I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. From time to time I would sneak a glance at the television while my wife and daughters were watching Dancing with the Stars. I was most curious about Hines Ward, the Pittsburgh Steelers’ Pro-Bowl wide receiver. “If Hines can do this, I’m certain I can as well,” I would tell myself. I would think that thought in the same way I still believe I can run receiver patterns and catch touchdowns in the NFL. I still believe I could realize the NFL dream . . . if I so chose. I still believe I can dance well . . . if I so desired. So . . . if you dared to ask . . . “yes” . . . I think I can dance!

In my ministry context dance floors are becoming a regular feature at wedding receptions. Often I lurk in the corner to monitor the floor for that individual with absolutely no sense of rhythm or fluid movement. My early research suggests there is at least one at every wedding! I realize not everyone can dance.

My youngest daughter’s Saint Patrick’s Day birthday reminds me annually of one attempt to grasp the doctrine of the Trinity – the three-in-one shamrock (It also gives us Shamrock shakes, but that’s another blog!). No doubt this image falls far short of articulating the mystery of the Trinity. Nevertheless the Church continues to employ images to get at the mystery known as the Holy Trinity. Dance is one of those images. This divine dance is called The Perichoresis. Broken down one discovers the compound nature of the Greek word (peri around/ choreo choreography). This was a way of imagining each person of the Trinitarian Godhead entwining with the others. It’s a moving metaphor!

Recently I attended my daughters’ dance recital. There I was reminded that a choreographed dance is made up of many different parts. Fluid motions of the individual dancers entwined with one another and in sync with the music creates the dance. As I watched I realized why the church finds dance a useful description for the Trinitarian nature of God.

So what does the doctrine of the Trinity have to do with ministry today? Perichoresis may be a fun word to say, but how is it helpful? When Jesus commanded his disciples to go, make disciples in the nations, and baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, he invited his disciples to dance The Perichoresis. The message of the Great Commission seems to be this: being enveloped in a new identity (see the Beatitudes) we are pushed onto the dance floor to choreograph around the world to the glory of God and to teach others the divine dance.

My elementary conclusion is that the Gospel of Matthew is a Dance Manual. The Beatitudes, found at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, include statements in the indicative. These indicative statements proclaim Good News: through the death and resurrection of Jesus this is who I’ve made you to be. Or, better put, “as you are entwined in me, this is who you now are.”

The remainder of the Sermon on the Mount as well as the rest of the Gospel introduces the dance moves of the inbreaking Kingdom of God. Responding to the grace of God and with God as the lead partner, we learn how to dance around the world to the glory of God:

• You have heard it said . . . but I say to you
• No one can serve two masters (Matthew 6:24)
• Enter through the narrow gate (Matthew 7:13)
• Deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me (Matthew 16:24-27)
• If another members sins against you, go and be reconciled. (Matthew 18:15ff)
• Go, sell your possession and give the money to the poor (Matthew 19:21ff)

As we grow in grace the dance moves become more syncopated and challenging (Matthew 25):

• I was hungry and you fed me
• I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink
• I was a stranger and you welcomed me
• I was naked and you gave me clothes
• I was sick and you took me in
• I was in prison and you visited me

So, go ahead and ask me: “Do you think you can dance?” Only as my life is caught up in God’s life! And the same is true for you! If the Church of the Nazarene is going to nurture “Christlike disciples in the nations,” she better learn to dance The Perichorisis!

I sometimes wonder if we clergy should be charged with misrepresentation. Too often dress up following Jesus in "Damascus Road" clothes. When we preach and teach about divine calling and following Jesus we rehearse the narratives of Moses, Isaiah, and Paul. Burning bushes. Overwhelming visions. Knocked to the ground. This is holy stuff!

To our congregations we recount Jesus' calling his first disciples passionately. We convey the heart racing invitation to "drop our nets and follow Jesus." We hope our parishioners will hear Jesus speak those words into their lives! "Jesus invites us to drop what we're doing and follow him," we proclaim. We remind our listeners that these first disciples immediately left their nets and followed Jesus. We hope our parishioners will do the same. Drop your nets and follow Jesus becomes our constant refrain.

In our preaching James and John, the sons of Zebedee, get the headlines and the press release. James and John left town on the adventure of a lifetime! Driving home our point of responding to Jesus' invitation to drop everything and follow, we recall contemporaries who have left their vocations to follow Jesus to another part of the world, giving them the same "James and John" type of press release.

I wonder what it was like to be Zebedee. When I picture Zebedee I see an old man, dejected and disappointed, sitting alone in his boat. His dreams shattered. "Zebedee and Sons Fishing Company" has been renamed "Zebedee Fishing Company." His retirement plan is no longer relevant. No burning bush. No overwhelming vision. Not knocked to ground. Where's the holy stuff for Zebedee?

Zebedee continues toiling in the family business. Day after day the rhythm remains. Cast the nets. Catch the fish. Clean the fish. While the sons roam the countryside Zebedee casts, catches, and cleans. Each evening he sits along in his boat. This isn't a life to garner headlines and press releases.

I wonder what it was like to be Zebedee. His sons get the slick press release. A "going away party" praises James and John for their commitment to God's mission in the world. In this beautiful portrait of responding to Jesus' invitation, our attention hones in on James and John. If Zebedee is ever considered it is with sympathy. Poor Zebedee. I wonder what it was like to be Zebedee.

I'm left to confront my assumptions about James, John, and Zebedee. I'm left to confront my assumptions about the divine call to discipleship.

• Perhaps Zebedee was invited to follow Jesus by staying home. Could it be that some of us are called to pick up dropped nets as our act of following Jesus? Could it be that the monotony of casting nets, catching fish, and cleaning them is a faithful response to Jesus' invitation to discipleship? Could it be that Zebedee was still "fishing for men and women" while he toiled at home?
• Perhaps some of us follow Jesus through vocational calling and familial life. Could it be that following Jesus means working hard and supporting others? Could it be that following Jesus means picking up after our children leave for school?
• Perhaps we've so romanticized images of following Jesus that staying home (like Zebedee) seems like an act of treason. Could it be that living out the Gospel in the corners of the world in which we live embodies covenant faithfulness? Could it be that becoming a disciple who casts the Good News out into the ponds of our backyards lives out God's mission in the world?
• Perhaps we've been guilty of looking longingly into another's call to leave town and wished a similar call would come our way. Could it be that instead of looking for a reason to leave we're invited to stay and serve faithfully? Could it be that staying put is living out God's mission where we are located geographically?

Sitting and listening to Zebedee forces me to acknowledge my hidden assumptions about following Jesus. I never heard Zebedee's story to fish for others. His story is far less glamorous than his sons, but seems much more similar to my own. Perhaps I've been invited to stay home, mend the nets, and provide fish for the family. It certainly doesn't seem as glamorous as following Jesus out of town and into a new, grand adventure with nothing but hope in my knapsack. But, truth be told, I need every ounce of hope in my knapsack to remain in my neighborhood!

It seems that for every James and John there are countless Zebedees among us! And Zebedee's call to follow Jesus, while less theatrical and dramatic, is no less compelling and no less complete than the one that sent his sons out on the adventure of a lifetime. I'm thankful for all the Zebedees in my congregation. They're a faithful bunch! We've got quite a fishing company.

Time to get back to mending the nets.

Each semester the unique configuration of courses and students facilitates the discovery of new concepts or images. This semester my students and I have reflected upon the need to match belief and practice. We’ve struggled with ways of verbalizing our thoughts. For much of the semester we’ve wandered around the periphery of a new concept. We often defaulted to the phrase “you got to walk the talk.” That is certainly true in one’s life. Yet we were seeking a concept to help frame how we might match belief and practice. Finally (as the semester is beginning to wind down!), we stumbled onto the concept of internal coherence in the practice of ministry.

For my students working on projects in church administration this new concept helps them see how the church budget must match the localized church’s understanding of the missio dei in their corner of the world. For my students exploring a philosophy and method of youth ministry it seems to mean detailed attention to purposeful connections between the localized church’s missio dei and the activities and spiritual practices employed in the youth ministry program. For my work pastorally it has come to demand deep reflection upon our confessed commitments and our current lived expressions of faith. Doing theological work has become demanding for us this semester!

Recently I received the gift of internal coherence in my life. Let me offer a background confession first! I have a tendency to become cynical. With a tinge of cynicism, I approached our District Pastor and Spouse’s retreat with little expectation. My experience leads me to believe that most retreats are “retreats” in name only. Too often clergy “retreats” are CEUs (continuing education units). Too often clergy are instructed on more efficient ministry practices . . . while they’re “retreating.” In those experiences the retreat lacks internal coherence. Thus, I came prepared to be frustrated. I wanted (perhaps, needed) retreat. I expected to encounter dissonance between the language of retreat and the business we’d accomplish.

When my wife and I arrived we were greeted warmly by friends and given a small bag. Following our registration at the front desk we settled into our room. Reclining on the bed I examined the retreat brochure to determine which sessions I would skip. To my surprise I found the retreat them to be “clergy health.” Immediately I opened the gift bag to inspect the goodies. I was searching for internal coherence! I found fruit, water, health bars, and some small chocolate pieces instead of the customary chips and candy. “Impressive,” I thought.

The schedule for the remainder of the first evening included a shared meal and a worship service. I began to retreat as I shared table fellowship with my colleagues in the dining room and around the Eucharistic Table. “Impressive,” I thought as I retired for the evening.

Following a late breakfast we gathered for another session. During this time our District Superintendent addressed the issue of clergy health. His reflections were personal and poignant. He encouraged us to think holistically about our health. He explored the intellectual life of the pastor. He asked if we received an annual physical and if we had been taking care of our bodies. He confronted us about the need for Sabbath-keeping and the nurturing of our familial relationships. Following his direct assault on our current practices he invited us to share our “confessions” with one another and to pray together, seeking to nurture accountability for the coming weeks and months. “Impressive,” I thought as I prepared for a leisurely afternoon with my wife.

(For me, I’ve been doing a lot of reading about clergy health. A number of pieces on clergy physical health have crossed my desk. The statistics are alarming. Consider these frightening statistics of one sample of Nazarene clergy and their spouses: 73% were overweight, 31% were diabetic, and only 3% ate a nutritious diet regularly. The retreat’s theme was critical.)

Dinner brought us together for a time of public accountability. After giving consideration to our health earlier in the day, each of us was forced to walk the long line of a buffet table. Talk about fear and trembling! “They should have served us only healthy options,” I fumed internally!

Upon reflection I realized the genius of this public accountability. If any of us desire to establish patterns of health, each one must exercise self-control. With that discovery in hand I prepared for the long-anticipated evening session. “Is this when internal coherence would fall by the wayside?,” I wondered.

That evening we gathered in the Kahuna Laguna, a 40,000 square-foot water wonderland! It wasn’t necessarily a pretty site. Many of us hadn’t exercised in years and had eaten too many desserts. Nevertheless, we laughed and played. We relaxed and retreated. We took one small step together to becoming a healthier clergy.

The remainder of the retreat remained internally coherent as we explored the importance of the retreat’s theme. In fact, we left knowing both in our heads and in our bodies how a healthy clergy lives. I experienced the gift of an internally coherent ministry. I left with a stronger commitment to being a healthy pastor.

As I returned to my pastoral responsibilities in the classroom and at the church my attention began to focus upon internal coherence and what it might mean for us. Do we say “keep Sabbath” and put people on a treadmill of activity? Do we say “love your neighbor” and keep ourselves so occupied that we never meet our neighbors? The list of questions could go on. The uniqueness of this semester has invited me and my students to give consideration to internal coherence in ministry. What might an internally coherent ministry look like in your corner of the world?

As a local church we're trying to be as responsible as we can. A reduction in the use of paper, replacing of inefficient lighting with more efficient systems, and the strategic placement of recycling bins are small steps. We continue to explore better practices of stewarding the corner of creation entrusted to our care and responsibility.

Yet it seems that responsibility for creation involves more than these cost-effective decisions. If we explore the question theologically, we're forced to name the bifurcation between spirit and matter at play in our theological construction. As long as we believe our eschatology only includes our "spirits" or "souls" then we will have little commitment to the matter of creation.

In the act of the incarnation of God we find a definitive statement about matter. Simply put, matter matters. Creation matters and our acts of creativity matter. Our bodies matter. Flowers and trees matter. Even our buildings matter. Our responsibility is shaped theologically.

Spring showers in New England this past year dropped record amounts of water onto the earth. Rivers overflowed their banks. Streets and homes were flooded. Our church was not exempt from this. With our building just fifty yards from a marsh area we're required to have flood insurance for a reason!

Needless to say, water entered the building through a number of cracks in our cement foundation. We pumped water throughout the night. At points our laughter shielded us from our despair and disappointment. Early the following morning we realized that we were not going to win and went home. Over the next few days the waters continued to rise in the church basement. Classrooms and offices were emptied to salvage what we could of our "property."

After the waters receded, the clean-up began. The flood adjustor visited the flooded basement. Sunday school was canceled. The nursery was moved upstairs to the fellowship hall. Sunday worship services were held and we stopped singing songs about "opening the floodgates of heaven!" Jokes about Noah and the Ark abounded.

During the days and weeks following the rains, the church board had very interesting conversations. We considered strategies for clean-up. We returned to prior discussions about water drainage and proposals to keep the basement dry. We debated financial costs for specific proposals. As we considered options – some quite elaborate and expensive – one member asked a very simple question: if we keep our basement dry where will the water go? Another member responded quickly "our neighbors' basements," which prompted laughter. Amid the laughter an epiphany shone brightly. Our course of action became quite clear for us.

As a local congregation we came to realize that water will inevitably enter the building from time to time. Our strategy intends to reduce the impact of the inevitable flood waters. We've hung cabinetry to keep important documents and supplies off the floor. We've elevated our computers and wires. All this is a response to a simple question which demanded consideration of our neighbors as much as our own desires.

As practical theologians we're now suppose to ask critical questions. How did the congregation come to that decision? What was going on in that situation? How did the question of "being a good neighbor" come to be asked? Such questions, along with others, situate the practice of theology in critical reflection upon lived experience as it relates to faith, ministry, and one's social environment.

There are a number of potential lines of inquiry. A few examples include:

• How did the congregation come to describe and identify the concept of "neighborliness"?

• What role do biblical narratives and the practice of reading, studying, and reflection upon Scripture play in creating space for God to speak into the congregation's shared life?

• How might one build church facilities in step with the slope and grade of creation?

• How might church facilities reflect what the People of God believe about the Nature and Mission of God in the world?

In the end it seems that our role as pastors (aka: pastoral theologians) is to assist congregations in the practice of critical reflection on the lived experience of faith. In doing so we might discover that the journey (the lived experience of faith) is as important as any final decision made by an individual, church board, or congregation.

For me, I learned a lot about my congregation as we mopped floors and discussed plans. I learned that we care about our neighbor's homes and safety as much as we do about their "souls." I learned that our practices have shaped us to be able to answer the question – who is my neighbor? – even when we're knee deep in water.

I’ll cut right to the chase.  I thought the children of my congregation had become inoculated from the disease known as Children’s Craft Christianity (CCC).  Then one day I witnessed a disaster on the assembly line.  Holding up the teacher’s model project, Bobby told Charles that one of the pieces of his project was in the wrong place.  Charles said he didn’t care and that he could put the piece wherever he wanted to put it.  Bobby retorted “we have a model to follow.  You either do it right or you don’t do it!”  Charles picked up his project and went to another table.

While the situation seems innocent child’s play, deeper reflection might cause us to consider the current relationship between the Arts and Christian discipleship and formation endorsed in our local congregations.  It seems society’s assembly-line, cookie-cutter approach to mass production has infiltrated our concepts of discipleship and formation.  Creativity has been exchanged for precision.  Wonder has been replaced with certainty.

“Making Christlike disciples in the nations” is NOT a mass production activity.  Each complex person will enter the Story of God uniquely and will express their union with God creatively and, at times, very differently than others.

I confess that I have backed into this discovery.  My daughters have had a very gifted art teacher for the last few years.  During these years they have learned a number of concepts about artistic design, interpretation, and expression.  Armed with this knowledge and appreciation of art our vacation became a bit more interesting.

As we walked the aisles and corridors of the National Cathedral, National Gallery of Art in Washington DC and the Baltimore Museum of Art, I observed my daughters exploring the various paintings, especially ones narrating the story of Jesus’ baptism.  More often than not the painting captured a scene with water being poured over Jesus’ head and NOT a scene with Jesus being immersed in the lake.  They wondered . . . “this is an interesting hermeneutical move!” (But they didn’t say it quite like that!) Suddenly a point of theological conversation for our family about the practice of baptism!

Standing in front of a painting we pondered concepts such as the importance of historical context, artistic interpretation, and religious experience in the communication of the Gospel.  As a practical theologian . . . this is at the heart of my work and I was excited!  As a father . . . I couldn’t ask for a greater gift than to be in a museum pondering the depths of the Christian life with my 11 and 9 year old daughters.  Our family vacation couldn’t have been more meaningful.  And I began to dream.

I dream of the day when one of the Sunday school rooms in our little church is transformed into an art studio and the sanctuary becomes a gallery telling the stories of how God’s grace has invaded and transformed the lives of those who gather among us.  I dream of the day when the music we sing emerges from the depths of our stories that have lead us to creative writing and musical expression.  I dream of the day when our shared life together conjures biblical narratives and images to communicate the Gospel of Jesus the Christ in a world needing of a Story which might orient them amid the incessant clamor and flashing images of 21^st century living.

Just as a commitment to literacy for the masses began a movement called Sunday school, might a commitment to the Arts birth a movement which speaks into a generation saturated with noise and images?  Might an artistic movement create space for a recovery of awe, wonder, and creativity in the Christian life?  Is there a way for something like the Scriptural meditative and reflective process of lectio divina to find its way into visual expression?  Might such a visual expression then become a point of wonder and reflection for the gathered community?  Is there a way to link the Scriptures with our own lives in creative ways that push us beyond traditional understandings of knowledge?  And . . . dare we trust children with such a hermeneutical activity?

Now that’s off my chest.  I need to hear your understanding of the relationship between the Arts and the Christian life!

I’ve been chewing on a particular Acts passage over the last several weeks.  It keeps coming back to me as I think about congregational life.

⁴²They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.  ⁴³Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles.  ⁴⁴All who believed were together and had all things in common; ⁴⁵they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.  ⁴⁶Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, ⁴⁷praising God and having the goodwill of all the people.  And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved (Acts 2:42-27, NRSV).

There have been numerous times when I’ve heard people proclaim “what we need to do is get back to the New Testament church!”  I’m not sure we can go back to that place.  I know we can’t go back to that historical time.  In fact, our context is shaped and influenced very differently than our friends in the Early Church.  And, unless we disengage from society, we participate in the capitalist and consumerist context, even if we may feel and believe it is at odds with our understanding of the Gospel of Jesus the Christ.

What, then, are we to make of our Acts passage?  Either we dismiss it as an unrealistic ideal or we wrestle with its implications for us.  (I opt for the latter!)  It seems to me that being a faithful exegete of Scripture requires we interpret the “truth of the Gospel” and embody it in our particular context.  The spirit of the passage suggests to us the importance of establishing a rhythm of shared life together and invites us to imagine such a way of being in the world!  Consider it: the very practice of sharing our lives together is a Gospel witness in the world.  As the very Spirit of God flows among us – in our shared life together – the Lord will add to our number those who are being saved!

The practice of establishing a rhythm of shared life together focuses our theological engagement with the biblical text and flows from the understanding that God is unleashing the Spirit as named in the chapters preceding verses.  Consider these points of convergence between the text and context:

• “Devoting ourselves to the teachings and to prayer” will shape the way we think about discipleship."

• “Devoting ourselves to the breaking of bread and to fellowship” will influence our acts of hospitality."

• “Selling our possessions and goods and distributing the proceeds to all” will color the way we think about stewardship."

• “Spending much time together in the temple and praising God” will elevate the importance of our Sabbath keeping."

• “Being held in good favor among the community” will assist us in bearing Gospel witness in this corner of the world."

Responding to God’s work among us through the gift of the Holy Spirit, to live together in this way demands action and initiative on our part.  We are called to devote ourselves; to sell; to spend time; to break bread; to live visibly in the community.  We are invited into a very peculiar way of being in the world.

As we establish a rhythm of shared life together and give ourselves over to God’s purposes, “the Lord will add to the number those who are being saved.”  Simply put, God will “build His Church.”  The good news is that we don’t build the Church!  In response to God’s initiating grace, we are call to throw open our lives to one another and live in step with God’s way of being in the world.  God has taken on the responsibility of building His Church!  Impossible?

“Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.  Amen” (Ephesians 3:20-21).

I would love to hear the ways in which your specific congregation shares life together!

One Sunday a child approached me and inquired “Pastor Jeff, why is the Food Pantry box in the corner?” Punctuating her question, she pointed to the box tucked away in a most inaccessible space in the sanctuary. She was wise beyond her years! Her jarring question left me perplexed and dumbfounded. Suddenly my rushing between services had been reduced to a slow plodding. Her question caused me, in those few minutes, to wonder whether or not our current practices were consistent with our beliefs. In that moment, my young friend questioned our community’s way of life. What an interruption in my preparation!

You see, in theory our church made regular donations to the food pantry located just blocks from the church. Yet, while the box was located in the corner it remained out of sight and out of mind. Without the box’s visual presence our responsibility became invisible and our contributions became inactive. The young child had identified a broken practice in our community. Unbeknownst to us, we were being shaped by a spirit of indifference to our neighbors.

The timing of her question invited a wonderful opportunity. The Season of Lent would begin in just two weeks. In our local congregation this journey grants us space to consider the magnitude of the redemptive work of God for all of creation. Acts of charity, devotion, contrition, and fasting tend to draw us nearer to God. In such a context, I suggested that we put the box in front of our Communion Table and invite the congregation to consider their responsibility to our neighbors. My wise, young friend agreed with the idea!

On that first Sunday we introduced the concept to the congregation and carried the box to the center of our space. Once we put it down we quickly realized that it was an odd, bulky piece of furniture sitting in the wrong place. It disrupted our walk patterns. We had to be careful not to trip over it. Simply put, it was ugly and out of place! The box’s presence, and our felt response to it, illustrated our own discomfort with the box’s message. We had become indifferent.

Despite the box’s ugliness, the People of God generously donated bags and bags of food during the following days. Overflowing with donations, the food pantry box sat in front of the Communion Table on which the elements rested for worship each week. It was a beautiful sight!

Yet, despite the beauty, a growing anxiety deepened within me. During our Lenten journey I was being transformed. God was cultivating a new way of life among us. I knew we couldn’t put the box back in the corner following the Season of Lent. Our practice of bringing food contributions changed us. In those few weeks we had become a different people. We were more aware of our neighbor’s need. I knew the box had to remain as part of our liturgical space. To put it back in the corner would mean that the change was only temporary. Needless to say, it wasn’t difficult to convince others, as they had experienced the same transformation. Indeed we were different people.

Reflecting upon that experience allows us space to consider the emergence of a couple of concepts for us. First, when we took on a new practice of bringing food for others as a regular expression of our worship the ethical implications of our worship emerged. Seeing food donations sitting next to the Communion elements helped us to live the connection between our worship and our action. The second concept erupts from the first. Our gathering around the Table of Holy Communion began to extend beyond the walls of the church. Table fellowship began wrestling its way into the homes of our neighbors. We began to see our neighbors and our neighborhood differently. This new practice created space for us to re-imagine our understanding of responsibility for one another and, more specifically, for our neighborhood. We now see both the gift and responsibility in our Table Fellowship. Two years later and that “out of place” box still sits in the middle of our space and people still bring donations.

As a local congregation we remain in conversation with our denominational identity. We’re still trying to re-imagine what makes a Nazarene congregation Nazarene. We’re still trying to figure out how to move from compassionate actions to justice. We’re still trying to evaluate if our current practices are shaping us in ways consistent with our commitment to making “Christlike disciples in the nations.” We’re still trying to imagine a shared life together which creates space for God to gestate a “holy” people!

This past week I participated in the New England District Assembly as a local church pastor. As I listened to pastoral reports and engaged in the business of the assembly, I kept wondering . . . what makes a Nazarene a Nazarene? More specifically, as I sat with delegates from my local church and leafed through the assembly booklet, I thought about the congregation I serve and wondered . . . what makes our specific Nazarene congregation Nazarene? As I looked around the assembly delegation, I wondered what makes other Nazarene congregations Nazarene? In many ways . . . it was an identity crisis!

On this district there are obvious differences of language, culture, structure, and theology among the various congregations. Such differences are amplified when one considers congregations located in approximately 155 world areas. We, the Church of the Nazarene, are a very diverse group!

Derald Wing Sue and David Sue, in their book Counseling the Culturally Diverse: Theory and Practice, share an Asian wisdom saying with their readers.

Each individual is like all other individuals.
Each individual is like some other individuals.
Each individual is like no other individual. (p. 37)

Perhaps, this wisdom saying might help Nazarenes navigate the question about our collective “Nazareneness.” Might there be ways in which all Nazarene congregations are like all other Nazarene congregations? Might there be ways in which some Nazarene congregations are like some other Nazarene congregations? Might there be ways in which each Nazarene congregation is unlike any other Nazarene congregation?

As one visits various local Churches of the Nazarene or their websites, a basic observation is that there seems to be differing points of emphasis expressed in local church mission statements. In fact, some churches do not even readily acknowledge the Nazarene connection in their name (and I’m not suggesting that just putting the name Nazarene in the church’s name makes one Nazarene). With all these differences, I’m still left to wonder . . . what makes a Nazarene congregation Nazarene?

Perhaps the answer lies in a congregation’s participation in the denomination’s “Funding the Mission” system or the purchasing of curriculum through a denominational publishing house. Perhaps this is what makes a Nazarene congregation Nazarene! (But, alas, it seems there needs to be more to one’s identity than a financial transaction.)

As I consider the people entrusted to my care in both the local church and the college classroom, I’m beginning to believe there is a particular ethos or habitus cultivated by Nazarene communities. We believe that God is making “Christlike disciples in the nations” through the vehicle of the Church of the Nazarene. It seems that our practices should be in tune with such a vision. While we may share certain affinities with other denominations we are not like all other denominations!

Let me just put it out there. As I’ve read, wondered, and reflected . . . I’ve tentatively concluded that part of what makes a Nazarene congregation Nazarene and helps to form “Christlike disciples in the nations” is a shared commitment to holiness, education, social justice and compassionate ministry and being an international church. Yet, even within these shared commitments lurk points of tension. Upward social and economic mobility, an outcome of the original commitments, may challenge our very commitment to our shared commitments once we have become comfortable with this new standard of living.

Ultimately, each local expression of the Church of the Nazarene must wrestle with how a local congregation lives out these commitments. For example, a commitment to education may mean providing a mentoring or tutoring program for children or adolescents for some congregations. For others, the same commitment might require creatively funding scholarships for students to attend college. The universal commitment to education will need to become particular in expression. The same is true for the remaining shared commitments.

As I continue to think about the task of doing local theology, would you help me re-imagine how best to create a peculiar “holiness habitus” which leads local expressions of the Church of the Nazarene to make “Christlike disciples in the nations”? I will try to always remember that your response erupts out of your particular context and brings beauty to the Church of the Nazarene!