The Spit Bucket

Ghostwriting for Jesus

I just met heard through the Christian grapevine that one of my favorite mega pastor authors uses a ghostwriter. I know it’s true, because the person I corresponded with was his ghostwriter!
Ghostwriting isn’t banned from Christian publishing circles, it's actually quite common. While you may never attended a book signing by Cecil Murphy, you might have read several of his books.
Around the time of Y2K, when everyone was hoarding batteries and bottled water, thinking the end of the world was coming, there  was a lot of bad press about ghost writers in the Christian market.  Everyone from Billy Graham to Bill Hybels was accused of being anything but the authentic Christian they  write about.
But I’m not blogging to expose the ghostwriter,  I'm going to  commend him or her.
Ghostwriters in many respects are the brains behind the almighty Sunday Morning OZ, telling us to  “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!” 
They let someone else get credit for their talents, keeping attention off themselves.
Being a ghostwriter of sorts– a transparent servant of God --is really what it’s all about.. In all of our efforts, the story of our lives should point to our Creator, not the man in the mirror.
This doesn’t just apply to those who write Amazon best sellers, but to our church communication efforts. Whether it’s a newsletter, sermon, special program or a fund raising letter we pen for someone else, the focus shouldn’t be on us or our cool church identity. That new logo you painstakingly designed should be  transparent, so the attention goes to God. When our efforts are reduced to wanting credit for a cool mailing or outreach event, we will never get the results we crave. Egos have insatiable appetites.  Only when we don’t care about who gets credit are big goals achieved.
So my advice for your next email blast shouting a cool outreach event? Learn a lesson from your favorite unknown authors.  If it connects the reader to God, you’ve done good. If all eyes are on your design skills  or the hairstyle of your new rock star seeker pastor, you’ve just been busted.

Church Identity Crisis

Has church marketing gone too far?
For all of you out there who think your church logo is the coolest thing since the Nike swoosh, I beg you to put down that Seth Godin book for a moment and read on.
While it’s cool that church websites have evolved from purple backgrounds with gold fonts, that our Sunday morning slide shows are worthy of academy award nominations, and our Sunday morning bulletins are almost too cool to doodle on, have we  gone  too far?
Are we taking more pride in our church identity than we are with belonging to Christ?
Sometimes I think so, usually after attending faith based conferences when I'm snubbed by  a member of  church recently mentioned in Outreach magazine.
It’s no longer enough to be a Christian. One has to be a PoMo Christian. A member of Mega Church or the First United Church of Starbucks. Or attend a church where the pastor sports a soul patch and trendy  frames (even though his vision is 20/20).  We are proud to be labeled a Christian as long as we’re not mistaken for someone who meets at church down the street with the marquee sign  teens vandalize.
While church marketing is important—it is a different animal than consumer marketing. I’ve learned a few advertising tricks over years, mostly on how to dial up the interest of parity products. Bland bran flakes need a cool identity to make up for lack of taste. But  God? I think not. We need His help, not the other way around.
The moral of this post? If our ministry marketing efforts boomerangs attention to the Photoshop wiz in our church’s communication department instead of the Big Guy in the Sky, we’ve missed our mark. It’s not about us, it’s about Him.

Eye Heart NOLA

Rebuilding New Orleans, Still.
Is that powdered sugar  from a biegnet on your chin or drywall dust?  My husband and I decided to do a Matt Deed (in honor of his recently deceased brother). A Matt Deed is an act of kindness that stretches you in ways that yoga poses cannot. But that’s how we ended up going to New Orleans and working on Katrina rebuilding projects.
We joined work crews from Urban Impact at Castlerock Church in Center City.
Anyway, when we told many of our Windy City friends about our plans,  many had the same response, “They haven’t cleaned that city up yet?”
Ya see, in Chicago, we’re too busy complaining about potholes and the Cubs to think about anyone else.
So for a week, we joined crews with Castlerock Church and Urban Impact.
While the biegnets in the French Quarter were as tasty as ever, some parts of New Orleans looked like time has sat still since the fall of 2005. These aren’t the pictures you peep at a tourism website. The spray painted “search circles” were still on the front of homes in the 7th Ward, along with rusty water lines from where the flood waters settled. While rehab efforts were happening, they would be as sporadic as a four leaf clover amongst the weeds: one freshly painted rehabbed house would be nestled between an abandoned home and a recently bull-dozed apartment complex. So many neighborhoods were struggling for identities—should we be rebuilding or re-locating?
Our week-long project was  rebuilding a small church, The Rock Of Ages, in the 7th Ward. For the most part, it was a “feel-good, warm-and-fuzzy” experience, the stuff that makes up McDonald’s commercials and political speeches. We met FEMA trailer survivors, people who were rescued from their attics, families who lost everything but their hope. One man said to us, “It’s easier for the poor to survive than the rich. We already know how to make it on nothin’. The rich do not.”
But working on Katrina Rebuilding also brought up questions that you’re afraid to have. Ones about social injustice, government flub ups, and just how many germs lurk in a port-potty?
But my biggest question dealt with noticing an able body man who sat across the church every day, just watching us and nursing his forty ounce.
I wanted to scream out, “Hey—why aren’t you helping?  This is YOUR neighborhood—and only MY vacation! Shouldn’t I be the one sipping an umbrella drink watching YOU?”
That’s when it hit me that while we can rehab a neighborhood, only God can rehab the heart, my heart included.
All in all, it was an eye-opening experience. But now I’m back in Chicago, where the extent of my problems consist of rush hour delays and over starched shirts from the cleaners. But I refuse to let New Orleans leave our minds and hearts.
If you have the chance to help with the Katrina Rebuilding project, by all means do it. Send a team or send a few bucks.  Peep our project director’s blog here. Or put a word in to the Big Guy for those helping out.