any new entity to which we might run may be too small to be effective, or too narrow and restrictive, or (always a possibility among sinners) that we may import to the new body the same virus we are trying to shake off.

On the other hand, we dream:
– of being free from internal battles in order to fight worthy battles, such as contending in this world for the truth of the gospel.

– of sharing a common faith and speaking to the world with a single voice.

– of the camaraderie and support of a tightly knit ministry team.

Returning to dread, we dread that we are only dreamers, that finding or creating a large, unified, sound denomination is unattainable.

And we dread that the cost of leaving the old entity will be too high: fractured congregations, loss of momentum, diminished resources.

Yet we dream that pursuing the dream is the path of faithfulness and will prosper in the end.

There you have it: living between dream and dread. We’re praying hard, we’re listening for every whisper from the Holy Spirit, and we’re walking by faith.

When I first set up my web log, I chose the title with less than five minutes’ thought: Journeys. My idea was to chronicle my spiritual journey in juxtaposition with other journeys, as a pastor, father and husband, and any other “journey” that came to mind. As it turns out, much of my web-based journaling has been more in the realm of opinion and observation, and my personal journey has been less obvious to the reader. This time it is different.

I am thinking about where I am in life and in my work as pastor. This could turn out to be the most difficult and challenging year of my life. The church I serve faces major decisions about its future, and their desire to follow God in the path laid out for them is complicated by the turmoil in our denomination. This matrix is going to demand all the faith, wisdom, and leadership I can muster, and even then I am not sure if I am up to the task.

So many things that I learned in previous decades seem useless in today’s ministry environment. My learning curve has remained steep throughout my adult years, as I keep encountering cultural shifts that require new ways of bringing the gospel to the world.

Here is my personal question, in its brashest form: After all these years of experience, of lessons learned and lessons still not learned, is it possible I am not all washed up, but am now poised to use sixty years of preparation for the work that God has prepared for me?

I gained fresh encouragement in this thought just this week as I pondered the early, hidden years of Jesus’ life. Alan and Debra Hirsch, in their book, Untamed, are amazed: “The fact that the almighty God, Creator of all that is, hung out in a regular neighborhood doing regular things for thirty years without anyone noticing is simply staggering.”

Their conclusion is that Jesus spent those quiet years immersing himself in the world he came to save, just as his followers must now engross themselves in the world in order to understand, to relate, to love and to serve.

In his early life Jesus “increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.” It’s as though he was incubating.

Maybe all my years of ministry and reflection, observation and prayer, will help me find a way through the coming thicket. My hope and my prayer is that God has used my life experience as an incubator to mature and equip me for the days ahead.

Ebenezer Scrooge typified the 1% in England’s emerging capitalist economy who benefitted from ownership of industry and the growing wealth of investors. Scrooge’s indifference to onerous labor conditions and to the powerlessness of the suffering poor to improve their lot touched a nerve with Dickens’ readers.

Dickens’ strategy for social reform was to revive the conscience of the powerful. Stimulated by Dickens’ stories and by the impassioned voices of other reformers, the later decades of the nineteenth century saw significant efforts, both in England in America, to address social issues.

But social justice wasn’t invented in Dickens’ day. Modern era reformers derived their vision from the scriptures, whose pages pulse with God’s insistence on equity and charity. The ancient prophets not only sounded the call for a better social order, they promised it. “In the days to come,” they announced, God would institute a realm in which all would share in well-being and prosperity.

When Mary learned that she would give birth to the Messiah, she immediately turned to Israel’s prophetic vision of a reordered society. Her defiant song, “My soul magnifies the Lord,” exults in God turning the tables on the oppressor and bringing relief to the oppressed.

Hers is a strident Christmas poem, a jarring and glorious version of the coming salvation. Jesus may seem harmless as a baby, but Mary knows that the Son of God will, “in the days to come,” lead a thorough renovation of the world, setting things right under his wise rule.

If Dickens was the first to occupy Wall Street, Mary was the first to occupy Christmas. She knew that the birth of the Messiah meant that the prophets’ promise was now guaranteed. Planting her feet on the public square, she declares this world is the domain of the Righteous Ruler. Her robust conception of life under Messiah’s reign is as compelling in our day as when she gave it voice. Those who share her passion for that better day would do well to occupy Christmas with her until the vision is fulfilled.

In nineteenth century England, Christmas was largely ignored. Some retained ancient customs of Yuletide revelry, including excessive drinking, bawdiness and promiscuity. In response, Catholics emphasized the day for religious observance, and Protestants, reacting both to the pagan revelry and the Catholic observance, did their best to ban any attention to the day at all. Though Prince Albert, after marrying Queen Victoria, introduced Germanic Christmas customs, Christmas remained a regular work day for most people.

Dickens’ purpose in writing the now famous novella was not to revive the religious observance of Christmas, however, but to awaken the public’s social conscience. Nevertheless, “keeping Christmas well” by showing compassion to the poor was the lasting result of Dickens’ wildly popular story. By reinterpreting Christmas according to his own moral vision, Dickens provided a positive spin on what had been a languishing spiritual observance.

The American Christmas of 2011 is vastly different. Not only is it a national holiday, but even among non-Christians, Christmas has become a powerful cultural event. Decorations, gift-giving and parties have enlarged Christmas from a day to a season. Inspired by Dickens’ story, Christmas today is also a time for helping the needy. Yet there are signs that the public’s awareness of the Christian meaning to the celebration is waning. Further, attendance in worship on Christmas Eve is no longer swelled by outsiders who want to add a spiritual dimension to their holiday.

In short, Christmas in America is bigger than ever and yet less connected than ever to its spiritual foundation. So, I am wondering: if Charles Dickens could “save” Christmas in nineteenth century England, could we rescue the current American Christmas? It’s not that our cultural Christmas activities are bad; it’s more that they are empty.

We’re going to have do more than open our doors on Christmas Eve if we want our neighbors to encounter the sublime message of this holy event. This is a call for creative proclamation, as compelling as Dickens’ story, to make the dramatic first chapter in God’s saving work come alive in our day.

The good news of Christmas has multiple meanings. As we reflect on the riches of this profound event – the incarnation of the Son of God – which aspect will connect with our generation?

Fair enough. But why does the public buy? Our consumer based economy is a two-way transaction, fully dependent on people willing to hand over their credit cards. On the one hand, advertising contributes to the buying frenzy by creating desire for goods. But I think it is mistaken to attribute the year-end consumer madness to marketing alone.

Purchasing stuff satisfies something within us – or else we wouldn’t part with our hard-earned cash. Is there a psychological or even spiritual basis for the American eagerness to buy? If there is, then all the railing that Christians do about consumerism at Christmas may miss an opportunity to reinterpret that longing to buy.

Michael Moynagh believes that consumerism is not only fully embedded in western culture, but that Christians can find a spiritual explanation for its hold on society.

“Buying a lifestyle, for example, expresses the search for identity. Looking good – through clothes, cosmetics and all the rest – reflects the desire to be accepted. Eating out with friends is a way to belong. An Internet chat-room may help you feel connected to a bigger whole. Looking forward to a holiday may give meaning to a boring job.

“Identity, acceptance, belonging, connection to the whole and meaning – these are the stuff of faith, the genome of Christianity. The continued demand for them will create openings for the church. Can the church welcome these opportunities, while critiquing the excesses of consumerism at the same time?” (From emergingchurch.intro)

The starting point is to understand why people try to “consume Christmas.” Why have Americans unconsciously endorsed the idea that they can experience Christmas by consuming? Because the advertisements subtly convey the suggestion that what people want most – look again at the list above: identity, acceptance, belonging, connection to the whole and meaning – can be attained through giving and receiving Christmas presents.

It’s a false gospel, and every year it disappoints, but could Christians be savvy enough to engage people at the level of their genuine hopes and needs, right in the middle of the buying spree?

Complaining loudly about the focus on spending and on surrounding the tree with stuff misses the spiritual desire driving this consuming passion. Let’s find ways to name what it is that people would pay anything to buy, if only they could find it. And when they ask, How much? the answer, of course, is that it is very costly, and it is free.

In my last post I reflected on the local campaign headquarters dotted across each state, whose staffers have to figure out how to get media time and public attention for their candidate. They meet regularly for campaign briefings, to assess how things are going and what to do next.

It is not farfetched to compare the effort to elect a president to the endeavor to persuade people to give their allegiance to Jesus Christ. One difference, of course, is that the advancement of the kingdom of God is a movement directed and energized by God himself. Christians are enlisted in this campaign to exalt Christ as Lord of all, but the design of the entire project is laid out by God.

Still, the advantage of using the campaign analogy is that it captures the excitement and drama of drawing people to devote themselves to the Ruler of all. At its best, this is a campaign in which those who become supporters of the Lord not only switch their allegiance; they also join the campaign. When people offer their loyalty to the King of kings, they commit themselves to elevating the reputation of their Master.

Every new believer is expected to show up at the local campaign headquarters, each of which is organized to promote the worldwide movement devoted to the reign of Christ.

What do we do inside our buildings? Certainly we affirm our love for Christ, learn more about his way and agree to adjust our lives as his disciples. And at our best we think of ourselves, upon leaving headquarters, as being sent by the triune God to carry out Christ’s mission to the world.

Every political campaign holds briefings for staff and volunteers, to hear how the work is going elsewhere, to get instructions on new strategy, to get fired up and unified for the work ahead. Every person leaves the briefing with a job to do.

Do Christians ever hold campaign briefings? This may be the missing piece in the missional movement. While great headway is being made in convincing Christians that they are sent by God to represent the saving work of Christ, most believers suffer a failure of imagination as soon as they leave headquarters. “What is it exactly that I should be doing as a participant in God’s mission?”

It is impossible to particularize for every person, especially since our mission is conducted moment by moment by the Holy Spirit. No one at campaign headquarters can know in advance what every individual should do.

But I think we could approximate a campaign briefing with great benefit. Bring in weekly reports from the field, describe new opportunities and recent setbacks, remind each other of the Goal. And send everyone out of the meeting with renewed dedication to promote their Lord in every possible way.

I got to thinking about how that move might feel to the candidate. Here is someone desperately trying to get the attention and allegiance of an entire state. Think of the competition. That candidate is counting on five storefront offices with modest budgets to get their message out. What else is vying for people’s attention?

– a handful of other Republican candidates
– the news of the day (the Euro, the Penn State scandal, Occupy Wall Street, etc.)
– Christmas commercials
– the struggling economy, job shortages, etc.

Five small campaign headquarters will try to direct everyone to their message above the din of other voices. How in the world can they succeed?

In addition to the cacophony of political and economic messages, there is one other message vying for attention, of course. It is described as good news. . . actually life-changing, world-shaping news. And there are campaign headquarters set up in nearly every community to get the message out.

Every year just before the advent season, many churches pause to rejoice that God has installed a ruler, Christ the King, whose kingdom is without end. This King is not awaiting a future election. He has already ascended the throne. But the fulfillment of his reign awaits the Day when all creation will be reformed and realigned.

In the meantime God has set up campaign headquarters across the globe with the task of alerting everyone that this new ruler has accepted the task of reordering the world, eliminating evil, and drawing the allegiance of the world to the King of kings.

Can we get the message out? There are many competing messages; we feel like we’re short-staffed.

The church should proclaim its gospel message with the intensity and dedication of a political campaign staff, yet with the confidence that the One they proclaim has already won; he is Lord of all. The urgency is to alert everyone before the Lord returns. “And this good news of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the world, as a testimony to all the nations; and then the end will come.”