Slapping a new coat of paint on the same old conventions is not contextualization. We need to be sure we’re contextualizing for the context to which we’re called- the ones in which we find ourselves. It won’t do to make your church look like someone else’s. You can’t just steal somebody else’s sermon. You can’t pipe in a great speaker who doesn’t know your context. You must be an expert in the people to whom you minister.

If you don’t do the missionary work of contextualization, you still can grow your church. But it won’t belong to the culture in which it’s planted. In order to be discipled in the foreign system you set up, people will have to first be converted to your culture- the one you imported from Grapevine, Texas, or Minneapolis, Minnesota, or Seattle, Washington. Then, you’ll find yourself having to train people to interact with the culture from which you’ve extracted them.

Which is the point, really- contextualization should be worked into the essence of every expression of Christianity. It is the key to indigenous church, and it is the key to communicating the gospel in a way that connects with your audience.

So you should wear cool glasses. If you have hair, you should either spike it up or grow it out. If you can handle a neckbeard, that’d be good. Do your best to squeeze into skinny jeans. Find a keffiyeh, and wear it even when it’s 90 degrees out. Watch Lost and 30 Rock. Talk about when Grey’s Anatomy jumped the shark. Become a vegan, or at least a part-time vegetarian. Listen to hip-hop, indie bands, alt-country, and  Drink fair trade coffee-with organic soy milk, of course. You also need to ride a fixed-gear bike, smoke a cigars, drink microbrewed beer, and play hours of video games. Get a Mac, and talk about how long it’s been since you even tried using a PC. Oh, and an iPhone. You definitely need an iPhone.

Why? Contextualization, of course. But to which context?

My point is this: contextualization isn’t looking like the culture; it’s having lived in the culture. It’s how you think and communicate after putting yourself in someone else’s shoes for a while. Knowing the way it feels. Understanding how people treat you when you’re one of them. The experience is what makes you able to translate the gospel into a (sub)culture in a way that makes sense to the people who live there.

If you’re ministering to the homeless, you might try spending a night (or a month) on the street. If you’re in a community of Arabs, you should consider praying 5 times a day, seasoning your conversation with, “God willing,” and skipping the pulled-pork sandwich. Not to fool them into thinking you’re the same as them. You’re not. But until you’ve put yourself in their shoes, you really don’t have any idea what life it like for them- what’s important to them, what speaks to them, how they see you as an outsider.

Lugging around a camera doesn’t make you an artist, but it might help you understand one. Understanding one is key to communicating with him. Communicating with him is the key to sharing the gospel with him in a way that he can understand and respond to.

As He sent them out on a short-term mission trip, why did Jesus tell His disciples not to carry any extra clothes and not to greet anyone along the way? That doesn’t seem very practical, does it? What if they had a great opportunity to witness to the guy sitting next to them on a red-eye out of Denver? So much of what Jesus told His followers to do (and not to do) just doesn’t make sense in our world. It almost always runs counter to our understanding of what might be the best way to get things done.

Yet most of what we do as believers tends to be determined by our pragmatism. We justify nearly all that we do with, “Hey, it’s working.” We consider efficiency and volume to be stewardship issues. From video-venue churches to mass marketing campaigns to building programs, churches are constantly searching for ways to make the biggest impact, to reach the greatest number of people, and to get the most bang for the buck. I believe that these are human values, not Kingdom ones. What if doing what seems to “work” in the short run is hurting us in the long run? What if giving away iPods and paying people to come to church has long-term negative effects for the church? What if our methods actually change our message?

In the next few posts, I’m going to explore some of the ways that the (particularly Western) Church has traded in God’s best for “what works.” Specifically, I want to look at the way we practice being the church, our efforts at church planting, and our theology of mission.

NEXT: The Gaps

In a really good story, you never see it coming. Maybe the seemingly objective narrator is actually the protagonists’ long-lost uncle. Maybe it turns out that the hero was dead the whole time but didn’t know it. Whatever it is, there is a unique sensation when the plot twist hits you. For a brief moment, before it all becomes clear, you feel sort of giddy and light-headed.

You realize that the author had laced the story with clues about the dramatic shift. Upon a second reading, it seems so obvious. Of course the support-group addicted insomniac and the charismatic anarchist cult leader were one and the same!

God becoming a little Hebrew baby. Is a brilliant twist to the story of His interaction with humanity. With Jesus, it all suddenly makes sense. So it isn’t about being born to the right parents or being a good person! There is hope! God know what He was doing all along!

And the clues were so, obvious!  How did we miss it? Beautiful in its simplicit, the Christmas story is about divine temperance. It’s about the mystery of His ultimate plan.

Merry Christmas.

Coke doesn’t taste the same in every country, though. They adjust the flavor based on local tastes. In Europe, the cola is less sweet than its American counterpart. In Thailand, from what I understand, it’s much sweeter and less fizzy. The one thing that keeps the soft drink recognizable around the world is the familiar red label.

Well, mostly red. Years of market research and competition with Pepsi (and about a hundred others) had led the makers of Coke (I’m thinking these were committee decisions) to gradually change the packaging. The idea was probably to make the brand appear “hip” and “cool.” They added swooshes and swirls, bubbles, gradients, coupons, and sports logos. Soon, the can blended in with all the other soft drinks and energy drinks vying for the consumer’s attention.

Last summer, Coke got back to the basics. They reintroduced the familiar red can. Solid red with white lettering and the “dynamic ribbon” graphic they’ve used since 1969. The change finally made it to Western Europe last month. I recently read an interview of The Coca-Cola Company’s European President. When asked about the change, he replied, “We’re Coke. We’ve been around forever. We’re not fooling anyone with flashy graphics. We’re proud of our product, and the new (0ld) look represents that.”

Consumers raved over the return to the classic look. They are finding beauty in the simplicity, and the value in the recognition of the brand’s heritage.

Of course, there’s a lesson to be learned here. Whenever we talk about contextualization of Christianity, some people assume we mean dressing it up to look like the culture. We don’t. We mean giving people the essential ingredients of the faith, and allowing them to prayerfully determine the formula. The packaging doesn’t really matter so much.

But what we’re finding is that Christianity, like Coke, has been around a while. Not everyone is a fan, but most have had a taste if it. We’re not introducing the gospel, we’re reintroducing it. This means that there’s a long history to acknowledge. The challenge is to identify with our heritage in a way that allows us to overcome our failures.

Remember “New Coke?”

To me, the gospel is God’s story. It is the summary of who God is and how He normally interacts with people. It is the knowledge that evokes our response to salvation. But to me, the gospel is much more than information. It is a person. Life in Him is beautiful and terrible at once. It has a power and a profundity that goes beyond just the notion. I believe it must be experienced to be believed.

This means that despite what our training, evangelistic materials, and denominational leaders say, the gospel is not always “Good News.” Sure, in the grand scheme of things, the fact that God made a way to relationship with Him through Jesus is good news indeed. But for many people, the gospel isn’t “Good News” at all. For them, it is bad news; that they might not have everything figured out, that all that they’ve struggled to accumulate and achieve is worthless.

The gospel is not, in my opinion, the “minimum” that must be believed in order for someone to be saved. It is not a set of principles, concepts, laws, or “truths.” The gospel does not save, it is only a description of the possibility of salvation. It is not something that we can ever finish sharing; there is no end to mark the completeness of it’s presentation.

So the questions remain: “What is the gospel?” and “Are we talking about the same thing? In an age where we’ve reduced our faith to an objective soundbite summary of supposedly life-changing information, what are we talking about?

What’s the gospel to you?

Many well-intentioned church planters and evangelists become so distracted by the sin around them, that they lose sight of the people. Their message changes from “Good news! There is hope in Jesus!” to the familiar “Bad news! You’re going to hell, sinner!” Of course, they’re right. Sin separates us from the Creator. Repentance is the vital response to salvation. I can see how it could be tempting to focus on preaching against sin.

But lost people don’t need to stop sinning. They need Jesus. In fact, without Jesus, lost people are incapable of curbing their appetites for sin. They are slaves to it. At best, they could learn to exchange the unacceptable sin in their lives for the hidden, “hey, nobody’s perfect” kind that is more acceptable in Christian circles. Sin is in our nature. It is the jail cell we’re all born into. The only escape is new life in Christ.

Besides, even if unbelievers could (they can’t) modify their behavior to match (outwardly, at least) a lifestyle becoming of a Christian, it wouldn’t matter. Not sinning doesn’t get us any closer to salvation. Why then, would we ever focus on people’s sin? Why would we exchange the message of redemption for one of condemnation? Why would we act as though it was our job to convict people of sin?