Read an Excerpt
Worship Together
In Your Church As In Heaven
By Josh Davis, Nikki Lerner Abingdon Press
Copyright © 2015 Abingdon Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63088-428-4
CHAPTER 1
Who Are We?
Stories are important. Where people come from is important. History affects the present and the future. Get to know us.
Josh's Story
I grew up in (was born into really!) a church that loved music and the nations. It has taken me until today to fully realize it because they were so ... well ... reserved. I can remember discussions during Sunday lunch about someone who started the clapping after a special music number at church. Clapping was not forbidden, but it certainly was not welcomed either. I can remember the few people whom I ever saw raise their hands in worship. None of them had grown up in our church. They were outsiders, transplants. And I remember the very few people who sang loud enough to be heard by someone sitting two pews in front of them. My mom was one of those high-volume singers. It used to embarrass me. Now, I am quite proud. It's funny how perspectives change.
I grew up in an all-White, traditional church. We sang hymns. Lots of them. All the time. Except, I can remember once when "Jews for Jesus" came and sang some Messianic music. It was so different. So other. So captivating. I went around forweeks after singing "Jehovah-Jireh, my Provider, His grace is sufficient for me, for me, for me.". And then, I can remember when we started a contemporary service at 8:00 a.m., and some girls sang a song out of a chorus book and were accompanied only by the piano. And I can remember the controversy those choruses caused.
I grew up in a very missions-minded church. Which means we had a missionary's name in the bulletin every week for us to pray for. And we had a map on the wall in the foyer with a bunch of people's pictures attached to it. And we had missions conferences. Every year. And I loved them! I loved getting to dress up in a traditional costume and carry a flag from another country. I loved getting the chance to have missionaries in our home for lunch or dinner. I loved hearing their stories and learning about other cultures. I loved going to their seminars and seeing slide shows of different people and places. I especially loved it when they let us use their blowguns or we would try to translate words from an unknown language using some principles they taught us. I learned so many good things growing up in my church. I learned to love God's word. I learned how to be a community that knows and cares for one another. I learned about what God was doing in other parts of the world. My church loved the nations, and I am grateful. But, practically speaking, we loved the nations from a distance and with special fervor during one week each year. We never sang the songs of the nations. We rarely, if ever, loved the nations in our midst.
The town I lived in had what was called "Newtown," which was the neighborhood, centered around MLK Jr. Boulevard, where most of the African Americans lived. I lived in an all-White neighborhood, was home-schooled (mostly), and went to an all-White church until I was thirteen years old. At which time, my family moved first to Costa Rica and then to the Dominican Republic to become missionaries. My life radically changed on so many levels. I began to learn Spanish and strangely found that I not only was good at it but also quite enjoyed it. Something in me came alive when I spoke Spanish. My friends would say that I sounded like an entirely different person when I was speaking Spanish. It was in the Dominican Republic that I began to experience worship in a different way. All of the sudden, I was part of a church that was very expressive in their worship. They sang loudly. They clapped their hands. They raised their hands. They prayed prayers out loud and for extended periods of time. And something in me came alive. This was more like how I expressed my worship to God in private. And in my church in the Dominican Republic, I had the freedom to do so in public.
When I came back to the United States, however, I found some interesting things. I have found that I no longer fit in one world or another. I am not entirely at home in the United States. I do not fit completely in the Dominican Republic either. I like to call myself a multicultural mutt. On the outside I look simple enough. White. American, like the cheese. But can you tell by looking that the American in me is time oriented and values productivity while the Dominican in me is event oriented and values relationship? Can you tell by looking at me that I have a Sudanese friend whose heart is so similar to mine that we call each other twin brothers? Never mind that he is well over six feet tall and his skin is as black as I have ever seen. Can you tell by looking at me that I can sing worship songs in more than eighteen languages off the top of my head and that, on any given day, one of those songs might come out of my mouth and my heart during my own personal time with the Lord? Can you tell that my first choice for worship music is gospel music and my second choice is Hindi? Can you tell by looking at me that I am learning American Sign Language so that I can communicate with my Deaf neighbor? Can you tell that I have been in worship leadership in a Baptist church, a nondenominational church, a United Methodist church, and a Mennonite Charismatic church? Can you tell by looking at me what church I should go to? Or what church I shouldn't go to?
I have two heart languages, English and Spanish. I have also found that more often than not, I have to choose whether I will be American or Latino when I go to church. Will I sing in English or Spanish? It is this tension inside me that in many ways has led me to consider why the body of Christ is so segregated when it comes to worship. It is this tension, combined with the power of the word of God that has led me to found Proskuneo Ministries (www.proskuneo.org). Proskuneo exists to glorify God and promote unity in the body of Christ through multilingual, multicultural worship gatherings, worship resources, and training in order that lives may be transformed and nations come together to worship God. In the last eleven years, I have devoted my life to seeing multicultural worship happen. And I fully expect to live the rest of my life praying for and working toward that glimpse of God's kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.
Our Friendship
I have a few people in my life who I can remember distinctly the moment I met them. Nikki is the only person who I can remember seeing as a stranger in a crowd before I met her. We were both traveling to a conference in New Orleans, and she came from Maryland and had to change planes in Atlanta. It just so happened we were on the same plane from Atlanta to New Orleans. And I can remember seeing her in the waiting area. She had a presence. (She still does!) She was confident and gracious. My wife says she is regal. I agree. It wasn't until hours later that we saw each other again in the lobby of the conference hotel and realized that we were brother and sister in Christ and both had a passion for multicultural worship. Amazing! I immediately sensed a family bond with Nikki (and we have some ridiculous pictures to prove it!), but I had no idea that I would be so profoundly affected by her and so incredibly blessed by her friendship and partnership in ministry. Now, only a few years later, we have written songs together, cotaught at conferences, led worship together, and ministered together on every coast of the United States and internationally! We have led and taught and loved each other's people. Our families have vacationed together. We have prayed for each other, challenged each other, asked each other difficult questions. And now, we are writing a book together. We love doing life together and worshipping God together.
We are learning what it is to work together. To lean on each other's strengths. To cover for each other's weaknesses. We understand that we are better together than we are apart. There have been many times that she said something I couldn't say, or said it in a way that I could never have said it. And vice versa. We are learning never to underestimate the impact of diverse people working together. We have been told many times that even the visual of me and Nikki leading and following each other is powerful. I have a tremendous amount of respect for Nikki's thoughtful leadership. She is a reflector. She has a gift of connecting with people and setting people at ease in her presence. People are drawn to her. She is courageous in the face of conflict, and when she knows what needs to be done, she does it, unapologetically. She challenges, empowers, and frees the people she leads to become leaders. I have a lot to learn from her. And I am looking forward to what I will learn, even as we coauthor this book.
Nikki's Story
"Jesus who?" That sort of sums up my knowledge of all things God-related until I was thirteen years old. I grew up in a very loving and good family. Church or anything having to do with God was not a part of our history as a family or even something that we valued. We were, however, what a friend of mine would call "Cheasters" (pronounced Chee-sters). We would occasionally go to church on Christmas and Easter with my grandmother, Elaine. I think that our family had some sort of belief in a "higher power," but now as I think about it, we may not have even had that. What I do remember is that there actually were times when I would ask to go to church with my grandmother. I think most of that was just to spend time with her, but I remember that I had the desire to go, nonetheless. It wasn't until my freshman year of high school that I was introduced to matters of faith. I was invited to a weekend retreat with an organization called Young Life by my volleyball team captain. Honestly, the only reason I went was that I thought it would be cool to hang out with her. It was at this retreat that I first heard about Jesus and that I could actually have a relationship with him. My response to the gospel went something like this: "Well, that just makes sense." And now, here I am, walking faithfully with Christ. Jesus sought me out and initiated his presence in my life, and now I am forever changed. In fact, that is one of my very own names for God, "the Initiator."
Apparently, I was never "Black enough." Or at least, that's what I was told by some members of my family. Not all of them, mind you. My mother's side of the family had always lived very multicultural lives. I am grateful for that as I write this today. People of many different races always surrounded us, and we always lived in communities that were multicultural. I had friends of different ethnicities, and I dated, romantically, outside of my race throughout the years. For the other members of my family, this multicultural lifestyle posed a particular problem. I remember my stepfather asking me to please initiate more friendships with African American kids. I remember some family members giving me a hard time because my boyfriends were not Black. When I asked them what the big deal was, their response was that they were concerned that I would lose sight of my heritage, my "Blackness." I remember being accused of "talking White" because I did not have a particular accent that could be associated with some African American cultures. I was even told by a family member that teachers in my school only liked me because I had White friends and because I wasn't really a Black person at all. It was tough at times. I believe that I could have had a huge identity crisis had it not been for a few strong women in my family (namely, my mother, her sister, and my grandmother) who taught me that people were the same no matter what their skin color and heritage. Not only that, but also they were to be affirmed, not in spite of, but because of how they were made by God. It is this heritage along with observing the tension between these two worldviews that are an important piece of the tapestry of my life and passion today.
I am married to a wonderful man who is White. Given what you just read, that's a big shocker, right? Contrary to some opinion, I didn't go out looking for a White man, and I didn't marry him because of his money (which he doesn't have) or any reason other than the fact that I am smart and I know a gift from the Lord when I see one. My husband, David, and I had been dating for less than one month when he proposed to me. I know, I know, that sounds crazy, right? But have you ever heard married people say something like "when you know, you know"? Well, I knew. While engaged, we thought that it would be important to decide whose church we would attend. There was only one problem: neither of us particularly cared for the other's place of worship. I was almost positive that he would just love the church that I was attending at the time, and I was so excited to bring him there. What I didn't expect to hear from David was the following question, "Where are all the Black people?" Hmmm. Honestly, that had never occurred to me. You see, since beginning to follow Jesus Christ when I was thirteen years old, most of my church experience, with the exception of a two-year experience at an African American Pentecostal church, had been in mostly Caucasian churches. In fact, growing up, I remember that my family was usually one of two or three Black families in a room wherever we went. My Aunt Fannie (God rest her soul) would always say something like, "We are the only chocolate chips in a room full of vanilla wafers." Ha! So, the fact that I was attending a predominantly Caucasian church never seemed to be an issue. I was quite intrigued that my White, soon-to-be husband felt so uncomfortable in such a uni-cultural environment. We decided to look for a church where we both felt comfortable to worship. Our church-search was not an easy one. Because we are an interracial couple, we get stared at wherever we go. My mother-in-law swears that it is just because we are tall, but I think she's just trying to be nice. It was no different for us while trying to find a church home. You tend to stick out when you walk into churches where you are the only ones who are "different." In fact, some studies have shown that couples like us end up not going to church at all because our families stick out and people don't quite know what to do with us.
In 1999, six months before we were to be married, we walked through the doors of Bridgeway Community Church in Columbia, Maryland (www.bridgewayonline.org). A friend of ours found Bridgeway in the phone book and was so excited to call us and tell us about this church that he found. His sales pitch? "There are seven interracial couples here!" That's what he said. Well, that was enough for us to go check it out. I will never forget what it felt like to walk into the doors of that church. I remember feeling like we finally fit. No one stared. We saw other couples who were like us and couples who were not like us at all! We saw multiracial people and children everywhere! After finding our seat in the meeting space and just taking in everything that we saw, we knew we were home. We were just praying that the church was biblically sound and that the people weren't crazy; well, they are crazy, but a good kind of crazy. We decided to make Bridgeway Community Church our home. Since that time, we have been on the ride of our lives, and God has given us the desire of our hearts—desires that we didn't even know existed. Who could've guessed that we would be ministered to and encouraged not only in our faith but also in our culture as people? Who could've guessed that I would be leading a worship ministry made up of more than one hundred amazing people? Who could've guessed that I would be writing this book and passing along all of the knowledge that the Lord has given me as I benefited from serving him in a beautiful and vibrant multicultural congregation of more than forty-five hundred people? God knew. And I am grateful. The story continues ...
Our Story
Josh and I met in August of 2009 at a small, fifteen-person retreat in New Orleans, Louisiana. We get a kick out of telling the story of how we were actually on the same flight headed out to New Orleans. Apparently, Josh saw me in the airport terminal, and I noticed him while boarding the plane. He was on the left side of the plane and looked up from reading his book as I was coming down the aisle. Our eyes actually met, and the first thing I thought to myself was, "I wonder if that guy knows Jesus." He just had that look about him—you know, that look?
Later that day, we found ourselves in the same room with a group of about thirteen other worship pastors and leaders. This special group spent two and a half days together, sharing stories, struggles, successes, and strategies with regard to multicultural worship, and ever since then our hearts have been connected.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Worship Together by Josh Davis, Nikki Lerner. Copyright © 2015 Abingdon Press. Excerpted by permission of Abingdon Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
