The 1970s gave us a gaggle of singer-songwriters playing in the tradition of the folk revival of the 60s fused with the nascent era of the cocaine 70s. Some of these acts were schlocky and full of sentimentality and some were authentic. Until recently, “Please Come to Boston” by Dave Loggins was in the first category (sorry Loggins fans). In fact, the song wasn’t even on my radar and I like the genre. One day I heard the song playing overhead in a department store––fitting, right? But, this time I heard it as an organic church planter. Read the lyrics below but understanding that the narrator is the voice of the world, those the church should be reaching, protecting, comforting. The voice in the chorus seems to be from too many in the Church today.

Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Interesting, isn’t it?

Here’s what it means to me: We can no longer afford to try convincing, inviting, enticing, shaming, or guilting people to come to the church. That model––even if it is still limping along, promising us more mediocre success––is limited in impact and sustainability. The American Church is in danger of becoming even more obsolete than schlocky, sentimental troubadours lugging their Gibson Hummingbirds from folk club to street corner for busking.

The world needs a church willing to go to it; to take the actual church service out of the building and into the bars, coffeeshops, restaurants, pubs, hookah bars, residence halls, living rooms, parks, and student unions. Investing time in relationships, praying for them, praying with them, reading Scripture together, being a friend, finding the down and outers, those who know they’re broken: this is the stuff of the New Testament. This is what we were created to do! Let’s go be Jesus out there! See you in the bars.

––nathan

Please Come to Boston – Dave Loggins

Please come to Boston for the spring time.
I’m stayin’ here with some friends
And they’ve got lots of room.
You can sell your paintings on the sidewalk
By a cafe where I hope to be workin’ soon.
Please come to Boston.
She said, “No.
Would you come home to me?”

And she said, “Hey, ramblin’ boy,
Now won’t you settle down?
Boston ain’t your kind of town.
There ain’t no gold and
There ain’t nobody like me.
I’m the number one fan
Of the man from Tennessee.”

Please come to Denver with the snow fall.
We’ll move up into the mountains so far
That we can’t be found.
And throw “I love you” echoes down the canyon
And then lie awake at night until they come back around.
Please come to Denver.
She said, “No.
Boy, would you come home to me?”

And she said, “Hey, ramblin’ boy,
Why don’t you settle down?
Denver ain’t your kind of town.
There ain’t no gold and
There ain’t nobody like me.
‘Cause I’m the number one fan
Of the man from Tennessee.”

Now, this drifter’s world goes ’round and ’round
And I doubt that it’s ever gonna stop,
But of all the dreams I’ve lost or found
And all that I ain’t got.
I still need to lean to
Somebody I can sing to.

Please come to L. A. to live forever.
California life alone is just too hard to build.
I live in a house that looks out over the ocean.
And there’s some stars that fell from the sky
And livin’ up on the hill.
Please come to L. A.
She just said, “No.
Boy, won’t you come home to me?”

And she said, “Hey, ramblin’ boy,
Why don’t you settle down?
L. A. can’t be your kind of town.
There ain’t no gold and
There ain’t nobody like me.
No, no, I’m the number one fan
Of the man from Tennessee.
I’m the number one fan
Of the man from Tennessee.”