Matt Chandler - Worthy

If you have your Bibles, go ahead and grab them. Matthew chapter 2 is where we’re going to camp out. In fact, I’ll just keep coming back to this part of the narrative over and over again today. I’ll reference a couple of other texts, but primarily we’ll just stay here in Matthew chapter 2. While you’re turning there, I want to turn our attention to just a little bit of focused prayer time here at the beginning of our service, and from there we’ll dive into what I hope is the type of Christmas message that’s helpful, as opposed to the kind that’s not.

About three or four years ago, I was compelled through the study of the scriptures to understand that one of the things Christ has purchased for us is the death of homogeneity. The death of the lines around ethnic and socioeconomic status that create subcategories of people. Out of Ephesians 2, in particular, although throughout the Bible, what you see is that what God desires is to build a New Covenant Community of Faith that isn’t defined by the lines that have always been woven into human history. In fact, he goes so far as to say in Ephesians chapter 2 that the dividing wall of hostility has been torn down, and that he has created something new. What Christ has done by the shedding of his blood is create a new man. The Greek word there, you may not care, is «kainos;» it means brand new. So not a 2015 Ford Explorer, but a Model T—like I’m doing something that hasn’t been done before.

Compelled and driven by the word of God, looking out at the predominantly white faces of the parishioners of The Village Church, I decided that I was going to begin to press and move us toward a more Revelation chapter 7 congregational feel for The Village Church. So, I started grinding on that end, seeking to understand and lean into the relationships I have with African-American men and women, asking, «Help me understand this; I don’t get it.» And let me tell you, you want to talk about awkward conversations—being a white guy, and I am a white guy; the whiteness is strong in me. I grew up in a white family with white friends in a predominantly white part of the world. I leaned in and said, «Give me something to read; help me understand. I don’t get it; please.»

Some of them got offended by my questions; others began to engage in dialogue with me and help me understand. There’s been nothing in 20 years of pastoral ministry that has felt as unwinnable as throwing your hat in this ring. And I’ll tell you why—because not all, but some of our white congregants go, «Do you not know where you live, bro? Where do you think these people are going to come from? I mean, have you seen the census information? You’re in Flower Mound.» What am I wanting? I’ll tell you what I’m wanting: a gospel work three exits down from us. I want socioeconomic lines to fade so that the working poor and those under the working poor feel at home, welcomed, loved, and part of our Covenant Community of Faith.

Then, I’ve got some, not all, of our African-American members who think I don’t push hard enough, and if I was serious, I would push harder, with total disregard for how many whites would have to be cut off from a celebration of this to get there. So from both the left and the right, I’ve been incessantly pounded by people. This is the only area of life and doctrine where I take this kind of beating. Yet, undeterred, I stand here as brazen today as I’ve ever been.

Now, I’ve been scheming lately on how to help us serve better. In fact, on January 11th, which is our elder-led prayer night here at Flower Mound, I’ve invited Joe Fields from New Beginnings Church—a large African-American church here in our area—to come join us that night to pray as we consider ethnic lines and what to do about the obvious missing of one another in this country. This wound, which goes back hundreds of years, has not healed. If you’re watching TV, this doesn’t look any different than the 60s. For all of you who are aware, it’s like we’ve forgotten progress. We’ve been on a treadmill, going nowhere, and we’re obviously missing one another. I said, «Hey, come pray with us, Joe. Let’s mingle our people with the hope that we’ll understand more fully.»

Then, this past week, because of the platform of this church and what God has done here, I was invited to Memphis, Tennessee, to be part of a panel on ethnic diversity and the fight for ethnic diversity among Evangelical leaders. We were at the Lorraine Motel at the Civil Rights Museum, discussing with a who’s who of Evangelical leaders how to think about this, how to engage it, and how to get past certain hurdles. I came home filled with hope that progress is being made, that we are establishing clear lines for communication, and seeking ways to move forward.