People Are Expendable: My Root Struggle with Church

home-flowers

Growing up with divorced parents prompted me to become a reconciler who desires nothing more than making sure everyone gets along. Underneath this way of functioning day to day, I’ve absorbed an underlying fear of the fragility of relationships. I know that things can fall apart dramatically and horribly, and even the most basic things like your family and your home could be taken away from you, either by your family themselves or by a judge.

My two sons enjoy peace and stability where the foundational issues of their parents, their home, or their future are as solid and steady as can be. I write that without judgment of my own history, but there’s no mistaking that the things I worried about and feared as a child are completely different from anything my kids have faced so far. They have a stability that comes from knowing these relationships are steady, permanent, and secure. When I developed nervous ticks in elementary school and continue to struggle with talking fast when my social anxiety kicks in, it’s hard to communicate all of this succinctly to people who say things like, “What’s wrong with your eyes?” or “What? WHAT? I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I just spent the first 15 years of my life fearing that a judge would take away everything that I love.”

When it comes to the stability of family, our closest relationships, and our homes, their security, or lack thereof, can underpin so many of our struggles and fears. These are also some of the core issues behind why so many people struggle to commit to a church or feel like they can never return again after a church let them. Issues of control and rejection are a big part of why I still can’t attend a Catholic mass with any measure of freedom or openness.

Put bluntly: in many churches, the people are expendable.

The reasons why people become expendable vary, but the common traits between the churches where I have felt secure and able to belong vs. the ones where I have not have tapped into this deeper need to know that I am not expendable. Those who struggle to belong in churches often sense that they are in some way expendable.

Just as I feared saying the wrong thing in front of my parents, a judge, a lawyer, or a psychologist, churches can foster atmospheres of fear, suspicion, and defensiveness where everything can change after supporting the wrong doctrine or admitting to a particularly taboo action.

Extreme situations aside (such as those involving criminal activity), I wonder if our core problems in the church boil down to how welcoming we are prepared to be. Or more to the point, under what circumstances will we kick someone out of a church or make him/her/they feel unwelcome?

I have seen friends who attend fairly conservative churches with strict doctrinal statements, and these friends struggle mightily because “belonging” means they need to sign documents, take classes, and jump through various hoops in order to be a part of the group. In other words, the message is that being part of the community or even the “family” is contingent on putting a signature on a list of doctrines. If you can’t sign the doctrinal statement, then you aren’t fully a part of things.

The doctrines are essential for churches, but the people are not.

However, these aren’t problems isolated to conservative churches. Anytime a group of people gathers together to form an organization, there is an inevitable struggle to define insiders and outsiders. Those who say the wrong things in a liberal congregation can just as easily be labeled and dismissed.

As our family prepares to move to a new city, we’re going through the rather agonizing process of researching churches in the area. The stakes feel especially high since we have kids who have a very particular, and overall positive, experience of church that is noisy, joyful, and full of freedom to be themselves.

The question I keep returning to about each church is how expendable we would be if we entered into their little subcultures.

Will they value particular doctrines over us when they learn what we believe?

Will they value a quiet service over seeing my son jump around with joy in front of the band?

Will they require signatures on documents and covenants and statements over sharing in our joys and struggles?

Will they demand commitment and service before they even think of inviting us to their homes for a meal?

These tensions may appear to be false dichotomies. Perhaps reading this you think to yourself, “Our church values people AND doctrines!” That could be the case, but what happens when the rubber really meets the road? I admit that I have struggled with this myself. Where would I draw the line personally with someone? Of course there are situations where boundaries are necessary. However, what does it look like to hold out compassion and mercy for people outside of the boundaries set by our faith communities?

I have seen good people in both liberal and conservative denominations fracture when someone comes along who doesn’t fit the mold.

We all long to fit in, to become a part of the group, and to be accepted as who we are. If we make enough investments in relationships, there may even be grace for messing up or believing “the wrong thing.” I suppose the question becomes where that grace could run out. Can grace and goodwill be exhausted or negated?

I have dedicated the spirituality of my 30’s to rediscovering the God of the Bible who doesn’t turn us away or discard us but welcomes those who turn back to him. We aren’t expendable in the eyes of our loving creator. For some reason, it hasn’t been that hard to believe that he would die for us in the past before we screwed anything up. However, once we start to actually fail, mess up, disappoint people, struggle with doubts, or start to shift our beliefs, it’s easy to believe you’re expendable.

If you’ve been immersed in a church culture with clear lines you can’t cross in order to belong, it’s hard to believe that God would be any different from that. The more I immerse myself in the Psalms each day, the more I confront a God who meets us with compassion, blots out our sins, and shares unceasing steadfast love and mercy with us. I’m also convinced that believing in a God who views people as expendable will create churches where people are expendable.

A missionary friend once shared with me that we must find our homes in God, and I can’t get that image out of my mind because God wasn’t safe or a sure bet for so many years. If I was expendable to God when I couldn’t get my act together, how could I truly find my home in God? Wasn’t this the same kind of insecurity that I endured in my childhood?

Once again, the Psalms describe God as a shelter, a rock, a strong tower, and a fortress. As I reach and grasp for God, asking for help and security, I fail to look down at my foundation. When I reach out to take hold of God, I fail to realize that I’m already being held.

I often think that God acted to save me before I had a chance to mess up, but it’s also true that God saved us before we could prove ourselves worthy—worthy enough for God to keep us around.

The home I have longed for is found in God, even if I still need a home and a place where I belong here on earth.

We aren’t expendable in the eyes of God, and at the end of the day we long for a church home that reflects this. Perhaps the greatest challenge some days is to rest in the love and acceptance of God without letting that reality hinge on what those in our communities believe, do, or say.

Denomination Derby: Why You Should Join the Nazarenes

Denomination Church Logo

When it comes to this small, tightly-knit branch of the holiness movement, I’ve found that my friend Zack Hunt cares a great deal for his life-long denomination–enough to ask for several writing extensions lest he leave anything out.  In the time that I’ve known Zack, he has consistently praised the Nazarenes for what they get right and quickly recognized what needs work. The fact that he remains so passionate about this tribe after all of these years is a good reason to read on. 

 

I’ve been a Nazarene for longer than I can remember.

Literally.

Except for a few years on loan as a youth pastor in the United Methodist Church, I’ve been a Nazarene since birth. And so has most of my family. Not long after the denomination was founded on the dusty plains of Pilot Point, TX in 1908, my great-grandfather Rufus left his small Methodist church in Blountstown, FL and became a Nazarene. His exodus wasn’t a rejection of Methodism, but an embrace of the American Holiness Movement, which sought to recapture and revive the biblical call to holiness.

As a product of the Holiness Movement, the Church of the Nazarene began in the hearts and minds of Methodist and other holiness minded ministers who believed that Methodism had neglected its distinctive emphasis on the call to holiness; a call which, in the eyes of John Wesley, was foundational not only to Methodism, but the Christian life in general. That perceived neglect, combined with disagreements over various social issues led these holiness minded ministers to bring their various congregations together to create the Church of the Nazarene in hopes of renewing the Church’s passion for holiness.

Though it was very much a group effort, one man in particular is often regarded as our founder, Phineas F. Bresee. Not only did he start the first congregation with the name “Church of the Nazarene” in Los Angeles in 1895, it was, in large part, his vision that helped shape the early mission of the Nazarene Church, specifically its focus on the poor. Serving the poor was critical to Bresee’s understanding of holiness, and he never missed a chance to remind his Nazarene brothers and sisters that “the poorest of the poor are entitled to a front seat at the Church of the Nazarene.” Needless to say, I’m a pretty big fan of our founder and it is because of that loving-the-least-of-these-understanding of holiness that I remain a Nazarene today.

But enough with the history lesson…

 

What do Nazarenes actually believe?

Well, contrary to any urban legends you may have heard, we don’t handle snakes. But, theologically, we are a bit quirky. I say that because while I think most outsiders and even a lot of folks within the Church of the Nazarene would consider us to be a pretty conservative lot due to our stances on various social issues, many of our other theological positions are, comparatively speaking, fairly progressive.

Now, it’s true that historically, Nazarenes didn’t drink, go the movies, play cards, or even dance. But while grape juice is still our beverage of choice at the communion table, these days, you’ll almost certainly find yourself sitting next to a Nazarene at the movie theater and you’ll probably play Uno with a Nazarene and never realize it. But you’ll definitely know when you’re dancing next to a Nazarene ‘cause we’ll be those awkward folks on the dance floor who clearly have no idea what they’re doing. Look, we’ve only been dancing for a few years now, cut us some slack.

But like I said, in contrast to some of our social stances, we’ve got several other theological convictions that don’t fit so neatly into the cliché conservative evangelical mold. For example, we’ve proudly ordained women since the founding of our denomination. While we certainly affirm that God is the ultimate creator of the universe, we don’t really care how you choose to believe God did the creating. In other words, we’re ok with evolution. And when it comes to the Bible, we don’t affirm the total inerrancy of scripture. Though we do believe the Bible does a perfectly good job of revealing all things necessary for our salvation, if you find a historical, scientific, or some other kind of similar error in the Bible, that doesn’t really bother us because we don’t believe the Bible was created to be a textbook.

That’s not to say the Bible doesn’t play a fundamental role in our tradition. It absolutely does. And so does the theology of John Wesley. It is through the lens of our theological forefather that we read the Bible and in doing so we find ourselves confronted with an inescapable call to holiness. As we interpret it, the call to holiness means that, as Christians, we aren’t simply called to be saved, but rather to go further and model our lives as best as possible after that carpenter from Nazareth who gives us our name. That call that gave birth to our denomination, and that call continues to unite the Church of the Nazarene today.

Now, I have to be honest with you. As much as holiness unites us, what it means to be holy and how one becomes holy (especially how quickly one becomes holy, if at all in this life) is a matter of great debate in the Church of the Nazarene. Unfortunately, some folks’ understanding of holiness has led to legalism. But at its best, holiness has been defined by folks like our founder Phineas Bresee who declared that the mission of the Church of the Nazarene is “not great and elegant buildings; but to feed the hungry and clothe the naked and wipe away the tears of sorrowing, and gather jewels for His diadem.” In other words, for those of us in the Nazarene Church who follow in our founder’s footsteps, we believe that holiness is not found primarily in a list of do’s and don’ts, but in loving and caring for the least of these.

 

So, what is a worship service like in the Church of the Nazarene?

Our style of worship is pretty diverse. Depending on what Nazarene Church you’re visiting and what part of the world you find yourself in, the worship might be more on the traditional side with hymns and a little gospel music mixed in for good measure. Or the service might be extremely contemporary with more Hillsong music than this guy can handle. You might even find yourself in a Nazarene church that’s really sacramental and feels almost, not quite, but a little bit like a high church service. And if you’re really lucky – and it’s summer time – you might just end up in a good old-fashioned camp meeting revival.

Personally, I love our diversity of worship styles. I think it reflects the big tent spirit of our church that you can also see in some of the statements of faith I mentioned before. But what I really love, and what I think what a lot of my fellow Nazarenes love about the Church of the Nazarene is the sense of family we have whenever and wherever Nazarenes get together.

You see, we’re not a terribly large denomination. There are a little over two million Nazarenes in the world today, with more of us living outside the United States than within. But that relatively small size creates a wonderful sense of family. It doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re talking to; if you meet another Nazarene it’s just about guaranteed that within 5 minutes you’ll discover you both know some of the same people – or that you actually know each other somehow and just didn’t realize it. For example, when my wife and I were looking for a new church home after we moved to Connecticut, we naturally decided to visit one of the local Nazarene churches. All we really knew about the church was that it was Nazarene, and it was in Connecticut. As it turned out, after talking to the pastor we discovered not only that he was the one who had rushed my wife to the hospital at church camp when she was in middle school, but he was also her stepdad’s roommate in college.

Like I said, it’s a small Nazarene world.

But I love that about the Nazarene church because it means even when you move halfway across the country, you can walk into a Nazarene church you’ve never set foot in before and yet somehow it still feels a bit like coming home.

Now, at this point, I know what you’re thinking, “Wow, you guys sound awesome! You love the poor, you empower women, and if I get hurt at church camp I can count on my future pastor to rush me to the hospital. It’s almost too good to be true! How do I sign up??”

 

Well, I wish I could tell you that we’re as perfect and wonderful as I make us sound. But I would be lying to you if I said we always live up to the Christian perfection we preach about. There are corners of our church that are still plagued by legalism. While we’ve always ordained women in the Church of the Nazarene, we don’t always do such a great job of finding them churches to pastor. We’ve got a lot of work to do in regards to our relationship with the LGBT community. And even the familiarity and sense of family aspect I love so much, can be problematic when they result in positions of leadership being perpetually filled by the same biologically related families with familiar last names, thus stifling the critical infusion of fresh perspectives and new ideas that every church needs.

In other words, we’ve been around for more than a century, but we’ve still got a lot of work to do.

And yet, in spite of our flaws, I am still deeply proud to call myself a Nazarene. I believe in Bresee’s vision of a church dedicated to serving the poor. I believe the call to holiness is as relevant today as it was a hundred years ago. And I am incredibly grateful for a church family that has shaped my faith in profound ways and helped me become the person I am today.

 

About Today’s Guest Blogger

Zack Hunt the Defender of the NazarenesZack Hunt is an ordained elder in the Church of the Nazarene and graduate of Trevecca Nazarene University. He blogs at ZackHunt.net. You can follow him on Twitter at @zaackhunt and keep up with his blog through his Facebook page.

 

 

About Denomination Derby

This series invites ministers or volunteers with seminary training to share what they love about their denominations so that readers will have a greater awareness of and appreciation for the good things happening throughout their denominations. We’re also accepting posts where anyone can share what they love about their denomination. Search for more posts in the series by clicking on the “church” category.

We have several writers lined up to write about their respective denominations, but nominations for guest bloggers or requests for a particular denomination are welcome.

Subscribe to my RSS email list to make sure you get the posts each Friday as they go live.

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Denomination Derby: Why You Should Join the Disciples of Christ

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I know a surprising number of people in the Disciples of Christ denomination these days, especially considering that I hadn’t heard of it until I read the fantastic memoir Any Day a Beautiful Change by Katherine Willis Pershey a few years ago. I love how the Disciples of Christ folks I know are both committed Jesus-followers while also being incredibly diverse and generous. It’s a hard group to pin down in a single blog post, but Rev. Erin Wathen does a great job sharing what she loves about her denomination: 

 

It pays to have a great conversion story. Some fantastic burning bush moment when God turned your doubt upside down with unavoidable, cosmic certainty; or a drawn-back-from-the-brink story, wherein you abandoned a life of crime/addiction/certain doom for—wait for it—Jesus! If you’re a pastor and you have THAT story, then every sermon for the rest of your life has found its starting point, its center, and/or its conclusion…with your own story.

Too bad I don’t have that story. My story goes more like this: I grew up in a mainline protestant church in small town America. I did Sunday school, vacation Bible school, church camp, mission trips, and youth group, without complaint or resentment. Then I went to college and felt no impulse, whatsoever, to go to church on the weekends. When I got out of college, I started going to church again—different town, same denomination. And like, 5 minutes later, I found myself in seminary classes going, ‘what the hell…?’ I mean, I loved church. I had always loved church. But how it got me on the hook for life, I’ll never know. Maybe it was the Bible school cookies? Or the Pension Fund. Whatever it was, it was no flaming conversion.

The church of my raising was the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, and that’s where I’ve served a decade-plus of ordained ministry. The Disciples grew out of the Stone Campbell movement in the early 1800’s. The early founders sought an alternative to the divisive denominationalism of that time. They wanted a way to live faith in community without “tests of fellowship,” and with “no creed but Christ.” It was a frontier journey, in more ways than one. Most literally, it was a fellowship that grew out of rural, Central Kentucky—which was the very edge of all that lie ‘west’ of civilized America. But it was also a wilderness outside of polity and strict doctrine. This was to be a place where all were welcome to receive communion; all would be received in baptism; and all could worship together, even if they did not entirely agree on the letter of the law.

How we measure the success of that original movement, these days, is highly subjective. On the one-hand, 200 years of shifting social paradigms have led to several splits. What started as a single, unified church is now 3 different denominations; sometimes we’re speaking to each other, sometimes not. Depends on the day (and what part of the country you’re in). At the same time, the Disciples of Christ, on the whole, can still point to those founding tenets of unity in Christ and freedom of belief at the heart of who we are as church together.

But with all that freedom comes the occasional identity crisis. And what, really, has been a centuries-long marketing nightmare.

“What does your church believe?” a newcomer might ask. “Well…” we venture… “Depends on who you’re talking to. And where you are on the map. And who made the coffee this morning, among other things.”

Most of our congregations affirm and empower women for leadership; but a few still don’t. Some are welcoming of LGBT people; some aren’t. Some embrace a progressive understanding of scripture; but not all. Some of our churches use gender-inclusive language for God, avoid violent imagery of crosses and blood, and are comfortable hearing about social issues from the pulpit. Others… you see where I’m going with this.

When everybody is welcome, doubt is affirmed, questions are encouraged and nobody wants to tell anybody else what to believe… then what in the world do you put on the brochure?? The website? The t-shirt?

True to those ideals of our founders, authority lies within the local congregation. We handle our own money, own our property, hire (and fire) our pastors, select our own leaders, and are not bound by the demands of any hierarchy. Our mission is expressed from the ‘bottom up,’ in that churches support the larger structure for ministry—and not the other way around. That means the local church can hone its own mission statement, set its own vision, find its own way to serve and establish presence in the community… We are guided by the same basic principles, but not bound by them.

It is both wonderful and maddening, all this freedom.

It means we don’t always know how to sit together when we disagree. It means we struggle to navigate the racial tensions, present in the world outside our walls, when we come together within. It means we don’t always know how to share our message ‘out’ there, when we can’t always get it together ‘in’ here. It means it can be hard to focus our energy and our resources to affect real change in the world… when everybody’s idea of ‘change’ is broadly varied, but deeply valued.

Oh, and worship music. Don’t get me started.

The current Disciples identity statement says that “we are a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.” And the world, as we know it, is indeed fragmented. It is complicated. And the not having of easy answers is, yes, a marketing problem. Because easy answers, proven growth models, and colorful packaged programming is what most folks are in the market for.

Disciples really suck at all that. We always have.

But what we do offer—and always have—is a safe place to live with all that ambiguity. A place where people worship together (however imperfectly) and try to organize for good. A place where ‘movement’ of the collective body, and the Spirit, are valued over any statement of faith; and where the communion table, at the center of worship and community, calls us back to a shared belief in Christ’s love: embodied within us, and made flesh for the world.

My own faith story was no flaming conversion… But it was a slow, steady certainty that I belonged at that table. At the center of everything, I had a place, and I had people. And for all that we embody different expressions of faith; for all the places I have moved; and for all the turns our collective journey has taken; that table, and the people around it, are the same wherever you go.

Put that on the brochure. It’s the best thing we’ve got.

 

 

About Today’s Guest Blogger

profileRev. Erin Wathen is the Senior Pastor of Saint Andrew Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, in the Kansas City area. She is originally from Kentucky, and also served a church in Phoenix, Arizona for 7 years. She and her husband, Jeremy, have two kids, ages 4 and 6. Erin blogs for the Patheos interfaith network. Read more at  http://www.patheos.com/blogs/irreverin/

 

 

 

 

About Denomination Derby

This series invites ministers or volunteers with seminary training to share what they love about their denominations so that readers will have a greater awareness of and appreciation for the good things happening throughout the church. We’re also accepting posts where anyone can share what they love about their denomination. Search for more posts in the series by clicking on the “church” category.

We have several writers lined up to write about their respective denominations, but nominations for guest bloggers or requests for a particular denomination are welcome.

Subscribe to my RSS email list to make sure you get the posts each Friday as they go live.

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Denomination Derby: Why You Should Join the Christian Reformed Church

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You hear a lot of folks these days talk about “reformed theology.” Sometimes reformed theology is mentioned with a sneer or an eye roll. Sometimes reformed theology is given a thumbs up, as if it was the greatest thing since Calvin’s Geneva (minus the burning of “heretics” of course). For all of this confusion about what it means to be “reformed,” we have the humble little Christian Reformed Church that continues to surprise me with its vitality and life. Today Paul Vander Klay, who has the appropriate last name for this topic to say the least, shares what he loves about the Christian Reformed Church: 

 

If Ed’s “Denomination Derby” is conceived of as a competitive display of self-promotion the Christian Reformed Church (CRC) will certainly lose. The CRC is fabulously poor at self-promotion. Let me explain.

Unless you’re from Western Michigan or have visited Calvin College you may not have ever heard of the Christian Reformed Church. The CRC has about a quarter million quiet members scattered in around 1000 congregations three quarters of which are within a couple hundred miles of Grand Rapids Michigan. This is not a recipe for church market success in North America.

While you may never have heard of the CRC or know anyone from it you’ve probably heard of a number of her famous sons (yes, sorry, they’re mostly boys). If you’re young and Reformed and you like to read old dead white guys you might recognize the names of Ned Stonehouse, Cornelius Van Til, Geerhardus Vos and Louis Berkhof. If you’re into newer philosophical books you’ll probably recognize Alvin Plantinga, his theologian brother Neal,  Nicholas Wolterstorff, Richard Mouw and Lewis Smedes.  Church growth lovers or haters of course will know Bill Hybels who grew up CRC.

One of our more famous rebellious sons is Paul Schrader who went on to explore his roots in his 1979 film Hardcore, not quite “safe for the whole family” but yet insightful. Many like him who leave the CRC have trouble fully leaving it behind. Ours is a thick culture.

You might notice that a bunch of your books come from Zondervans, Bakers and Eerdman’s publishers based in Grand Rapids, and if you’re really an evangelical Bible wonk you might know that the NIV translation project began in the Christian Reformed Church in one of her 4 colleges. All of this should indicate that books and education in the CRC is a very big deal. This is why its most famous conference with this crowd is the biannual Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College, an institution founded to train preachers for our churches and teachers for our Christian schools.

Seeing this partial list of notables and accomplishments might lead you to believe that the CRC is a bookish clan and you’d be half right. The other thing the CRC majored in was farming, mostly dairy. The CRC’s parent/cousin, the Reformed Church of America was planted by Dutch city folk while the country folk of the Netherlands who left in the 19th and 20th centuries mostly joined the CRC.

“Reformed” has recently been tied to “young” and “restless” and too often “angry” or “cranky”. A lot of CRC folks have watched this new wave of mostly Presbyterians (more cousins) and it has brought up painful memories. The CRC used to be a lot more cranky about a lot of things but it brought a lot of pain. The most recent painful fight was over women in church leadership. It started in the 70s and lasted about 25 years. When CRC finally permitted it, about 70,000 people left. For a denomination where many folks are related to you, where you play “Dutch Bingo” trying to find mutual relatives, or who were your school mates (CRC folks start lots of Christian schools), these splits are personal and the wounds heal slowly. This is making the CRC fairly avoidant when it comes to what looks like the next big fight over same sex marriage.

If you visit a CRC you’ll probably find a rather shy but friendly group. The pastor will likely be well educated but cautious and not flashy or loud. CRC people have been called the “Jewish Hobbits” of American Christianity. Many like myself actually have Jewish roots back to the Netherlands. We’ve also been compared to Jews because of our comfort with the Old Testament. We’re kind of like Hobbits because we mostly keep to ourselves and can tend to be stubborn. The real difference between CRC folk and Hobbits is that we’re abnormally tall.

What I’m most proud of in the CRC, and why I stay, is that we as a denomination work really hard at trying to be faithful to God while also trying to engage our world. It takes a stubbornness about the Bible and the church, practical wisdom learned in a real zip code and a courage to doubt yourself to try to hold it all together. We read, think, and write a lot but aren’t usually too quick to grab onto something new. We’d rather wait, ponder and pray for a while before making a big change. This usually bothers both sides of a fight. We’re never as conservative as some want, and never as liberals as others demand. Again, think of Hobbits.

I won’t be so bold as to try to sell our church to you. That’s usually just not our way. We love having new folks come and join us. Jamie Smith is one of our more famous recent joiners. He seems to be carrying on in our bookish, philosophical tradition. So visit Calvin College for the Festival or a CRC in some non-conspicuous corner someplace. We’re proud about our institutions and accomplishments, but don’t be surprised if we’re a bit shy and slow about some things. Be patient with us and you might find you’ve made a thoughtful friend.
About Today’s Guest Blogger:

head shot w2Paul Vander Klay: I’m a third generation CRC minister. I grew up in my father’s racial reconciliation church in Paterson NJ. I was a missionary in the Dominican Republic and currently pastor a small, multi-everything congregation in Sacramento CA. I love to read, write, and enjoy the interesting people God has made. I blog at http://leadingchurch.com.

 

 

About Denomination Derby

This series invites ministers or ministry volunteers with seminary training to share what they love about their denominations so that readers will have a greater awareness of and appreciation for the good things happening throughout the church. Search for more posts in the series by clicking on the “church” category.

We have several writers lined up to write about their respective denominations, but nominations for guest bloggers or requests for a particular denomination are welcome.

Subscribe to my RSS email list to make sure you get the posts each Friday as they go live.

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