Conceptions and Misconceptions

"Church planting, church plaaaaan-ting", she sings to the tune of some old superhero theme song. "Jodi, what is church planting?" said my friend Aria someone quite new to the idea of church not to mention to the insider language of church culture.

In conversation with my cousin the other day she said, "I hear you are building a church?" "Well...no, perhaps starting a church, but not building a building, we will probably rent a space that already exists" I replied. "Oh, my Mom said you were 'church planting' and we figured that must mean that you were building a church."

That all has me thinking about language. Why do we call starting a new church, "church planting"? I don't know who first started using this language, but every church that currently exists was once either planted (beautiful intentionality), or it was the result of a church split (the dark ugly side of what happens when we do not play well in the sandbox with others). But as I walk around Vancouver as spring fights to come early I think I like this language of planting.

Planting speaks to hard work, tending to soil, working in compost, testing the nature of the soil you have, the amount of sun you will get, where you are in the biosphere and what will grow well in this place. Then you plant, and by faith you put these tiny seeds in the ground, and you wait. And wait. And wait. Tempted though you may be to dig up that little seed, and see how it is doing, is it growing? Will it make it? And in the dark ground that you have tended, there is an unfolding mystery that you cannot control. The mystery of a seed dying in order to break forth into fragile, tender life, a green shoot that is hard at first to distinguish from a weed. A garden emerging which will feed multitudes. Fruit that will hang heavy one day on these tender vines.

This is the mystery of God. Church planting.