HT: DocLarry at Lost Chord

Blake still has a job, fortunately, but his employers aren’t above never letting him live it down. Recently, the film crew of Prank 3:16 showed up with several hidden cameras and wired the church offices for sound. On the heels of the Janet Jackson bosom pinching incident, three faux FCC agents corral a sweaty, rubber-kneed Blake to explain the severity of his mistake. Claiming that radio stations around the nation have been airing his sermon slip, and since the church has been sending out emails mentioning it, they had cause to cite him for code violations to the tune of $50,000.

Feel the schadenfreude as Blake’s mouth drops open and he holds his head in his hands. This is priceless.

Prank 3:16: Blake Bergstrom

Thanks to Peggy Bohanon for the tip.

Note: if the video doesn’t play, let me know. I have an archived version I can post to the site.

I’m a white guy (well, not really, I’m Hispanic—maybe [long story]—but I think I’m white) so, naturally, I don’t move much when I sing. And when I catch myself moving, I nervously stop, shove my hands in my pockets, and look around with a sheepish grin. The Bride of Rat, though, she loves to move when she sings. She spent a year in Brazil as an exchange student and learned to enjoy dancing over there; consequently, she gets a little rhythm goin’ on during worship now and then.

Nothing wrong with that. Just don’t ask me to do it. Please. You’ll appreciate it. I promise.

But what happens when you put someone with a little rhythm, a little soul, a little energy, up on the platform to help lead worship? What happens when someone who likes to move with the music gets caught up in it, actually starts to worship and dances before the Lord like David did? What happens when that person forgets that there are hundreds or thousands of eyes watching every move (What? Those people aren’t worshiping too?)

You get voicemail. That’s what happens.

Then the minister of music gets ahold of the voicemail and you get the ultimate postmodern rebuttal: the complainants message becomes a dance mix.

Priceless.

When those who were carrying the ark of the LORD had taken six steps, he sacrificed a bull and a fattened calf. David, wearing a linen ephod, danced before the LORD with all his might, while he and the entire house of Israel brought up the ark of the LORD with shouts and the sound of trumpets. (2 Samuel 6:13-15, NIV)

I will build you up again
and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel.
Again you will take up your tambourines
and go out to dance with the joyful. (Jeremiah 31:4)

Then maidens will dance and be glad,
young men and old as well.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. (Jeremiah 31:13)

Related posts:
“When sermons go awry..”
“When sermons go awry, revisited.”
“F-bombs, poets, and church. Or, “When church goes intentionally awry!.”
“When worship goes awry..”

Update: GospelGal, a co-worker of mine, just blogged on this topic, with a whole host of really excellent questions. Head on over and interact, she said some of the stuff I was thinking about–and more–but I didn’t really have the brains to say it. That’s right, “GospelGal: thinking so you don’t have to.”

Now we have an F-bomb. On purpose. Yeah. You know the word. You’re thinking it right now. Are you sinning?

Over at CTI’s new Out of Ur blog, Leadership associate editor Sky Jethani (assistant teaching pastor at Blanchard Road Alliance Church in Wheaton, Illinois) writes the story of what happens when the F-bomb is dropped at the ecclesiastical ground zero: at church on the eve of baby Jesus’ birthday, no less.

Sares pastors an unconventional church—made clear by the name: Scum of the Earth Church in Denver, Colorado. Out of Ur relates:

Scum calls itself “a church for the right brained and the left out.” They embrace authenticity, creativity, and those who are on the margins of society.

That’s nice. But for a clearer picture of this church’s intentional iconoclastic culture, see the church’s site:

We really want to connect with people who have no interest in “church” by society’s definition. There are plenty of churches for “normal people” and we think we have a unique calling to reach out to our otherwise unreached friends. Our name is integral to that process. Whether outcast by society (e.g., punks, skaters, ravers, homeless people…) or by the church itself, many who come can identify with the name “Scum of the Earth” since they have been previously treated as such.

So, let’s dispense with the background now, and get to the story. (“What about the F-word, Rich? Tell us about the F-word!”)

Find the whole, well-written, suspenseful, enchilada over at the Out of Ur blog—which I’ll link to shortly—patience, gentle Readers!—but here’s the short version. A few days before Christmas, an associate pastor called on Sares. Poet Mary Kate Makkai, coming out of a long, prodigal-daughter struggle with her faith, wanted to read her poem during the Christmas Eve service.

One problem—well—sixteen: the poem had at least that many F-words in it.

The poem recounted Makkai’s spiritual journey back to God, and the incendiary language came from other’s mouths, describing encounters in her faith struggle. It’s a non-fictional account of what drove Makkai back to God. The emotions are raw, authentic, and powerful (allegedly—I’ve not seen the piece).

After internal debate, advice from ministry supporters, calls to two other pastors—even a consultation with Denver Seminary professor Dr. Craig Blomberg—Sares green-lighted the thermonuclear worship experience.

Predictably, the fallout went both ways. Some were deeply moved and encouraged in their faith. Some were offended and deeply hurt. Some withheld money—the most terrible cut of all. (To many pastors, anyhow.)

Read the two-part story here:

• Expletive Undeleted: Dropping the F-bomb in Church
• Expletive Undeleted 2: The F-bomb Fallout

The comments are worth the read–especially Craig Blomberg’s comment on the first post.

Update: But wait, there’s more! Part Three: The F-Bomb Poet Responds, and Part Four: The F-Bomb Pastor Responds.

With that out of the way—if you’ve returned—I now get to play blow-hard commentator.

I don’t believe in taboo words.

Yes, I’m a Christian. I’m Evangelical. I’m Pentecostal, even. But maybe I’m a little scummy and unconventional, too. There are no, in my mind, inherently evil or taboo words, in and of themselves.

But words can be rude, insensitive, aggressive, harmful, offensive, blasphemous, trivial, humorous, thoughtful, edifying, and on, and on, and on. It all depends on context, intent, effect, and culture.

I’m deeply indebted to James, the brother of Jesus, who clued-me-in that it’s not the words you use that set your life on fire with the flames of Hell, but content of your language (James 3:1-12). I’m indebted to Christ to learn what comes out of your mouth doesn’t defile you, but the content of your speech (Matthew 15:10-12). Christ also taught me that speech reveals internal affairs (Luke 6:43-45). Paul warns me to keep my conversations gracious and salty—but not in the salty-fisherman kind of way—in the seasoned, purified kind of way (Colossians 4:6). Paul warns me through Timothy, a young minister, that I must set an example for believers in his speech (1 Timothy 4:12).

But in all these passages (and there are more) we don’t have examples of specific banned language (except to not take the Lord’s name in vain—but then we have not a taboo word, but a taboo usage with trivializing effect). We have instruction about how speech reveals the heart, how speech changes our attitudes, how speech effects others.

I conclude there’s nothing wrong with Makkai’s poem in itself (with the caveat that I haven’t read it, and I don’t know her). I would have stayed to listen—but I would’ve checked to see that my four-year old son wasn’t in the sanctuary sitting with the kids contingent.

But if I were the pastor? At the church I attend, I couldn’t allow it (note: I’m not a pastor). Our church culture is not intentionally iconoclastic, like Scum’s is. We have too many seniors, too many adolescents, too many newly saved, too many spiritually unformed in our services, too many modern Midwesterners. (And maybe not enough unsaved—who wouldn’t bat an eye at this poem.) They didn’t sign up for this, and their culture and expectations are much different. The shock-and-awe fallout would so far outweigh any positive benefits of the reading that it would prove too detrimental. And I think this is true for most non-Emergent churches in America.

Romans 14:1-23 bears heavily here, and it guides my thought.

In most church gatherings, in our American church culture, the F-Bomb would not edify—no matter the literary context. Most people are far too sensitive for this, and it would simply not edify. Plus, for some new believers who are learning to sanctify their speech, a large part of their growing process is just cleaning up the expletives—which serve no good purpose and only detract from positive, moral, edifying talk. To introduce a so-called “acceptable” use of the F-word to them—in a church setting, no less—might contribute to cognitive dissonance and moral confusion over appropriate conversation. Also, children simply need to have models of speech unencumbered by culturally taboo terms. They get enough bad language at school, at home, and on TV—why confuse them with the F-word from church leaders and from the pulpit. Finally, the senior members of the congregation are quite simply not as culturally flexible in their views on what constitutes a taboo and what does not. Circuits wold be blown, and you’d have paramedics called in. The whole point of the poem would be lost.

It would, at least, be exciting. But excitement does not equal edification. That’s why most churches don’t have mosh pits and bungee jumps in the sanctuary.

I’m all for using raw, powerful language in appropriate circumstances with the correct people for the right purposes. Paul did it. When debating circumcision, he wished that the Judaizers “would go the whole way and emasculate themselves!” (Galatians 5:12). (The word here, apokopsontai, literally means “would amputate themselves,” which has a double meaning. The act Paul wishes would not only deprive these men of a precious organ, but would also excommunicate them—cut themselves off—from fellowship in accordance with their legalistic views (Deuteronomy 23:1).

In Philippians 3:8, Paul considers his accomplishments to be equivalent to dung compared to what he gained in Christ. Yes, dung. You know—the S-word. (The Greek here is skubala, but it could also be simply rendered as “refuse.” Some commentators like the word “crap.”)

But in all these usages (and they are admittedly rare in scripture), the point of the language is godly, the intent is instructive, and the usage is appropriate to the culture.

So, in the end. Hurray for Scum of the Earth. But not in my church, please. Not yet. And not on my blog.

But I’d love to read the poem. Anyone have a copy?

Related posts:

• “When sermons go awry..”
• “When sermons go awry, revisited.”
• “F-bombs, poets, and church. Or, When church goes intentionally awry!.”
• “When worship goes awry..”

Well, we’re no closer to that pipe-dream today, but I did stumble across a verbal slips you might like.

The first made by one of America’s foremost preachers, John Ortberg (teaching pastor at Menlo Park Presbyterian Church). And he personally recounts the tale in his book Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them. Here’s the story:

The church where I work videotapes pretty much all of our services, so I have hundreds of messages on tape.  Only one of them gets shown repeatedly.

It’s a clip from the beginning of one of our services.  A high school worship dance team had just brought the house down to get things started, and I was supposed to transition into some high-energy worship by reading Psalm 150.  This was a last-second decision, so I had to read it cold, but with great passion:  “Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary! Praise him in his mighty firmament!” The psalm consists of one command after another to praise, working its way through each instrument of the orchestra. My voice is building in a steady crescendo; by the end of the psalm I practically shout the final line, only mispronouncing one word slightly: “Let everything that has breasts, praise the Lord.”

A moment of silence. The same thought passes through 4,000 brains—did he just say what I think he did? In church? Is this some exciting new translation I can get at the bookstore? 

Then everybody in the place just lost it. They laughed so hard for so long I couldn’t say a thing. I finally just walked off the stage, and we went on with the next part of the service.

Eight years I’ve been teaching at that church: of all the passages I’ve exegeted and messages I’ve taught that’s the one moment that gets replayed before conferences and workshops. Over and over. 

It’s an amazing truth: being fully right barely brings as much life to other people as simply being human.

Sermons hath music that soothes the savage breast. Meanwhile, we’ve got pains in our ribs! I’ve scoured the Web looking for a clip of that sermon, to no avail. If it’s as well-referenced as Ortberg makes it sound, I’m sure it’s out there. Somewhere.

On another front, pastor Mark Doerkson cites a vivid anecdote in his sermon earlier this year:

William Willimon is pastor and a professor at Duke University, which is in North Carolina. He preaches and ministers within the United Methodist denomination. He used to write the closing page for the monthly publication that they put out. Now I have to say that Willimon has quite a sharp mind, and quite a sharp sense of humor too. And in one of his books, he compiled all the closing articles he had produced for his denomination’s monthly publication. One of the articles that he wrote for his publication was entitled “Sermon Slips.” [1] It’s an article that deals with preachers publicly putting their feet in their mouths, and in this particular article he is attempting to say that sometimes, preachers get themselves into trouble by what they say, and recovery from such errors is quite difficult.

And so Willimon cites the story of a distinguished yet unbearably self-important evangelist who was preaching to a crowd of ministers. He was attacking moral decay, particularly sexual sin in contemporary society. And so he got going on his soap-box, and this is how it went.

“I remember,” he shouted, “when we looked up to women, expected them to set the moral tone for society. We placed them on a pedestal of honor. But not anymore. Have you seen the scandalous way women dress today?” To illustrate his dubious point, he offered his former organist as an example. “Our organist, a precious young woman, came to practice for the service, dressed in a pair of short, tight, hiked-up running shorts. It was disgraceful! Walking into the Lord’s house in those skimpy tight shorts. I determined to do something about it. It was my duty as a pastor. I confronted her and asked her to come down to my study and talk about it. I shared Scripture with her and told her how those shorts looked. And I’ll tell you, in fifteen minutes I had those shorts off of her!”

Well, the whole place erupted in laughter, and try as he might, that poor pastor was never able to win them back. His meaning was lost in his poor choice of delivery.

[1] William H. Willimon, The Last Word: Insights about the Church and Ministry, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2000), pp. 23-24.

I have to wonder what kind of Google hits this post’s going to generate.

You who preach … well. If you gotta slip up, go big.

Here’s a clip below of poor high school pastor Blake Bergstrom, who tried to work his way around a bit of a tongue twister as he introduced a sermon that might have already been doomed, based on his unusual use of metaphors. As you listen, just wait. No: the “light ourselves on fire so they can watch us burn” is not the gaffe you are listening for, surprisingly, but that imagery is bad enough that he might actually have improved his sermon with an extreme Freudian slip!

Here’s the audio:

(Here’s the link if the flash player doesn’t load.)

And Bergstrom has been good enough to actually release the video, which Kevin Rossen promptly posted on his blog along with a bonus, an email response from the beleagured youth pastor himself. Here’s an excerpt:

It’s amazing how switching around one letter like an “N” can change the entire phrase!!! The look on my face after I said it is absolutely priceless. Push pause after I “let it fly” and look at the horror in my eyes…my left eye actually crosses…funny stuff!!!!!!! …

All I know to say is…”Thank God for His GRACE!!!” After talking with God about this whole thing, He let me know that when it happened… all of heaven fell to their side, they started beating the ground, with tears streaming down their face, and Lot was running around pinching himself, and all the heavenly hosts roared with laughter…just like you did!!!!

You can also watch the short video clip at iFilms if the Windows Media file doesn’t open.

Thanks to Adam Cleaveland at pomomusings for the tip.

[Also, see: “When sermons go awry, revisited.”

Plus: “Blake Bergstrom, pitched tents, and the fake FCC fine”]