August 23rd, 2010
C
hildren are one of God’s most precious gifts. At the same time, they are one of God’s cruelest. Why is it the cherub in our midst loves more, gives more and forgives more . . . and what is it about a child’s spot-on question regarding our actions that halts us dead in our tracks? Or worse yet . . . why does their mimicking of us make our heart stop? It is because in their innocent words and actions we are condemned.
In spiritual things, it is the same. When a child says he loves God, it is complete. When a child prays, her prayers are genuine and real. When a child gives, he gives without regard to consequence. When a child asks a question, an answer is expected. When a child reads the sacred scriptures, she reads as if it is a letter from a beloved one is being read. And when they come to church, children expect something to happen.
One can play devil’s advocate here and suggest a child’s totally sold out approach to a relationship with God is possible because of innocence . . . and lack of awareness of evil in the world. Yet, I have never met a child who is unaware of evil in the world, maybe not full extent of the horrors of evil we know exists, but to a child evil is still evil [just ask any parent who has comforted their child from the monsters under the bed or the bully at school].
So, here’s my thought . . . if the questions and actions of children convict us, why don’t we change? If children are completely sold out in their relationship with God, loving God completely, praying with a real and genuine heart, giving without regard to consequence, asking questions, reading the sacred text as if it were from a beloved and coming to church expecting something to happen, should we not be following their lead? “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” (Luke 18: 17-NRSV)
Katrina and Tony Brooks are pastors of North Broad Baptist Church, Rome, Georgia.
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July 28th, 2010
I just finished reading Susan Sparks’ Laugh Your Way to Grace. The premise of the book is the need for and the function of humor in spirituality. Sparks presents the notion that all human gatherings can be classified into two groups: living room gatherings or den gatherings.
Growing up we had both—only our den was called a family room. No one EVER went into the living room without permission. No one took food in there. There was no running, no loud voices, and definitely no fun unless the king of the castle [my dad] authorized it WHEN special guests arrived. The room was always kept spotless. The family room on the other hand was where we lived and played and ate and harassed each other. There we tickled and laughed and cried together. We didn’t need permission to have an “outburst” if an outburst was necessary, and special guests were invited into the life that was being lived in the room.regardless of the room’s order.
In her book, Sparks suggests that as evangelicals we have delegated worship to a living room gathering. In order to “protect” the reverence we define as proper worship behavior we enter worship spaces with hushed tones. There is no running, no laughter, no loud voices, and no food. Our worship places are always spotless. Ironically, we worship the living God who created running, laughter, loud voices, food, and “outbursts” in a living room setting where these things are banned. Her question is: what would happen if we brought worship into the den/family room? How would the life of our churches change if we treated our worship spaces the same way we treat our den/family rooms?
Thought provoking questions.
Here’s my dilemma. I like aspects of both rooms. There are times when I want quiet and order. My spirit needs hushed tones in my worship. There are other times when laughter and chaos play and spontaneity order my worship. I don’t think I am alone here.
So here are my questions: is there a way to design a worship space that invites aspects from the den/family room and living room? Can we create worship entrance points that have hushed features and live out loud features?
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July 13th, 2010

Sunday, June 27, was a special day for a small rural congregation in south central Virginia. Colby was being dedicated, and a potential intentional interim was preaching a “trial” sermon. The congregation needed an intentional interim desperately, and this sermon was his “test.”
In all fairness, I was glad not to be in his shoes. Any intentional interim worth his/her salt has skills in aspects of the intentional interim paradigm other than preaching. True, some are gifted proclaimers, but most have skills elsewhere. Yet for this man preaching was his “test.”
About mid-sermon my mind left “the moment.” Years flew by, and I remembered my first sermon in the same pulpit in which this man stood. The pastor had chosen the text and the title, and I was nervous. Looking around the room I spotted Tommy, Skipper, and Ed.
Tommy was leaning over the edge of the pew into the center aisle. Skipper was sitting on the “deacon” pew in the back of the church, and Ed was in the balcony manning the sound system. Each man was grinning ear to ear—the kind of grin a daddy has when his child does something spectacular.
Drawing strength from their grins, I took a breath and launched into my sermon. Throughout my time these men kept their grins. When I stumbled they put on their “Come on . . . we know you can do it” expression, willing me to continue. Truth be told they prayed me through and loved me through my first “test.”
The feeling of love and the sight of one of these men returned me to the present and for a moment the holiness of it all brought tears to my eyes.
Sunday, June 27, I left the small rural congregation in south central Virginia with no major epiphanies, no exegetical questions, and no unlocked theological mysteries. What I did leave with was a deep gratitude for three men who unapologetically prayed—and loved—this preacher through her first “test.” I also left with a powerful conviction: Everyone needs a Tommy, a Skipper, and an Ed.
Katrina Brooks is co-pastor of North Broad Baptist Church, Rome, Georgia.
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May 4th, 2010
Last week we buried my friend Doug. Doug was a modern day renaissance man. He knew many things, could do many things, and was his own man. Over the years, Doug infused Native American spiritual practices, love for classic rock music, and a green thumb into his Christian life. The result was an unorthodox, organic relationship with his God.
When we met in our office to plan Doug’s service, the family had many ideas. Some Doug requested. Others the family desired. The communion table was to hold a bonsai tree, a small wooden box with Doug’s ashes, and a boulder [Doug was prone to wearing this boulder to punctuate special occasions]. Ministers were to robe. “Amazing Grace” and “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee” along with a video tribute were to be in the order of worship. The practice of the family entering the sanctuary following the ministers and the offering of the committal collect found in The Book of Common Prayer needed to be included. Likewise time for congregational sharing about Doug, a pre-service video set to classic rock and the Rolling Stones classic “You Can’t Always get What You Want” needed to be included in the order.
Did I mention Doug was an eclectic man? Did I mention that while he loved traditional, formal worship Doug and his God rocked out as he molded and shaped things with his hands? How does one pay tribute . . . authentic tribute to such a life?
In God’s grace and mercy what resulted was probably the most meaningful service I have officiated to date. Somehow the ebb and flow of the service lead itself to inspire ten plus students Doug had over the years to share how “Ballentine” changed their life. Doug’s co-worker and daughter-in-law spoke of Doug’s integrity and commitment to teaching students to think. They spoke of his midlife career change to teaching, his ability to engage people of all ages in many disciplines, his knowledge and his love of life . . . and family. After the students spoke, I read a letter from Doug’s widow and the video tribute was played. The service concluded with the offering of the committal collect, transitional words, and the playing of the Rolling Stones version of their classic.
Can The Book of Common Prayer and the Rolling Stones be used in designing a funeral? Yes, but the placement in the order of worship is critical. You have to create a flow and make sure to insert elements in a pattern that does not distract from the whole. You must know where you want the service to end and plan how you want the service to get there.
As I watched the faces in the congregation I could not help but weep. Participants of all ages rocked out with huge smiles on their faces and tears flowing. The song punctuated Doug’s life perfectly. True, a few shook their heads or looked down in obvious displeasure but others “remembered Doug” in an unorthodox, organic way. See . . . as unorthodox as it sounds the Rolling Stones classic was the perfect conclusion to this memorial service for the song we find these words “you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime you just might find you get what you need,” which by the way preaches every time.
Katrina Stipe Brooks is co-pastor of North Broad Baptist Church in Rome, Georgia.
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