I was raised by wolves. Just kidding. But I was not raised in a context anchored to any tradition. My spiritual formation took place in a non-denominational Bible church. I was raised by a single mom who remarried after my dad died. Even after my mother remarried, I had little to no stability in my childhood.
So now fast-forward a few decades and I have planted a non-denominational church that for better or worse has to endure some of my quirkiness. I didn’t even mention that it was Palm Sunday last week. ‘Holy Week’ creeps up on me, much like Lent.
I have a theological aversion to professionalism. And I will defend that value all day. But there is something soft in my heart toward some of the old school traditions and cadences that I wish had been instilled in me in my youth. I am not proud to lack a rich heritage or depth of tradition. I think I am missing something for not having experienced that part of this ancient faith.
I guess this blog is a bit of an apology to my church. I am not trying to make a point when I skip mentioning Palm Sunday or Lent, or Mother’s Day . . . Wait is Father’s Day coming up!?
The way I am wired has flavored our fellowship as I said earlier, “for better or worse.” And that in itself is a scary part of planting a church. My idiosyncrasies abound.
I would encourage families to lean into and study church traditions with their children. It is good to be connected to a tradition extending back further than 2009. I am grateful for the church history that has come before ReCAST! And I just might eventually become more traditional. I wonder if that change will come in time for my funeral?
