Christ-centered Community Part 5: Engagement in Spiritual Gifting
What our calling as Spirit-gifted members of the body of Christ could look like and a time I saw this happen
What we’ve discussed so far
It’s been a bit of time since my last post, but I’m back to rambling. This entry is the fifth installment of my focus on the church, or Christ-centered community. Only one more to go after this! You can read the previous entries below:
Part 2: Belonging in family (equality in siblinghood)
Part 3: Empowerment in our shared priesthood (and why that was always God’s plan for each of us)
This next and final post is on growth into maturity.
We all have charismata, and we all have stuff to do
The metaphor of the body of Christ is used to describe the multi-faceted, Spirit-giftedness of each member as a critical component of the gathered body throughout the New Testament (Rom 12:3-8, 1 Cor 6:15, 12:12-31, Eph 1:22-23, 4:11-16, Col 1:18, 2:17). And grace-gifts are from the Spirit to each and every one of us (Rom 12, 1 Cor 12, and Eph 4 are our primary passages). Not only do we have the blessed gift of the Holy Spirit dwelling within and among us, we each have a part to play through gifting.1
This reality is why the dignity of the saints is a primary motivator for me, and it’s why I ask questions and push for change in the church. I believe our structures can often undermine the grace afforded to each saint in the community by setting apart, spotlighting, and elevating certain individuals and their gifts to carry out the majority of (or most “important”) ministry. Additionally (possibly as a result), we don’t usually have places for the saints to discover and walk in their gifts as equally-valued and necessary parts of the body of Christ. I think this should be a basic part of how we live as Christ-centered community, but I don’t think most churches make this a point of emphasis, much less a lived reality. It is a regrettable indignity to God’s people when ministry is isolated in individuals and not shared among the corporate body, and an easy way to avoid that is to actually equip people for ministry.
We can often prioritize individuals over the group in Western culture and churches, so sometimes it can be hard to feel like we all equally matter to one another and to God. What we miss when we don’t value each person, each gifting, and each calling as indispensable is the beautiful diversity of the church being equipped for ministry and growing into maturity as a corporate, organic body.
These passages that talk about the body of Christ and the gifts of the Spirit underscore a few critical realities of Christ-centered community. First, they emphasize our relationship to Jesus. Jesus is the head of the body, his church, and we all belong to him as members. of it. Christ is the head of all things, including the church (also Eph 1:22-23, Col 1:18). He guides the church, the church belongs to him, and he sustains the church. We are given something to do by our gifting, and there is a necessary part to play for each of us, but it’s all about making Christ known through walking in our collective giftings and empowerment. Second, they emphasize our relationship to one another, as our gifts also serve the body. The body is united, and each member has a part to play in harmony with the will of Christ through the Spirit. We all equally serve Jesus as we function according to our giftedness and callings to make Christ known to all people. Our gifts serve the members of the body as it grows and matures.
Many things can get in the way of every person being valued as indispensable members of the body of Christ, and our structures and practices can sometimes miss opportunities to dignify every gathered saint in Christ-centered communities. But, we can live in a way where the whole body thrives.
That time I saw this happen
As this series has gone on, I’ve been asked at various times in various ways, “Can you describe an example of when this or that has happened?” What follows is the closest I have come to seeing the giftedness of the body of Christ actually happen in a church context. The ironic thing about this experience is that I don’t think there was a concerted effort by this particular church to do things this way as an ecclesiological ambition. It wasn’t accidental, per se, but it sort of happened for a variety of reasons, which I will try and outline below. That said, the fact that this happened without explicit intent makes me all the more hopeful that any Christ-centered community can flourish if they were to seek these things intentionally.
I believe the main reason this particular church “worked” for a time was that the Spirit was allowed space to move. And it’s really that simple. Incidentally, that’s the same reason I believe dramatic change can happen in a community and that it does not have to take years upon years or starting from scratch. Though, change often does take a long time, and starting fresh could make certain things easier. Additionally, as with the early churches of the NT, what we will see here is descriptive of what could be, not necessarily prescriptive of what must be. Context matters, and there were factors that made the four years or so I describe below unique. But that time did spur my imagination and hope for the church to new levels, because there were also many reasons why that community never should have worked. So, from place to place, I believe Christ-centered community can look a lot of different ways, but I do believe any community can thrive, because the Spirit of God is real and active. Here’s how it looked for a brief moment in our experience:
After Christa and I got married in Georgia in 2008, we moved to Southern California to start our theological study. As we searched for Christian communities to invest and grow in, we came across a new church plant in a nearby suburb. A few things stood out about the church in the early weeks and as we continued to attend and invest in this church for five years:
A lot of people were involved. Our first week there, we’d arrived early and were greeted by a few folks who were part of the music team. We saw other people hanging up fabrics for ambiance, and there were others straightening the chairs. A different person spoke and made announcements, and it was clear there were many more involved who we may have noticed if we’d gotten there an hour earlier.
A lot of people were leaders. After we’d attended for a while and had gone through the membership process (more below), we were invited to be a part of what was essentially the leadership team. It consisted of twenty or so people (regular gatherings at Sunday services were about a hundred people), each of whom shared some of the decision-making or were asked to contribute, and also had various responsibilities in the community. Many of them were the same people we saw active our first time there. But most significantly, there was broad permeability to this leadership team. Involvement in leadership was not closed off, restrictive, or limited to a certain number of people. It was based on maturity and commitment to the group, but open broadly and even open to those who were young in their faith. I think a couple key things contributed to this, which I will list here:
The church was not pastor-centric. We didn’t even know who the pastor was for the first few weeks we came along. There was a pastor, but he wasn’t speaking when we started attending, though he was there. He’d introduced himself to us by his first name, and no one made it a point to call him “pastor so and so” to us. Some did refer to him that way, but we were unaware of that early on. It turned out that he had a full-time job that was customer-facing, so he was great with people. But, his role as “pastor” was different than many pastoral roles we see today. And I use quotation marks for pastor here because of how differently it played out compared to other experiences before and since. He could have been called “speaker,” “Guy who teaches regularly,” “story teller,” or something else. There was effectively no pastor in the traditional, common usage of the word in many churches today. Multiple people had pastoral gifts (perhaps ironically, the pastor wasn’t the most pastoral person there, but he was gifted to teach, among other things), so we weren’t without those who cared for one another. Whatever the reason this was the case, it stood out as unique, and we saw numerous people involved from the start in ways we had not seen before in places where the pastor instigated and drove the ministry of the church.
No one was paid by the church, which probably coincided with the church not being pastor-centric.2 No paid staff may have had practical reasons like government compliance, insurance, and other legal implications. But no one was paid for ministry, and it was a point of pride in many ways. As we got more involved, we heard numerous people in leadership and many who weren’t say how good it was for the community that no one depended on the church for salaries. The people involved had jobs, school, or other things they did during the week, which created space for ministry to be shared, and each person filling those needs meant we were all necessary. It also meant that our giving was free to go to ministry in which we all participated. There was a practical need for each person, and subsequently, a perceptible gap when someone wasn’t there. If people were gone, someone else had to meet a need, but there was a collective effort to do so. Sometimes, things didn’t get done, and this gave us an opportunity to have productive conversations and change what we did as we went.
Membership was a high calling. Even the process of membership (it was called something else) was a bit unique to what we’d previously and since experienced. Those who wanted to commit were guided through a series of focused sessions with a current, good-standing member, who served as a mentor of sorts. The mentor would meet, usually one-on-one or one-on-two with those who wanted to covenant with the community, and they’d talk through core values and beliefs for at least an hour or two at a time over a meal or in someone’s home. The process usually took at least six weeks, and the new member was then publicly commissioned with the laying on of hands to be an active part of the community based on their gifts, callings, and passions (which were talked about during the mentor meetings). There were further mentor-type programs that built off this starting point that people could pursue as they grew and as commitment levels increased. These processes also provided opportunities for people to build deep relationships.
Those involved were committed. Speaking of commitment, there was an expectation that each member actively lived out a meaningful, functional expression of their passions and faith in the community. A lot was asked of each person, and there was clearly a reciprocity to that expectation. And this function was not entirely lived out on a Sunday morning. People did ministry in their contexts, but the community would often come alongside them and support them. Examples included raising money for mission work with refugees, art galleries and exhibitions, helping people move houses, fix cars, lay tile in homes, and much more.
Those who were involved were listened to by the community because their contributions were meaningful and necessary, and there was a reality that each new member changed the way the community functioned because what they brought was unique, good, and necessary. Further, it wasn’t simply “leadership” and everyone else. There was stuff to do for everyone, and commitment to further involvement came as each person grew into their place in the community. Casual attenders were regularly encouraged to become more involved, and they often did because there was actually something meaningful for them to do that mattered to them. Instead of just asking people to help greet, pass offering plates, and serve coffee, the church asked them what they cared about and created space for them to do it in the context of the community. The context of the ministry of the church would morph as people brought new gifts, passions, and areas of mission to the church.
Small groups were vibrant and numerous. Most people who came regularly were involved in a small group, and many of these small groups evolved from the membership relationships I described above. Since those membership processes took weeks, they naturally led to relational intimacy and connection. From there, people wanted to connect like that more, so small groups were a natural segue and covered a range of topics. Some were on healthy boundaries, others on attachment and emotional health, others on books of the Bible, or even basic hermeneutics (Bible study methods). There was a place for new Christians and seasoned ones alike, but the point was growing in community was a shared value for most.
Baptisms were communal. This was a special one, because it was in this context where Christa and I were able to baptize dear friends of ours who had never been baptized before. We walked with them through the new-believer and membership journeys, and they decided to be baptized (as one of the weeks focused on baptism as part of our faith journey). We had a special gathering with members of the community and baptized them in the ocean. Interestingly, one of the lifeguards on duty came and spoke to us and asked what we were doing. When we told him we were baptizing our friends, he said, “Woah, I thought you had to be ordained to do that!” That instance has stuck with us because it was the first time we had each baptized someone. Apparently we had the same assumptions growing up as the random lifeguard did that only certain people could do that. On numerous occasions, people were baptized in pools and had friends and mentors in the water with them. Sometimes the pastor baptized people, but the most meaningful moments were when friends, family, and others in the community were involved directly.
Things were a bit messy. We’d been to places before where music was well-rehearsed and semi-professional and where things flowed well. While the musicians at this church were talented and worked hard, there was always someone involved who was learning in that space. Sometimes a note was missed, or someone was “flat,” but it didn’t matter. Also, transitions between music, announcements, speaking, etc., were sometimes awkward and goofy. A strange transition would be laughed about publicly, but no one cared. We liked the “chaos,” and a relaxed environment was created as a result.
Women were involved. This reality may be implicit with some of the above distinctives, but it’s worth pointing out here. This church was the first one where either Christa or I saw a woman pass an offering place, let alone preach—and Christa, among other women, preached on multiple occasions. As there were many needs in the community, the functional meeting of the need was central. It made questions like, “Can women serve here or there?” less threatening than they often were in certain places we’d been. Meeting needs was more important than restricting those who were called to meet them.
We were nomadic. We didn’t have a building we owned.3 Over the course of our five years there, we met in a restaurant, an art gallery, a dance hall, and a bar, renting each space as it suited our needs. For a time, we even met outside in a parking lot (SoCal weather made this viable). Each week, we had to haul in chairs, sound equipment, and other items that we used for our gatherings. A variety of people were involved in set up and tear down, and these times provided space to bond with one another. “Church” was far more than ninety minutes on a Sunday morning for most of us, and we had heaps of time to get to know one another, share important discussions, pray for one another, share meals together, attend small groups, and much more. It’s worth noting that some people only came for the Sunday service and never got involved beyond that time. Our Sunday gatherings were mainly to preach the gospel, and growth into maturity mostly happened outside of a Sunday gathering, and a lot of people pursued that.
There were other unique attributes that made this experience notable, but, again, the Spirit was able to move. There was a value of the church that essentially said that everything we did and the way we structured our church was always in submission to the movement of the Spirit. We regularly talked about this value, and God was free to move in, through, and among each of us together as we did church.
In the context of this church plant, Christa and I were studying at a nearby seminary and learning much of the ecclesiology that undergirds our heart for the church. We also had opportunity to test and apply what we learned in this church community. The characteristics listed above provided a space for us to experiment, ask questions, and dream, but it was the Holy Spirit and the gathered saints who made these passions take on new life. Doing this alongside brothers and sisters who truly became family to us made those years some of the most life-giving we’ve ever experienced.
It didn’t stay the way it started
However, it didn’t all stay that way. While I am going to spare some details, here are a few things that happened and changed the nature of the community quite dramatically in a very short period of time.
We merged with another church. There were several factors that precipitated this, but the make-up of the church seemingly changed overnight with very little engagement with the community. New people came into the community with their own contexts and own ways of doing things. They were keen and great people, but it was an abrupt change with some practical and significant adjustments.
Leadership constricted and became isolated. For the first time in our five years of being in the church, a formal leadership group was created, and the term “elders” was used for the first time. Functionally, our leadership team that consisted of about twenty folks had acted as elders in many ways prior to this change. But, two elders were chosen by the pastor after our merger, one from each of the main communities that came together. It was said that this was to build unity between the two communities, and perhaps it did in a way. While the two of them were good people and qualified in many ways, it reflected a choice to narrow leadership and isolate decision-making. The regular leadership meetings we were a part of ceased, and the pastor and elders assumed responsibility that previously had been broadly shared. This changed the way many of us expressed our gifts and callings in the community, and that was startling to try and adjust to.
Money became a dividing line. For one, the pastor started getting paid. The church that merged into ours didn’t have a pastor coming with them, so the pastor at our community was seen as the leader who would carry the “extra burden.” There were others involved in this decision who were external to our community, but not a lot of conversation (if any) occurred in our community about paying a pastor. This was a strange omission and instigated several changes that unsettled Christa and I, among others, especially given our previous posture of celebrating no paid staff.
Additionally, there started to be a lot of talk on tithing. While giving money to the church was always encouraged, a couple things shifted. First, it was made clear that the only giving that “counted” as part of our membership/covenantal giving was in the form of a 10% tithe to the church, whose leadership would then decide how it was allocated. Prior to this, many of us were giving to needs in the community as we saw them and as we were able, and this giving was done generously by many, and it was understood this was consistent with our calling as members of the community. Money was given to the church before, and it was spent in various ways, but formal giving of at least 10% of our finances became a point of conflict with leadership after some time. Second, giving became tied to trust, as we were asked how could we be trusted by the leadership to minister in the church if we did not trust them with our money. The reality was that this sort of relationship was not based on trust at all, but was received as manipulative, transactional, and un-loving.
Efficiency took precedence. Perhaps this is obvious at this point, but beyond elevating an individual to a paid office, a few other core distinctives changed. Efficiency started to become primary. The pastor began to say things like, “we don’t have time for this or that.” Things we had been doing and ways we had been ministering shifted by the will of the pastor, or at least without broad engagement. The “messiness” described above was no longer seen as a positive thing, and our leadership team meetings ceased and were replaced by meetings with just the newly formed eldership of two plus the pastor, a permanent elder. No longer was there a diversity of invested voices invited to share and speak into key decisions. This was seen as inefficient and “took too long.” Essentially doubling our size might necessitate certain procedural changes, but there was a noticeable shift in how and why we did things, and efficiency became the expressed reason for a lot of new changes. Unfortunately, the shift toward a more efficient church meant that we sacrificed much of what previously made us the church we were. Individual voices and many unique contributions were undermined or forfeited so that we could make certain decisions more quickly.
Excellence trumped initiative. Along with efficiency becoming more important, a new emphasis was placed on excellence. For example, a new worship team was formed, and they were chosen primarily because of their talent. The other community had a worship band with a different, energetic style, and they were given leadership in that space. People who, before, were “trying things out” in our community no longer had a place to be a part of the worship team, because they weren’t as musically proficient. This was, at least, their perception of not being included in the weekly rosters, which led to a significant amount of hurt for those who were exploring their musical gifting in our community. There was poor communication on top of it, and confusion was rampant. No one was trying to hurt anyone, but the ethos of the group shifted to an emphasis on performative excellence, and many people who had a heart to serve and grow in that space found themselves left out.
Questions (and those who asked them) became problems. Given the dramatic changes that occurred with little communication and buy-in, a lot of people had questions, Christa and I among them. When we asked ours, there was a surprising amount of distrust and confrontation, and we began to be seen as antagonistic, complainers, and power-seekers. We’d been an active part of that community for four years, but our questions about why certain changes were happening the way they did led to defensiveness and unfair assumptions by the new leadership. We were not the only ones who felt this way, and we were directly accused of not trusting leadership.
Over the course of the next year, we labored over the community, trying to make sense of the changes that were happening while also taking our commitment to covenant with this community to heart. This was our family, after all. We had many meetings, a lot of tears, and not a few difficult moments. After a while of fighting to stay connected and invested, it became clear that we were no longer welcome in that space—at least, not without sacrificing core convictions of ours, which would have violated our consciences. Throughout the process, we had a lot of conversations with other sisters and brothers of ours in the community who were going through similar struggles, and our plea was to fight for the community and do everything we could to stay. However, Christa and I were essentially given an ultimatum to get on board or leave. The conditions given for us to stay would have caused us to feel like we were being disobedient, so we decided to leave. This was an agonizing decision for us.
Christa and I decided to take time to heal and hear from God afterward. Nine months later, a group of us (some from that early community) started a house church, which we were a part of for a few years before we moved to Scotland for Christa’s PhD program. More on that in another post…
What we take with us
The dignity of God’s people. I keep harping on this because it matters so much. First, all humanity is created in God’s image, and that is inherently dignifying. Second, in Christ, we are given the Holy Spirit. Christ-centered community must be a place where these things are true. Making Christ known is the main call of the church, and we best do this by flourishing as the communal body of Spirit-gifted saints.
The ceiling is extremely high for the church, but you might not realize it most of the time. Too often, we limit our expectations of God’s people because we’ve seen them make grand messes of things, or be mean-spirited to one another, or otherwise not look like Jesus at all. But, because of the dignity of the saints and the presence of the Holy Spirit, we are so much more than our past failures. Just think on Paul’s words to the Corinthians:
4 I thank my God always concerning you for the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus, 5 that in everything you were enriched in Him, in all speech and all knowledge, 6 just as the testimony concerning Christ was confirmed in you, 7 so that you are not lacking in any gift, as you eagerly await the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ, 8 who will also confirm you to the end, blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 God is faithful, through whom you were called into fellowship with His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. (1 Cor 1:4-9)
But the Corinthians aren’t exactly known for being the most mature people. In fact, Paul calls them divided quarrelers (1:10-12), people of the flesh and infants (3:1), not yet ready (3:2), marked by jealousy and strife (3:3), sexually immoral and arrogant (5:1-2). But the standard he holds them to is their capacity as bearers of the Holy Spirit, not who they were on their worst day (and they had some pretty bad days).
If we set the bar low for our communities, it will remain that way. To Paul and to Jesus, we are not the sum of our past shortcomings, but saints, enriched in all things, not lacking in any gift, confirmed by Christ, and called into fellowship with him. Together, we carry the manifestation of the Spirit of God as the body of Christ, in which we all have an active and important part to play.
How are you flourishing as part of Christ-centered community?
I can speculate as to reasons why I think church is the way it often is, where the body of Christ is not flourishing and where each member is not indispensable. I’d have a lot of fingers I could point back through to the Reformers, Constantine, and many of the early church Fathers. And while each of those people could arguably be credited for a lot of good, it didn’t take us long as a church to isolate power and ministry in individuals, removing dignity from the family of God and the body of Christ. James and John tried to do that while Jesus was still on earth after all (Mark 10:35-45).
But, I care far more that the flourishing of the Spirit-gifted saints as the body of Christ is seemingly a low priority in so many places. I’ve been in too many churches where it is never talked about, much less a priority. Solid teaching, vibrant worship, evangelism, discipleship, and the like are often talked about (and very good things, by the way). But have you ever been in a church where it was regularly said that the dignity and flourishing of the saints is a priority? Maybe you have, but if that were a common goal of churches, there would be solid teaching, vibrant worship, evangelism, and discipleship—because those are gifts of the Spirit to God’s people and necessary expressions of the body of Christ!
So, how do we flourish in Christ-cenetered community? Here are some questions to get you started:
Are your contributions valued in your church?
What mechanisms does your church have to help each person discover their gifting, calling, passion, etc.?
Are the spaces where you are encouraged to grow in your gifts?
Is there space for “failure” or the ability to try new things to see how they feel?
Are there gifts that are more prominent in your church gatherings? Why?
Do various expressions of gifts get “stage-time” in your gatherings?
How are non-teaching gifts emphasized at your church?
Is leadership permeable, and can anyone be a part of it?
Are there pathways for people to grow into leadership?
Does your leadership seek ways to share responsibility, and are people being equipped to take on more responsibility?
Is there transparency to your church processes?
What are the expectations put on members of your community?
Does your church talk about money? In what way?
Where is your church’s budget allocated? How much goes to staff? How much to the poor?
When your community talks about the budget, is there space for new things to be considered?
Are people equipped in studying the Scriptures for themselves?
Are the Scriptures explored communally or taught by an expert?
What role does efficiency play in your community?
Are your gatherings the same from week to week, or do they change? How or why?
Are there things that bind your church? Is your building an asset to the surrounding community, or is it limited in its function?
Can you ask questions of your leadership? Are you given space to disagree or critique?
What sort of language is used of your church community? Is it dignifying or limiting?
Ok, that’s probably enought for now. Next time, I’ll dive into maturity and how every member of Christ-centered community is meant to grow into it. Stay tuned!
Our part in the body of Christ is more complex than just charismata. Often, the conversation, rightly so, expands to include calling, passion, personality, skills, and more when it comes to how someone contributes to the ministry of the gospel. I would personally advocate a broad understanding and combination of all of these things so that individual contribution to the work of the body of Christ includes as many people and as much of each person’s uniqueness as possible. The emphasis should be the Spirit of God who empowers people, and that Spirit is available to everyone, no matter their age, ethnicity, gender, how long they’ve known Jesus, etc. The presence of the Holy Spirit should assuage our concerns about the potential of an individual to have a place to serve in our community. Too often, we don’t make enough of the dignity of God’s people in the ministry of the gospel, and it’s been to the detriment of the church and those the church could serve. I’d much rather believe too much in people than too little. Maturity, doctrine, awareness of and proficiency in gifting, all matter, but even the newest, youngest, and “least mature” members of our communities can contribute significantly because the Spirit of the living God qualifies them.
While paying people as they minister in certain ways has biblical precedent (1 Cor 9:1-12, Gal 6:6, 1 Tim 5:18), I believe we should interrogate this assumption thoroughly and regularly. It is hard for someone to be paid to perform certain tasks in a church community without that person becoming special and unlike the rest of us in a negative way. This is partly why I am viscerally opposed to the clergy/laity distinction among siblings in Christ. Professionalization of ministry can easily create harmful delineations between siblings in Christ, and I’m unconvinced the way we often do things is necessary. Rather, I see it as a concession. In fact, Paul goes out of his way to not receive payment for his role in preaching the gospel (1 Cor 9:12) so that there would be no hindrance to the communities he serves. Money can complicate how we relate to one another, how we defer to one another, how actively we step in to serve, and so much more. Pastors these days, in many ways, are paid to take up ministry space, not give it away. Why we pay people, why we don’t pay others, what we pay for and do not pay for should be regular parts of conversations in our churches.
There are implications beyond financial ones that come into play when a church owns property and certain freedoms that no longer exist when they do. Buildings can provide safe spaces for community ministry to happen, but they can also be binding with mortgages, upkeep, taxes, and the like. I’d attended a church when I was young that only built when they raised the money and did not take on debt. This was seen as active faithfulness each time they built. But, when a significant change happened in the church, the buildings no longer served the needs of the church and became a burden that couldn’t be off-loaded. How do you sell a 4,000 seat auditorium?
Wowsers, Matt! You have covered a lot of ground, much of which is all too familiar for me in church culture. I'm going to think on these things in light of your thesis that "dignity and flourishing of the saints is a priority" and may come back with some thoughts. Meanwhile, as always, thanks for putting pen to paper and laying out these issues.