Drew GoodmansonAuthor Drew Goodmanson lives in San Diego and is an elder at Kaleo Church. He writes a weekly column, Sheep & Goats for the San Diego Reader. He currently spends his time as a church planter, a tent-maker, a husband and father. You can read some of his musings at goodmanson.com.
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Growing up, Church had always been a sanitized place. It was the one
day a week that I dressed up in my ‘Sunday best’ and shook the hands of
adults like we were all congratulating ourselves on being Christians. I
learned the game early on in my life. I was the kid who could rattle
off the right answer in Sunday school and who knew how to smile and say
the right things. Church was a clean and tidy world to act a charade,
but it was void of reality and meaning.
Sunday became a
ritualistic façade for me to play ‘Christian’. Outside of Church there
was no room for my religion. Faith was what you did once a week. It
continued to the point where I was a student leader of the High School
group my senior year, but afterwards I would either go drinking or
smoke a bowl.
As I grew up and left for college, I left my
faith in God but mostly I left my belief that the Church would ever
have a place of value in my life. There was an enormous divide between
Church and reality. It was only through a series of life-changing
events that regardless of my rejection of religion, I knew that I
needed God.
It was through this journey that I got involved in
the emerging church-planting movement. It was the first time that I was
called to something much more holistic at church. The crowd wasn’t
dressing up out of tradition but a group who knew they were once lost
and now they were found. Ex-drug addicts, the lost and other people
returning to church gathered together each week but more than that,
they lived life together. No one felt they had to pretend that they had
a perfect-plastic life with no problems. We all knew we were messed up
people trying to figure out what the church was but we believed it
could not be compartmentalized to a single day of the week.
I
think church-planters often plant churches in a reaction against
something more than anything else. And I believe from talking with
numerous pastors in the emerging movement, that this holistic Christian
living is a huge piece of the puzzle. They have a desire for the church
to become a local body void of modernistic 12-step programs to live
together in the beautiful mess of the church.
This vision
was clearly demonstrated for me at Imago Dei Community a five-year-old
church plant in Portland. This inner-city church purposefully loved the
unlovely and created a church that no modern-suburbanite church could
seek out. Through ministering to heroin addicts, homeless teens, people
dying from aids, they began to see these people come to Christ and come
to church. Their Pastor, Rick McKinley, just wrote a book called Jesus
in the Margins - Finding God in the Places We Ignore (pick this book up
for some great stories), his first in a series discussing the
marginalized and the vision of what the Kingdom of God looks like. This
book and my time speaking with Rick and others at Imago has been a rich
source of inspiration for what we hope to do here in San Diego at Kaleo
Church. Imago Dei desires to serve more people outside of their church
walls than attend on Sundays. The percentage of their community that
serves in local missions is extremely high and this is in a church that
is about 1,000 people now.
I spoke to another church-planter,
Ryan Sharp, who I wrote an article on for the San Diego Reader. Sharp
and his wife Holly, recently were asked to be god-parents to a homeless
couple, Michael and Heather. Heather and Michael were a young homeless
couple camping out on the beach in front of their place. Their
neighbor, Martin, offered the couple to come into his studio apartment
and stay while they got their feet back underneath them. A couple weeks
later, Heather turns out to be pregnant. That was about 8-9 months ago.
Michael is in jail because he broke his parole. Sharp and his community
are helping raise money for baby supplies and to support this new
family. Anchor Point is a small community of a dozen people or so
trying to live this mess out.
These are just some of the
stories of the Beautiful Mess that I pray the emerging church seeks to
become. It’s easy to say that we want to do these things but it is so
much harder to live it. Personally, I like things that are fixed,
sanitized and ordered. It’s part of my nature. When broken people
(based on my selfish standards) come into our church family it takes a
lot of time and sacrifice to walk with them in life. But this is where
we are calling our community to. We have had a homeless ministry for
over one-year (we’re two-years old) and are looking for ways to go
beyond traditional social justice ministry. We want to go out and
become the beautiful mess of the Kingdom of God.
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