Jeremy L. Berg

Here’s another favorite MainStreet moment as we celebrate our anniversary this January. Enjoy!

I’m continually amazed looking back at the MainStreet journey to realize just how unprepared and unformed I was as a pastor to be attempting such a significant task. I marvel that the Covenant and Northwest Conference would invest so much time, energy and money into a young up-and-coming leader who had never pastored a church before. Then I remembered Peter, Andrew, John, and the other unschooled fisherman Jesus called and it made more sense.

But I often thought to myself, “Boy, if we actually succeed in birthing the church, I’ll then have to learn how to pastor it!”

Well, that day eventually did come.

When we finally launched into weekly worship, I was plunged into the deep end where it was sink or swim. I had no real Sunday preaching experience. As a youth pastor, I had never pastored or taught adults before. I had no idea how a leadership team or church council was to be formed and led. I had never handled a church budget. And on and on.

My greatest struggle was overcoming my fear of  public speaking and learning how to preach well. I was all too aware of my lack of experience and weaknesses in this area. Preaching and teaching the Scriptures well is my greatest ambition in life, and so therefore failing in this area was also my greatest fear.

Add to this self-imposed pressure the added external pressure that the number one reason visitors to a new church will stay or not is how well they like the preaching! Add to that the fact that the success of our entire church planting project depended on whether or not people stuck around to help grow the church.

(I’m not sure why I’m putting this into print, but let it be known that I suffered chronic indigestion or diarrhea during this time mainly caused by my anxiety over preaching. Before every service at the Gillespie Center I was in the bathroom, popping Immodium AD like it was candy, trying to calm my stomach before facing my greatest fear again. I don’t share this to gain pity or sympathy, but mainly to give God glory for helping me  endure and overcome this near-paralyzing “thorn in the flesh” during my development as a pastor.)

I am eternally grateful for all those MainStreeters who put up with my first years of learning to preach. I know it was painful at first. But there’s really no other way to learn than by doing it week after week! But I want to share a break-through moment when I began to feel myself coming alive in the pulpit and breaking free from the shackles of fear and insecurity. It’s also a key moment for MainStreet embracing the kind of grace-filled church culture we have become.

Here’s the story. We spent about our first year worshiping at the Gillespie Senior Center in Mound. For much of our first year the seats were filled with many curious Excelsior Covenant supporters as well as some locals who were “church shopping.” These were seasoned church attenders who brought with them certain expectations and desires in a new church and young pastor. I’ll never forget the one lady who showed me her homemade checklist scribbled on the back of the bulletin for measuring her experience at MainStreet. She was grading our performance in some of the following areas:

• Welcome
• Coffee
• Music
• Pastor’s personality
• Pastor’s appearance (clothes)
• Sermon quality

Moments like this played off all my insecurities. I slowly and subtly began to cater to what I thought would appeal to the people who were currently attending, and not the target audience we felt called to reach in Mound. I began to preach in a style that would impress the life-long Excelsior Covenant attenders, and I began to dress so as not to offend the middle-aged church hoppers. Yes, believe it or not, if you go back and look at the photos, you’ll see that I went through kakis and button up phase. I hated it.

Then in the spring of 2013 we moved into our new MainStreet home in the strip mall at Stonegate Plaza. We were done meeting in the Gillespie Senior Center. We were done meeting inside the nursing home chapel at Lake Minnetonka Shores where we met during the construction. We were moving into our own space, with our own vibe, our own colors of paint on the wall, our own furnishings, our own stage, and decor.

Physical space matters. Each building has its own vibe and feel and character. Something shifted when MainStreet opened the doors that first Sunday in our new space. Something shifted deep inside my soul when I stepped onto that stage for the first time to preach my first sermon in our new space.

I felt suddenly liberated from the need to be a certain kind of pastor to impress certain kinds of attenders. I was suddenly very aware of the kind of church we were called to become and the kinds of people we were called to attract. I suddenly was fearless in the pulpit. I was confident in who God had made me and the kind of pastor he was making me. I was done pretending to be someone I’m not. Something very deep let loose in side my insecure soul that morning as I launched into my first sermon in our new space.

Here’s proof. My message was “Today we’re beginning a grand new adventure together as we move into this new space. Like a road trip, its important to pack all the necessary things needed for the trip.” (I was unpacking, or rather encouraging us to bring with us, some of the qualities and characteristics that made up the church at Antioch in Acts 11.)

Now, I did something that I would have never done in the stale environment at the Gillespie Center or in the stuffy, formal atmosphere of the nursing home chapel. In my introduction I brought a suitcase full of random things we typically want to remember to bring a road trip such as cell phone charger, camera, toothbrush, and so on. I remember feeling so light and carefree as I had fun throwing different items into the audience such as Goldfish snacks and beef jerky. Then without even thinking about it, I said, “And of course you never want to forget to bring your underwear!”

To this day, I cannot believe I actually threw a pair of my (clean) boxers into a church congregation during a sermon! (You might get away with that at a youth retreat.) To this day, I am still pretty sure that was crossing a line and I wouldn’t do it again. But the greater point I am making is that this was a key moment in my personal development as a young, insecure preacher who was finally at home in front of a crowd, enjoying opening God’s Word to the people, and shedding all the expectations others might have for me while embracing my true self. MainStreet likewise was now a place where someone could do something foolish and still be accepted; a place where we don’t take ourselves too seriously; a place where people can laugh and cry, or step out of their comfort zone and fail.

A couple weeks later, we celebrated our first Easter in our new home, and almost overnight the complexion and makeup of MainStreet was changed. That spring and summer (2013) several Excelsior Covenant friends quietly went back home to Excelsior, having faithfully served their time in getting us launched. Perhaps we had now formed a kind of church culture they wouldn’t feel comfortable in long term. That was ok. But in their place, we began to draw a different demographic—the kinds of folks we had always hoped to reach when we began planting MainStreet.

We began to draw old Mound classmates of mine. We had visitors whose lives were hitting rock bottom and looking for a fresh start and hope. We began drawing the hurting and lonely, the addicts and emotionally sick. We had people checking us out who hadn’t been in church for quite some time. The second half of 2013 was filled with many exciting impact stories and testimonies recorded elsewhere in this book. (Watch some testimonies here.)

But that grace only came to MainStreet after I had been seized by the kind of grace and freedom that sent my underwear flying through the room that March morning at MainStreet! That kind of grace is certain to offend any closet Pharisees and drive away any stuffy religious people. I have found a friend in King David who himself was once so overcome with the joy in the presence of the Lord that he stripped into his undies and danced down the isle in worship to the great embarrassment of some looking on.

So, to all who witnessed that moment of questionable judgment that day in worship I say: Hey, at least I kept my clothes on —  unlike David!