The Vision of Hatchet Twain

Tales from the Cross is based out of the Hatchet Twain Carnival Company for a variety of reasons. First, and most obvious, I needed somewhere to stash an 800 year old werewolf who tells stories. Either I built him a traveling sideshow, or I stuck him in an underground lair, like an abandoned sewer for example.

Understandably, Juraeth voted for the carnival.

But then I started noticing that a carnival and the church have a lot in common. Both are ultimately just passing though, both are off-set from the real world, yet they invite the outside world to experience their reality.

Both have the stigma of being after people’s money.

As Juraeth has a passion for living parables, and he was moving into a carnival anyway, why not build a carnival designed to be a living parable for the church? And not just any church either, but the early church as mentioned in Acts 2:42—which tells us that each new believer committed themselves to the Apostle’s teaching, to each other, to common meals, and to prayer. The chapter goes on to say that God moved in such an assembly. I want to go to a church like that, and to have a carnival that embodies this ideal seemed like a great idea. But, of course, what self respecting lost soul would wander onto the lot of the Acts Two Carnival Company?

A few minutes later, I’d riddled out the pseudonym, Hatchet Twain, so that my passion for the Acts 2 church could remain hidden in plain sight.

I mention this because ever since I started building the show, it’s wanted to be something more. I’ve even entertained the thought of starting my own church based on the Hatchet Twain Carnival Company, proudly boasting, “We’re all freaks here.” (Created in the image of God; corrupted in the image of sin. The word “Freak” does come to mind.) As I contemplated this issue, God told me that Hatchet Twain was not to be the foundation of a new church, but an awakening of the old one.

Over the last year or so, my passion for the church has intensified, as has my anger. I haven’t been to too many other churches lately, but mine seems built for Cleaverville where young, single-income families bring their 2.3 children to mingle with other families of the same demographic. Working in a Christian company, I hear different complaints about other congregations. Singles often get singled out as though not being married is an issue for the prayer chain. (Again, Cleaverville.) I’ve seen more than my share of praise bands behaving like American Idol wannabe’s instead of leading the worshippers to the throne of Grace. Sorry, folks, but there is a difference between singing Christian songs and worshiping Christ. I digress, as this is another blog entry all together.

Need I even mention the politics of ministries jockeying for stage time?

Recently, my wife and I had a friend over for dinner, a single woman who doesn’t fit in the Cleaverville mold and sees too many others in her same position. Her passion is more for the church to step in and teach these young adults what they would have learned if the school system hadn’t axed home economics; finances, cooking, laundry. She also wanted to do a seminar on things like finding out who you are…

Like my vision, her vision called for a total overhaul of the church as we know it—a clue that God might be up to something. We agreed to pray about combining the two and perhaps starting an assembly of ten people wiling to commit to each other’s lives. Where is this going? Don’t know. But if God is moving, I want in.

I also want to add that in the vision of Hatchet Twain, I would like to see the different congregations start to intermingle so that they behave more like a single body than competing business. Imagine what would happen if thousands of fellowships became the Church of Denver, still meeting in separate places, but functioning as one. If anyone has a clue on how to proceed in making this a reality, I’m all ears!!!