Friday, December 11, 2009

An Advent Thought

If you're like me (which I probably wouldn't admit if I were you), the Advent season seems to bring with it a serious case of distraction and lack of focus. It's almost like I have seasonal ADD. The mystery and wonder of Christ's coming into our world is too easily overshadowed and lost in all of my own comings and goings. I recently came across these words and have been reading them over frequently to help me renew and maintain my sense of Advent mystery, amazement, and gratitude. Perhaps they will help you as well - if, unfortunately, you're like me.

A marvelous wonder has this day come to pass:
Nature is made new, and God becomes man.
That which he was, he has remained;
And that which he was not, he has taken on himself
While suffering neither confusion or division.
How shall I tell of this great mystery?
He who is without flesh becomes incarnate;
The Word puts on a body;
The Invisible is seen;
He whom no hand can touch is handled;
And he who has no beginning now begins to be.
The Son of God becomes the Son of Man:
Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and for ever.
-From Vespers on Christmas Day

Friday, October 23, 2009

Sometimes I Wonder. . .

There are days when I wonder if I have ever accomplished anything of significance, if my life and work has ever been more than the fulfillment of routine and ordinary duties, if my journey has been one of real purpose or just a wandering down the usual, well-worn paths of life.

Wow- that sounded pretty depressing. Sorry.

I'm really not on the edge or caught up in the throes of a mid-life crisis or anything. But, there are times when I wonder if I am making any genuine, lasting difference in the world. Of course, the difficulty with the question always lies in our definition of significance. Shaped by a culture in which visible, tangible success or achievement tends to be the standard by which to judge, most of us fall by default into categories other than "world-changer." And so we wonder, Has my life really counted for anything?

I was reading in Deuteronomy today, while wrestling with some of these questions of significance, and received a word of assurance. In preparation for claiming the land God had given them, Moses was recounting to the people of Israel their journey in the wilderness. The natural assumption would be that wandering in the wilderness is anything but a time of significant purpose or meaning; it appears to be nothing more than time wasted, the unfortunate result of their failure and lack of faith. But surprisingly, Moses makes this observation in Deuteronomy 2:7, "The Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He has watched over your journey through this vast desert. These forty years the Lord your God has been with you, and you have not lacked anything."

God is able to redeem our time, even the times of apparent wandering, those days of pushing through the wilderness. We all have our treks through the desert, moments when we feel like we are spinning our wheels in the sand, getting nowhere in life and achieving nothing of importance. Sometimes, like the people of Israel, I find myself there because of my own decisions and choices. Other times, the wilderness seems to surround me for no obvious reason. Either way, our paths through the desert do not have to translate into meaninglessness or a lack of purpose. There is One who is able to redeem all things, who delights in bringing purpose from the seemingly pointless, who creates significance in the midst of the unexceptional. What brings significance and purpose to my days is always the reality that the Lord my God has been with me, He has watched over my journey and blessed the work of my hands.

Does my life and work really count for anything? Even in the middle of the deserts that give rise to such a question, the answer can always be yes. When the visible success or achievements we hope for seem to elude us, the answer can still be yes. When we fail to create a blip on the world's radar of importance, the answer can remain yes. There is one thing that gives us that assurance: the Lord is with us, He is watching over our journey and blessing the work of our hands.

Enough said.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Postmodern and Wesleyan? Recovering a Sense of Mystery

No issue seems to generate more passionate debate and dramatic responses than that of worship. Let's face it - it's not often that churches are split by a raging controversy regarding the doctrine of the Trinity, but put a set of drums on the platform in a lot of places and the end will surely be near. Although the specifics differ from generation to generation and from place to place, our form of worship frequently serves as the public face of changing times for the church and its surrounding culture. As a result, and unfortunately, it becomes the battleground upon which proponents of change and those who resist change both stake their claim.

As the world around us moves further out into the waters of the postmodern age, our expressions and experiences of worship will no doubt continue to face the tensions of change. For many, the issues of music style, casual dress, and video projection are already considered debates of the long-ago past. There is a growing concern, a hunger really, for something more significant, something deeper than the surface matters of style and preference. It is the desire to truly encounter God, to experience worship in a way that goes beyond words. In my continuing conversation with the book Postmodern and Wesleyan?, this desire is expressed by Keith Schwanz in his chapter, "The Sensory Side of Being Spiritual." He writes:

"Evangelicals' confidence in the precision of words and modernity's inclination to reduce complexities to the smallest components created the false impression that Christian spirituality could be mastered and contained. . . The languages beyond words take over when we exhaust the capacity of words. Through space and shadows and colors and gestures and presence and touch, the languages beyond words help return an awareness of the transcendence of God to Christian worship. A growing awareness of the mystery of God invites worshipers to be patient with their own mysteries: paradox . . . doubt. The languages beyond words create space for such reality." (p. 107)


The lighting of candles and the use of darkness, times of silence, creative arts as expressions of worship, exercises of reflection and contemplation - these are things often foreign to those of us shaped by the modern perspective. As a result, some have misunderstood the desire and intention of those Christians seeking a more multi-sensory form of worship. A few have even resorted to harsh accusations, labeling such things as "New Age" or an attempt to draw us all into Roman Catholicism. But such accusations demonstrate a lack of understanding of both worship and the heart of these worshippers.

Among the Christians that I personally know who might be regarded as postmodern in their approach, there is no desire to do away with preaching and teaching or to make sensory experiences the ultimate authority for faith and practice. There is the genuine belief, however, that the sensory aspects of worship were neglected by the modern church culture and need to be recovered. I believe a couple of lines from this chapter hit the mark in identifying their desire and motivation: "return an awareness of the transcendence of God to Christian worship" and "a growing awareness of the mystery of God."

The modern world, so often driven by rationalism, sought to remove all mystery from life. The inclination was to categorize, define, systematize, understand, and explain. Alongside of this tendency stood our belief that what we understand we can then manipulate or control. Mysteries and complexities were not accepted and by no means were they celebrated with a sense of wonder; they became problems that must be tackled, resolved, and brought under control. That's not to say that all efforts to understand and explain are wrong or unnecessary, but when the element of mystery is completely stripped away, there are serious implications for the life of faith.

As the followers of Jesus, we undoubtedly employ the gift of reason. We study, we think, and yes, we even systematize and explain matters of the Bible and theology. Such use of reason is good and necessary. At the same time, there is and always will be an element of mystery in this life and journey of faith. The Christian faith is not a mystery in the sense that it is hidden away from us, beyond our knowledge or experience. God has clearly and certainly revealed Himself to us. It is a mystery in the sense that what has been revealed is beyond our ability to fully and exhaustively comprehend, understand, or articulate.

The God we worship is wholly other, and yet known to us; He is transcendent, and yet intimately present with us; God is One, and yet Three; the Savior we follow somehow became the Word made flesh, perfect God and perfect Man; in Christ, God was reconciling Himself to the world, at one time both just and the justifier; by grace, we know the hope of glory through Christ in us. These things we know; they have been revealed to us. Yet, we must also admit that they are beyond our full comprehension, that our words fall short in our attempts to articulate the truth that has been revealed. As Gregory of Nyssa once said, "Anyone who tries to describe the ineffable Light in language is truly a liar - not because he hates the truth, but because of the inadequacy of his description."

The admission of mystery does not work against the life of faith, but in fact deepens it. My inability to fully comprehend calls me to a life of radical trust in the God who Has revealed Himself to me. This element of mystery does not detract from my worship, but enlivens it with a renewed sense of awe. Rarely do I stand in awe of that which I fully understand and can explain. It is that which is beyond me that prompts a deep sense of awe and wonder. Some postmodern Christians feel that the sense of awe has been stripped away from our worship by the modern, Western mindset and they are simply seeking to recover it. They hunger for that sense of mystery, so long a celebrated part of the Christian faith and journey, to be restored to our worship. It is out of that desire that they incorporate acts of worship that represent the "languages beyond words."

While particular forms or expressions of worship may not appeal to everyone or fit every context, we can, in a spirit of unity, affirm one another's heart and desire in worship. We may express it in different ways, but standing in awe before the God who is beyond our full comprehension is a good thing.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

To Be or Not To Be the Church?

Over the next couple of weeks, some of the churches on our district are taking part in a "Faith in Action - Don't Go to Church, Be the Church" Sunday. In place of their normal schedule of worship services, these congregations will, as a church family, step outside the walls and serve their community in a variety of ways. Trash will be picked up, school yards cared for, homes repaired, nursing home residents ministered to - all in the name of Jesus, with no strings attached. The driving desire of these pastors and congregations is to connect with their community, demonstrating the love and grace of God through acts of kindness and service.

My family and I have participated in "Be the Church Sunday" with our own local church for the last two years, and we look forward to being a part of it once again this week. I have witnessed its impact on both those who serve and the ones being served. When done in the right spirit and with the right motivation, stepping outside of our normal activities for the day and pushing ourselves out beyond the walls of the church can be used by God as a powerful, formative experience of His grace. For those of us in the church, it reminds us that true worship is more than what we do inside the sanctuary and that we are called to be "doers" of the Word, not just "listeners." For those we serve in our community, we become a parable of Jesus, a concrete and visible illustration of His love and grace. It is a statement to the world around us that we are not here to serve ourselves and our own interests, or to be a private, exclusive club. Our call, our mission, and our desire is to be a reflection of the unfailing love and mercy of a God who longs to restore all that which is lost and broken.

The churches participating are not, as some have suggested, rejecting the value or need for preaching and worship services. They preach faithfully and consistently, they worship through music, rejoice in the testimonies of others, baptize believers, and share in communion. They do not see serving the community as a rejection of all these things, or the only thing that is needed; they are simply giving some intentional focus to an aspect of discipleship that is too often overlooked. Jesus not only proclaimed the kingdom of God verbally - He also demonstrated the power and grace of His kingdom through loving service to others. For the followers of Jesus, it is not a matter of one versus the other - it is all a part of a life that is offered up to God in worship.

Participating churches are not, as some claim, "forsaking the assembly." They meet together faithfully and consistently, in a variety of ways, and always with the purpose of experiencing the grace of God in the body of believers. On "Be the Church Sunday," they will come together - they come together to serve others in the Spirit of Christ. Their service becomes an act of worship, and as they offer it up, God is present, doing His work both in them and through them, shaping them more into the image of Jesus and revealing His love to a broken, hurting world.

These churches are not, as some have accused, trying to desecrate or disrespect the Sabbath. In Matthew 12, Jesus was challenged by those who defined the Sabbath by particular rituals and observances. In response, Jesus turned to the words found in Hosea 6:6, "I want you to show mercy, not offer sacrifices." His message to them was clear: the purpose and spirit of the law should take precedence over their rituals of the law. That message was reinforced by His words in verse 12, "Yes, the law permits a person to do good on the Sabbath." Rather than disrespecting the Sabbath, some of our churches are setting aside this day to honor it in a different way - by embodying Jesus in their community. Returning to Matthew 12, Jesus proclaimed Himself "Lord, even over the Sabbath." (vs. 8) So, if He is Lord of the Sabbath, and what these churches do this Sunday honors Jesus, then doesn't it honor the Sabbath as well?

Before anyone becomes defensive, let me make this clear: in no way am I saying that a church is wrong not to participate, that everyone must share the same opinion, or that every church should do it the same way. I understand that there are those who are personally uncomfortable with not having the usual worship service on Sunday. I fully understand that no one style or approach to ministry works in every context. And if your own convictions on the matter prevent you from participating in this event, then I fully respect that, want you to honor your convictions, and would object to any attempt to condemn you for your views. But with that said, let me ask this: shouldn't that same spirit of grace be extended to those who will take part?

In the church, we will always face non-essential matters that result in disagreement and differing opinions. Such differences are to be expected and are not wrong in themselves. When those differences, however, produce a spirit of judgment or condemnation toward our brothers and sisters in Christ or toward another church, we are no longer in line with what we are called to be. I hope we will take to heart Paul's direction in Romans 14:

"Who are you to condemn someone else's servants? They are responsible to the Lord, so let him judge whether they are right or wrong. And with the Lord's help, they will do what is right and will receive his approval. In the same way, some think one day is more holy than another day, while others think every day is alike. You should each be fully convinced that whichever day you choose is acceptable. . . So let's stop condemning each other. Decide instead to live in such a way that you will not cause another believer to stumble and fall."

I pray for the churches that will take part in "Don't Go to Church, Be the Church." I pray that God will do something wonderful in them and through them as they serve their communities in a spirit of love, offering up their lives as sacrifices of worship. I pray just as sincerely for the churches that will have their normal schedule of worship services. I ask God to be present and powerful in all that is done, and that all those attending will experience a genuine encounter with Him. Whatever we do, and however we go about doing it, may it all be for the glory of God and His kingdom. And may we all be glad for one another and the different ways the Spirit is working in the life of His Church.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Returning to Postmodern and Wesleyan?

Turning my thoughts once again to the book Postmodern and Wesleyan?, I must honestly admit that I find myself somewhat hesitant to discuss certain questions or issues the book raises. My concern flows from the perception that some topics seem to spark more misunderstanding, distortion, and misquotes than others. At the same time I realize that, for this very reason, these issues need to be put on the table and engaged with open, honest conversation. So, here we go with the often contentious question of the relationship of Christianity to other religions, and more specifically, the relationship of Christians with the people of other religions.

In the chapter titled Christianity and Other Religions, Dr. Albert Truesdale opens the dialogue on how we, in the Wesleyan tradition, should understand and approach this often difficult question. (Side note: Dr. Truesdale was one of my professors as a student at Nazarene Theological Seminary. Not that he would remember me - my academic record at NTS was far less than stellar!) None of us can deny the importance of the issue, as complex or contentious as it might be. In many ways, the world has come to our doorstep and we find ourselves surrounded by a culture of religious diversity. In sharp contrast to my own childhood experience, my children now attend school alongside a number of children from Muslim, Hindu, and Buddhist homes. Whether or not we want to deal with the question, it is and will continue to be before us.

Let it be said up front that there can be no wavering in our affirmation of Jesus Christ as Lord and God. We are rooted and established in the firm conviction that "God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ." (2 Cor. 5:19) What I appreciate about Dr. Truesdale's discussion, however, is not only his strong affirmation of who we believe Jesus to be, but also his challenging reminder of our Wesleyan understanding of God's prevenient grace and how it comes to bear on this issue. Recognizing both, he says:

"Wesleyans clearly recognize the importance of evangelical conversion resulting from a Spirit-inspired proclamation of the gospel. But we set no limits on how or when the Spirit will accomplish God's purposes. In various ways and measures, the Spirit can preveniently (i.e., with anticipation) employ religions - and any other device God chooses - in service to the gospel." (p. 81)

It seems to me that one of the critical issues that must come into play as we discuss our relationship to people of other religions is our understanding of prevenient grace. While we are unapologetic in our affirmation of who Jesus is, we also believe that God is at work prior to our conversion, speaking, awakening, and drawing us toward Him. Do we dare believe that the prevenient grace of God can be at work in the lives of those from other religions? Please understand me - that is not the same as affirming or accepting those religions themselves as being true or valid paths to God. To do so brings us into conflict with core Christian beliefs regarding the nature, person, and work of Jesus Christ. What it does affirm, however, is that God, in His sovereignty and grace, can use any variety of means, circumstances, and opportunities to begin to awaken a person's heart, stir their desire to know Him, and prepare the way for their necessary acceptance of Jesus as Lord and God.

We do believe, as Wesleyans, that God is at work before we arrive on the scene. We accept that the Spirit is moving in the lives of people, seeking them out and drawing them toward a relationship with Christ, even before we recognize it. So, if we believe that, then how should we understand our relationship with the Muslim, Hindu, or Buddhist next door? Should we not seek to lovingly and graciously nurture what God might already be doing in their lives through his prevenient grace? Rather than cut them off or push them away, would it not be better to cooperate with that grace, allowing love and friendship to draw them toward an understanding of Jesus as Lord and helping them enter into a relationship with Him? I think Dr. Truesdale's summary at the end of this chapter says it well (certainly far better than I could):

"In summary, a Wesleyan answer regarding Christianity and other religions contains four elements.

First, we affirm the New Testament's witness to Jesus Christ as God incarnate.

Second, we affirm that the promised Spirit of God unfailingly and creatively acts in the world. The Spirit seeks to draw all people to eternal life in Christ and prepares the way for the gospel's proclamation. We must seek to discern and cultivate the Spirit's work.

Third, we affirm that religions can become vehicles the Holy Spirit uses to draw people to Christ. But religions are at best incomplete anticipations of the fullness of God manifest in Christ.

Finally, we Wesleyans abhor mean-spirited opposition to other religions. Instead, we seek to understand and dialogue with those from other religions. We dialogue because we want to serve, not obstruct, the Redeemer's prevenient work." (p. 82)

Let the conversation continue.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Some Good Stuff

Taking a little break from the Postmodern and Wesleyan? discussion, I thought I would share some good stuff I came across this week. I was able to catch a little bit of "The Nines," Leadership Network's online conference where a number of church leaders were each given nine minutes to share something they were passionate about. One that stood out to me was Skye Jethani, editor of Leadership Journal, who challenged the all too common perception that "large" is equivalent to "legitimate" in ministry. It was a genuine and much-needed reminder to pastors and leaders that ministry must be judged by more than the scorecard of size.

Another item that caught my attention this week was an editorial by David Felter in our denominational magazine, Holiness Today:

http://www.nph.com/nphweb/html/h2ol/articleDisplay.jsp?mediaId=2402180&nid=lcol

The editorial itself is not specific and could probably be applied to any discussion of change or transition in the church. However, the title - Are the Emerging Church Folks Stealing the Church? - leaves no room for doubt as to the issue being addressed here. Personally, I believe he rightly captures and defends the heart and motivation of those in our church who are trying to engage our rapidly changing world with the radical hope of God's redeeming love and grace. I applaud his assertion that "they are different does not mean they are aberrant" as a word that needed to be spoken; I affirm his conclusion that these folks "are not thieves among us," but are in reality "our brothers, our sisters, and our children."

I know there are some who will immediately point to the extreme elements of the so-called emerging/emergent church movement and issue a blanket statement of condemnation over anyone and everyone who identifies with it in any way. Yes, there are elements under the "emerging" umbrella that walk a fine line, and a few may cross that line and truly qualify as aberrant. Now, I'm not a historian by any stretch of the imagination, but I do know enough to realize that the same could be said of every movement in the history of the church. Movements tend to be reactionary and there are always those who go too far in their reaction. History also teaches us, though, that God can be at work in a movement even if elements of that movement need to be corrected, disciplined, or rejected.

Apart from the general debate, my specific concern at the moment is for those within the Church of the Nazarene who have been tagged with the generic labels of "emergent" or "postmodern" and, as a result, have been attacked, rejected, or dismissed. I've sat across the table from a number of bright, gifted, and passionate leaders in our church who have been labeled these things (and, at times, labeled things less flattering). What I have personally seen, heard, and experienced with them is this:
  • They have no desire to reject the authority of Scripture or the doctrinal foundations of the church. What they want is an understanding of Scripture and doctrine that truly means something for the way we live. For them, the Bible is not a mere textbook and doctrine must be more than propositional statements. These things should form us and inform our way of life.
  • They do not wish to undermine or destroy the idea of holiness. They are passionate about following the way of Jesus, embracing the idea of "love made perfect" in our hearts, and living out this Christlike love in genuine community.
  • They do not reject or resent traditions as historic expressions of genuine Christian faith. At the same time, they are frustrated by a traditionalism that sacrifices the mission of the church for the sake of the comfort of church people.
  • They do not want to be conformed to the world, but desperately want to make a difference in the world. Rather than live in irrelevant isolation, they long to embody the love, grace, and hope of God's kingdom in the midst of a world that is broken.

There is one thing I would add to this list: some of these bright and passionate followers of Jesus are openly wondering if there is going to be room for them in our church. That is why, if for no other reason, I find this Holiness Today editorial to be encouraging, helpful, and hopeful. It reminds us that the table is a big one, that there is in fact room for those who are truly seeking to change our world for the sake of God's kingdom. Although we may differ on many non-essential issues or in matters of philosophy and style, we are united by a common love and a shared mission. Despite our questions, differences, and disagreements, those of us in the Body of Christ can and must learn to trust one another's hearts.

May it be so on all sides of the table.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Again With the Postmodern and Wesleyan?

Personally, I'm enjoying the thoughts and conversations related to the book Postmodern and Wesleyan? If you've had enough already, feel free to stop here and read no further. In fact, you may want to stay away for a few weeks. It's okay if you do - I'll just assume that you're going to devote those extra minutes to Bible study.

This week I have been processing chapters 2 and 3. In the second chapter, T. Scott Daniels discusses the "big tent" of the the Wesleyan tradition. Our tradition is clearly one of "liberty in nonessentials," seeking to maintain a spirit of unity and fellowship while allowing for a difference of opinion in matters not deemed essential to the Christian faith. It's not that these matters of opinion are of no significance at all, but we realize that Christians can differ in these areas and still all be Christians. The third chapter is Thomas Oord's thoughts on the idea of truth and its place in the postmodern mindset. While some seem to believe that all postmoderns reject the whole concept of truth, Oord points out that a postmodernist does not need to reject the idea of truth. At the same time, acknowledging that our human perception and understanding is faulty and imperfect at best, our posture should be one of humility.

I'm not nearly intelligent enough to be a part of the conversation with these guys, but in my simple-minded way, I see a significant point of connection between these chapters. In what I have read and observed, in the real-life conversations I've had, this is what comes across to me:
  • Many postmoderns are not questioning the idea of truth as much as they are questioning our ability, as human beings, to perfectly understand and communicate truth. Given our obvious fallibility, our walk should be one of humility.
  • Many postmodern Christians are not rejecting the idea of absolute truth, but the spirit of absolutism they have seen and experienced within the church. They are reacting to those who want to believe that their understanding or interpretation of absolutely everything is absolutely correct.
  • Many postmodern Christians are not trying to diminish the value of doctrinal distinctives or various Biblical interpretations, but are rejecting the "small tent" mentality that too often reveals itself in judgmental stone-throwing between different Christian camps and traditions. They are reacting to those who seem to reduce Christianity to nothing more than a set of propositions and those who elevate their own distinctives and opinions to the point that they become the definition of a "true Christian."

It seems to me that the "convictions embraced in humility" attitude that Thomas Oord speaks of will naturally create in us the "big tent" perspective expressed by Scott Daniels. Conversely, the "big tent" concept of "liberty in nonessentials," which is an integral part of our Wesleyan tradition, seems to resonate deeply with the concerns and ideals of many postmoderns in their search for truth. Perhaps being postmodern and Wesleyan is not all that far-fetched?

With that said, are there potential dangers related to the postmodern mindset? Have some gone to extremes, rejecting all truth and drifting into absolute relativism? Is there the danger of allowing the essentials of the faith to become lost or labeled as nonessential? Absolutely. Remember, though, that every age and movement has those who go to unhealthy extremes and the Church has always faced the danger of losing its essential identity when interacting in and with our world. Words of caution are necessary, but not new; the warnings were just as needed in the modern era as they will be in the postmodern era.

For me personally, I have come to see that many postmodern Christians are, at least to a degree, calling us back to something that is not only a part of our Wesleyan heritage, but the Biblical command to reveal Jesus in the way that we love one another. Love compels us to find unity in those things that are essential and to maintain fellowship despite the differences of opinion in the nonessentials. Love calls us to walk in humility, with an open and teachable spirit. This attitude seems to echo that of John Wesley in his sermon Catholic Spirit:

"But although a difference in opinions or modes of worship may prevent an entire external union, yet need it prevent our union in affection? Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike? May we not be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion? Without all doubt, we may. . .

And it is certain, so long as we know but in part, that all men will not see all things alike. It is an unavoidable consequence of the present weakness and shortness of human understanding, that several men will be of several minds in religion as well as in common life. So it has been from the beginning of the world, and so it will be till the restitution of all things. . .

I ask not, therefore, of him with whom I would unite in love, Are you of my church, of my congregation? Do you receive the same form of church government, and allow the same church officers, with me? Do you join in the same form of prayer wherein I worship God? I inquire not, Do you receive the supper of the Lord in the same posture and manner that I do? nor whether, in the administration of baptism, you agree with me in admitting sureties for the baptized, in the manner of administering it; or the age of those to whom it should be administered. Nay, I ask not of you (as clear as I am in my own mind), whether you allow baptism and the Lord's Supper at all. Let all these things stand by: we will talk of them, if need be, at a more convenient season, my only question at present is this, 'Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart?'"

Amen.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Postmodern and Wesleyan? The Conversation Continued

In the first chapter of Postmodern and Wesleyan?, Jon Middendorf addresses the question of why we need to enter into this conversation. No doubt there are those who deem the conversation unnecessary and even others who would consider it dangerous. As Jon points out, though, the God we believe in is one of dynamic interaction, reaching out to creation, speaking and working in countless ways, and inviting response. Interaction, speaking, inviting response - sounds like a conversation, doesn't it? If we truly believe that God is actively working to redeem and restore that which He loves, then we must accept that, in some way and on some level, a divine conversation is happening. And those of us in the Wesleyan tradition, who hold to the idea of prevenient grace, or the "grace that goes before," believe that this conversation is taking place even beyond the walls of our churches and our circles of Christian fellowship.

As I listen to many Christians who would be labeled by some as "postmodern," what I hear is a genuine desire to become a part of this divine and redemptive conversation. Jon, in this chapter, expressed it well:

"Postmodern Christians have grown increasingly frustrated by the Church's lack of familiarity with and lack of desire to dialogue with the broader culture. In the spirit of our Wesleyan heritage, these postmodern believers hope that those outside of the church walls will be treated as something other than a threat or an enemy.

Many postmodern Christians have a deep desire to reenter neighborhoods, towns and cities as the people of God. This reentering is not done with a posture that would have us pointing fingers, however. It is a reentering in conversation, with a genuine interest in people and places all too often considered beyond our church walls and responsibility.

Perhaps postmodern Christians can return to an understanding of the phrase 'Holiness Tradition' that will release and reenergize them. For too long 'holiness' has been a kind of wall keeping us separated from a culture we have deemed inherently evil. But this understanding of holiness not only puts us in danger of losing touch with postmodern believers but also denies our part of what is distinctive about our Wesleyan heritage." (p. 21)

Perhaps I can take Jon's statement one step further: the understanding of holiness as isolation not only denies our Wesleyan heritage, but also denies the spirit and character of Jesus revealed in the Gospels. The Jesus we claim to follow was a friend to sinners, engaged in love with all those around him. Much to the dismay and horror of religious isolationists, Jesus shared a table and conversation with those considered unclean and unworthy. Why would we think that Jesus no longer wants to have those surprising conversations with unlikely people in unexpected places? For many postmodern Christians, there is the feeling that the Church has disconnected from what God is doing "out there" and they desire to reengage our world, becoming an active part of this divine conversation.

Some will argue that, in reality, this attempt to engage the world is causing the Church to become conformed to the culture of the world. Is there the temptation and danger of becoming absorbed into the culture to such a degree that we no longer reflect the radical alternative of life in God's kingdom? Certainly - but that is not a new danger that just cropped up with the onset of postmodernism. Every generation of the Church has faced that same issue, and there have been those in every generation that ended up being shaped more by the culture than redeeming the culture. How many Christians in the modern era, especially within our culture, have conformed to the priorities and values of materialism and consumerism? The followers of Jesus have always faced and will always face the challenge of being "in" the world but not "of" it, the task of engaging culture effectively and redemptively without abandoning the values of the kingdom. To use this as an excuse to isolate ourselves in fear, however, is a rejection of our call to become part of God's mission of reconciliation and restoration.

Words of caution are necessary and valuable as we engage the culture around us. We must constantly remember who we are in Christ, what He has called us to be, and what it means to embody the values of His kingdom. With that said, the example of Jesus clearly challenges us to enter into a Spirit-directed, loving, and redemptive conversation with our world. Setting ministry methods and particulars aside for a moment, it seems the followers of Christ can find plenty of room for common ground, and at the very least, we can appreciate and affirm the desire of all those who long to impact our world with His love, grace, and mercy.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Postmodern and Wesleyan?

I am currently making my way through the book Postmodern and Wesleyan? from our own Beacon Hill Press. The spirit and intent of the book and its various authors is to enter into a conversation about the life and mission of the Church in this postmodern context in which we find ourselves. I fully realize that the mere mention of "conversation" and "postmodern" in the same sentence will cause some to rejoice and will fill others with visions of the apocalypse. It is well stated in the book's introduction:

"Change is in the air. Many people sense something uncommonly different. The change they see and feel and imagine is more than simply whatever is supposedly new and improved. This change entails a radically different way of looking at life. The most common word to describe this change is 'postmodernism.'

To some, postmodernism is a dream becoming reality. To others, it's a nightmare they hope will soon end." (p. 15)

Despite the strong reactions, the conversation is a necessary one. This is the world in which we live, the world in which we are called to carry out God's mission. And all of us in this conversation must remember who and what we are called to be; neither blind acceptance or fearful isolation will enable us to live out the transforming mission of God's kingdom. Every world view is shaped by a variety of circumstances, events, and reactions, producing both good and bad. Modernism produced some good and beneficial qualities, but we must also admit that it bore some fruit that is not in line with kingdom values, such as consumerism and extreme individualism. Likewise, the postmodern reaction we find ourselves in has, and will have, a mixture of strengths and weaknesses, positives and pitfalls. To reject either in its entirety or to accept either uncritically will render us irrelevant and ineffective in our mission.

The call that rests on Jesus' followers continues to be the same, regardless of the culture and worldview that surrounds us: to live out the love, grace, and transforming power of God's kingdom in this present moment in such a way that we become a part of His ministry of reconciliation and restoration. To do so, we must understand and engage the world around us, effectively communicating this radical alternative we know as the life-giving way of Jesus.

Let the conversation begin.

Friday, August 14, 2009

The Overlooked Heresy

In some of my recent reading, I came across these words from Gregory Boyd:

"If love is above every other consideration, and if everything without love is devoid of Kingdom value, as the New Testament teaches, then it seems we should regard the command to love to be the ultimate test of orthodoxy. To fail to love like Jesus is the worst form of heresy, regardless of how true one's beliefs are." (The Myth of a Christian Religion, p. 60)

Pretty interesting thought.

You don't have to read too many of the "discernment" blogs and websites that crowd the internet to become convinced that there are a lot of folks in the church that are pretty fond of the words heresy and heretic. They seem to delight in dropping the "h" bomb on those with whom they disagree. Yet somehow, in the midst of their battle for truth as they see it, they excuse and justify the use of slander, insult, and distortion.

If you have been a part of a church for any length of time, you have come to realize that a lot of people have some very definite ideas on how church is supposed to be done. There's nothing wrong with that; if fact, it is a good and necessary part of the community of faith. Sometimes, though, it seems we can become so convinced that our way is the right way that we view every other opinion or approach to ministry as some sort of falling away. Matters of style, preference, or methodology can quickly become, in the minds of some, a battle for orthodoxy. And too often, that battlefield mentality leads us to rationalize and accept behavior that is divisive and destructive.

Jesus made it clear that the greatest commands are to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love others the way we want to be loved. God's kingdom is marked and shaped by love. To act in violation of love, then, is to act in opposition to His kingdom. Understanding that, could it be that the greatest heresy is one that is deeper than ideas or doctrine? Is it possible that the greatest of all heretics is the one who refuses to love?

Is there something to this line of thought, or am I just a heretic?

Friday, May 15, 2009

A Little Knowledge Can Be A Good Thing

Our youngest son had a rough time on the bus the other day. He came home frustrated and upset because another kid pushed him out of the seat and was calling him names. Naturally, our parental instincts kicked into high gear and we immediately went into defensive mode, wondering why such delinquents are not banished from our schools and what could be done to shelter our child from this future felon. Then my son said something that changed our whole perspective and tone of the conversation. He said, "The kid didn't used to be that way, but his mom died."

It's amazing how a little knowledge can unlock a wave of compassion and understanding.

As much as we want to make quick and simple judgments about everyone and everything, life in this world and the people around us are just too complex for that. We categorize, label, and define others by what we see, but we often do so without knowledge. In our admittedly correct observation that some behaviors are wrong and destructive, we lose all sense of grace and compassion for the person behind the action. In our defensiveness, we become blind to the hurt and brokenness that has shaped the one who offended us. Our casual and easy judgments deny our inability to truly know someones story, their pain, or their heart. At the same time, and what may be our greatest motivation, our careless condemnation of those around us masks our own brokenness, dysfunction, and desperate need for grace.

They say a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing and we've all seen cases that seem to prove the point. But when it comes to the realm of passing judgment, it seems like a little knowledge can be a good thing. A little information changed my perception of a kid on the bus from an abusive punk to a hurt, grieving little boy in need of love and understanding. A little knowledge makes me aware once again that I don't have the knowledge necessary to be the judge of the world.

Friday, May 8, 2009

What's In a Name

Over the last decade I have read and reread Eugene Peterson's book Leap Over A Wall, finding both challenge and encouragement from his reflections on the life of David. His insight into the story of David's anointing by Samuel has served as a frequent and timely companion, a necessary reminder and needed source of assurance. Peterson points out that in the narrative found in I Samuel 16:1-13, David's name is not revealed until the very end. Up to that point, he is dismissively referred to by his father only as the "baby brother," the one left tending the sheep. His position and lack of prominence in the family is clear: left out of the celebration, charged with menial tasks, and labeled, not by name, but simply as the "youngest."

Then the story takes an interesting turn. The "baby," the one of insignificance within the family hierarchy, is chosen king. In this surprising moment of anointing, we read that "the Spirit of the Lord came upon David in power." (vs. 13) Did you catch that? The Spirit came upon, not the baby, but David. The very first mention of David's name is in conjunction with the Spirit of God. While others dismissed him with labels of insignificance, God, seeing what others could not see, called him by name.

We get tagged with labels of all kinds, and some of them seemingly hold the power to drain away any sense of significance and value. But the story of David tells us that our significance is not found in the labels, titles, or judgments the world attaches to us. There is Someone who is not swayed or confined by the opinions of others, but truly knows us. He calls us by name, breaking the power of the world's dismissive labels. To be named is to be honored, and in calling us by name God assures us that we are chosen, that within the vastness of this universe we are seen and known, that there is indeed purpose, value, and importance in who we are.

When you are dismissed, disregarded, and devalued by those around you, listen for the voice that calls you by name. Come back to the story of David and see yourself in this story of God and His people, trusting that you too are chosen. As Peterson said, "It's the intent and skill of this scriptural storyteller to turn everyone who reads or hears the story into realizing something essentially Davidic about him- or herself: 'In my insignificant, sheep-keeping obscurity, I am chosen.'" No matter where you are this moment, no matter how you feel about yourself, despite what others might have said about you, you have been chosen by One who knows your name.

Friday, May 1, 2009

The Grace to Change

I celebrated a birthday this last week. Actually, "celebrated" probably isn't the right word - I begrudgingly accepted the fact that I am another year older. Thanks to all of you who remembered and chose to honor the occasion with cracks about my middle-aged status. I'm sure the day will come when I will be able to forgive you.

Birthdays seem to be a natural time for reflection. Looking back, I realized this year more than ever how much I have changed. There was a time when I thought I had everything figured out, all things seemed to fit within my parameters of understanding, I was certain about pretty much everything, and I knew absolutely who was right and who was wrong. Those were simple days, filled with a sense of security, control, and an unhealthy dose of pride. Such days cannot last. After 44 years of experiencing life, walking with others, and allowing the grace of God to work in me, I see a lot of things differently.

There are still things that I am certain about. In fact, I am more certain about some things than ever before. But I have to be honest - my list of certainties is a whole lot shorter than it used to be. Some of the issues and positions I used to argue about passionately just don't seem worth arguing about anymore. Many of the questions I thought had simple answers now seem to be much more complex. I'm starting to believe that some of those folks I thought were absolutely wrong may of had a point. Most of my conclusions have been refined, some have been significantly modified, and a few have been abandoned.

There are those who believe that any change in position, view, or opinion must be regarded as a sign of weakness at best or cowardice at worst. Speaking as one who used to think that way, I now see that weakness and cowardice can also be expressed in my unwillingness to confront the possibility that I might be wrong. Fear is what drives me to reject any notion that my conclusions are imperfect and that those who disagree with me can add anything to the conversation or my understanding. Yes, cowardice can push us into change; but, cowardice can also keep us from change that is needed.

For me to become the person that God has created and called me to be, I must have the courage to embrace change as He leads me forward. I must to live with a sense of humility and the awareness that my understanding, opinions, views, and methods are not perfect and beyond all possibility of error. There are a lot of things I see differently now than I did 20 years ago; and if I live on this earth another 20 years, I hope, by the grace of God, to see things differently than I do now.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Good Friday

On this Good Friday, let me share these thoughts from Michael Lodahl's narrative theology, The Story of God:

It is, nonetheless, no small miracle of history that this terrible instrument of torture and death, the Roman cross, has become to Christians the most profound symbol of divine love that will not let us go. In the symbol of Calvary's tree, Christians have confessed that ultimate Reality is laid bare, that God is revealed as the One who bends down in suffering servanthood, who outpours the divine heart of love, and they have said in amazement, "For me - it is for me." Here is the great historical event in which, and by which, we confess with the beloved apostle, "God is love" (I John 4:8, 16).

We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us - and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. (3:16; 4:10-11)

Finally, then, the Cross is not merely the historical manifestation of the love and mercy of God but also the central symbol in the Story of God. Further, it symbolizes the spirit and way of the Christian journey, of the Christian orientation toward others. To walk the way of the Cross is to walk in self-giving and other-receiving love, in humility, in servanthood, in vulnerability. It is to consider oneself "dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus," just as Jesus himself "died to sin, once for all," but now "lives to God" (Rom. 6:11, 10) - p. 164

Today, as we reflect on the Cross, that central symbol of God's Story, may it also be reflected in my journey and yours.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Love Just Is

A simple gesture of humility and service can make a powerful statement.

The night before Jesus' crucifixion, He entered the room where the disciples had gathered, the same disciples who had been debating the seemingly important question of which of them was the greatest. Jesus, acting with intention and humility, picks up a towel and basin of water, and taking the place of the lowest of servants, begins to wash the feet of the disciples. Clearly, the idea that he had come to serve others was more than a nice slogan or vision statement - it was the reality of Jesus' heart, character, and behavior.

That moment, just on the surface, is enough to convict and challenge me in regard to the priorities of my life. But as I look beyond the surface, I consider those sitting around that room, those that Jesus kneels before in the position of a servant. I see James and John who delighted in calling down the fire of judgment and openly campaigned for positions of honor. I see Peter who, despite his promises and great proclamations, will act like a coward and deny any knowledge of this Jesus. I see the "rational" and doubting Thomas who will reject the testimonies of resurrection. And then there is Judas. In just a little while, he will turn his back in betrayal against the very one who is washing his feet. As I look around that room, at those being served by Jesus, I cannot escape this thought: they don't deserve it.

This act of humility reveals the amazing quality of Jesus' love. His love is not based on what we deserve or do not deserve, it is not founded what we have done or what we will do. It just is. This incredible, unconditional love was offered without strings and was demonstrated in the laying down of His life for the undeserving. And now we are called to follow this Jesus.

We have a lot of ways of erecting barriers between the church and the world. For that matter, we have a lot of ways of erecting barriers within the church. One of our wall-building methods is trying to determine who deserves to be served, cared for, and loved. We decide who is worthy of our efforts and attention based on who they are in our eyes, what they have done or not done, or what we think they can offer. The way of Jesus, though, is the path of loving and serving for the sake of loving and serving. It is poured out extravagantly, without regard for what is deserved and with no demand for anything in return. It just is.

In the same way, may our love and service just be.

Friday, March 20, 2009

And So It Continues. . .

Looking over my last couple of posts, there seems to be a consistent theme related to Jesus and his interaction with the religious power structure. It's not that I'm trying to be repetitive or I'm just out of creative ideas (although I freely confess to never having a creative and/or original thought). The reality is, in reflecting on the days leading up to Jesus' crucifixion, we cannot escape the intensifying conflict and clashing perspectives that existed between Jesus and the religious elite. So, the story continues.

After the confrontation at the temple, and the ensuing challenge to his authority, Jesus delivers a prophecy of judgment that begins with an indictment of the teachers of the law and the Pharisees. He exposes them as blind guides and hypocrites who, like whitewashed tombs, cover their spiritual deadness with the appearance of righteousness. Despite their insistence on keeping the law, they violated the more important matters of the law, things like justice, mercy, and faithfulness. Their arrogance and self-righteousness kept them from the kingdom of heaven and hindered others who were trying to enter. As much as Jesus longed to gather them "under his wings" of love and redemption, their spiritual pride and blindness made them unwilling.

Those absolutely convinced that they were both right and righteous had gone terribly wrong. The self-professed upholders of the law had violated the very spirit of the law. The proud defenders of truth ended up denying the Truth.

The Pharisees and the teachers of the law were by no means the last to be blinded by their own certainty and arrogance. There are those who claim to follow Jesus but end up defending their concept of truth in a manner that violates the more important issues of love and mercy. Seeing themselves as above error in all things spiritual, they condemn and divide, marring the witness of Christ's Church in the eyes of the world. More concerned about winning arguments than loving others, they set out on a mission to attack and destroy. Fed by spiritual pride and self-righteousness, they judge the hearts of others and proclaim their judgment publicly.

Does Jesus weep over us as he did Jerusalem?

Humility would remind us that we are not above the blindness of the Pharisees; it tells us that the character of Christ is more important than our arguments. Ultimately, truth cannot be reduced to mere propositions to be debated; truth is found in the person of Jesus Christ and his character must be reflected in us. To defend my understanding of the truth in a manner that is arrogant, divisive, and destructive is to deny the heart and character of the Truth. Remember the more important matters - it was not long after this encounter with the teachers of the law and the Pharisees that Jesus gathered with his disciples and simply told them, "My command is this: Love each other."

Friday, March 13, 2009

"Right" Blindness

Continuing my thoughts about the final days leading up to Jesus' crucifixion, there is a moment of confrontation that occurs following the table-tossing episode at the temple. The chief priests and elders - who are none too happy about this attack on their well-run and personally beneficial system - challenge Jesus, asking him what authority he has to do such a thing. Jesus turns it back on them, promising to answer their question if they first answer the question of whether or not John the Baptist was of God. The chief priests knew full well that the people viewed John as a prophet, but they themselves had rejected him. With that realization, and being the political and self-serving weasels that they were, they weren't about to answer the question.

Jesus made his point. These guys refused to acknowledge authority, even when it was clear. They could not see truth, even when it stood right in front of them. So really, there was no point in answering their question, because regardless of the answer, they would refuse to accept it. The chief priests would defend their position at all costs and against any argument. They were right, period, and no other possibility would be allowed.

It's interesting that in our debates and conflicts, we naturally assume that the other person must be the one who is misguided. Others are negatively shaped by their culture and experience; others water down the truth for the sake of personal convenience; others champion wrong interpretations, based on distorted perceptions and rewritten history. Blindness is always the other guy's problem, and we refuse to hear anything that would suggest otherwise. Desperately holding on to the notion that our understanding or interpretation of absolutely everything is absolutely correct, we reject all else as complete error. And those who happen to view things differently are, at best, dismissed as misguided souls or, at worst, rejected as heretics.

It's sad that the followers of Jesus spend so much time and energy arguing with one another, mostly over non-essential things. What makes it more devastating is our unwillingness to even acknowledge that our understanding might be imperfect. Rather than finding resolution by listening and learning from one another, we become more divisive and entrenched. Insistent that blindness and error must always rest on the other side of the issue, our opinions become convictions and our convictions become certainties. I'm not saying that convictions are wrong or that certainties don't exist; I'm suggesting that our pride too often carries us beyond what is essential and crosses the line of spiritual arrogance and blindness. And this lack of humility can keep us from seeing what God is doing right in front of us.

If you think it doesn't happen, just ask the chief priests who could not recognize the Truth that stood right in front of them.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Good Churches Gone Bad

As we make our way through the Lenten season, I have been reflecting on the final days leading up to Jesus' crucifixion. This morning - when I admittedly wasn't paying attention to the meeting I was in - I gave some thought to the encounter between an angry Jesus and the temple moneychangers. There was a time in my life when I really liked that story because it seemed like an easy defense and justification of my own occasional outbursts. I hope I've matured beyond that misguided notion. The reality is, this event was a vivid demonstration of Jesus' authority and a prophetic indictment of what the institutional religion had become.

One would certainly hope that religious leaders take seriously the call to come alongside others to serve, help, and encourage them in their walk with God. Unfortunately, that call was somehow lost in the religious machinery of Jerusalem. Through a corrupt system of currency exchange and sacrifice sales, those in power manipulated and distorted the system of temple worship into a self-serving mockery. Those who came to worship found themselves exploited, hindered, and abused for the sake of profit. The very things intended to bless and encourage people in their relationship with God were hijacked by insiders for a selfish purpose. It was religion gone bad, an ugly picture of self placed before God and others.

To assume that this episode has nothing to say to us, that somehow we are above the same temptations, is either arrogant or naive. We don't have to look far or hard to find a good church that has gone bad, a place of worship that has been taken captive by the selfish desires of those who believe they are in charge. Like moneychangers, they twist the church into an object of self-interest, serving the wishes and preferences of those inside while those outside are ignored or despised. The very community called to be an instrument of grace, connecting people with the God who loves them, can all too easily take a heartbreaking slide into self-absorbed isolation.

In this season of reflection, humility confronts us with the painful reality that those in the temple courts of Jerusalem were not the last to lose sight of their purpose and call. Sometimes the tables still need to be overturned.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Lessons From a "Lent-Free" Heritage

I don't remember hearing anything about Lent in my church when I was growing up. Now it's very possible that I simply wasn't paying attention - I've been known to do that - but honestly, I think Lent was something that was just not a part of our language or tradition. It was one of those practices we tended to identify with those "other" churches, the ones we viewed as being caught up in ritual and formality. As evangelicals in the holiness tradition, it wasn't our thing. So, most of the people I looked to in my formative years either didn't think about Lent at all or dismissed it as irrelevant. I now believe that I missed out on something all those years.

I have come to embrace the observance of the Lenten season as something beneficial and spiritually renewing. To set aside a period of time for fasting and spiritual reflection sharpens my focus and attention on the things of God's Kingdom, it brings a new awareness and sensitivity to the voice of the Spirit. As I move toward the celebration of Christ's resurrection, listening with deliberate intention, I am changed, seeing and understanding more of what it means to truly pick up the cross and be a follower of Jesus. Lenten practices have, for me, proven to be more than rituals or irrelevant traditions; they have become instruments of God's transforming grace.

I am not the only one in my tradition to have made this discovery. Many of our churches have found an appreciation for the Lenten season and have embraced it as a part of their worship and spiritual practice. Back when I was young (which is getting further away all the time), I had never heard of a Nazarene church holding an Ash Wednesday service. Now, I can name several that do so. Personally, I'm glad to see it.

My reflection on this has made it apparent to me once again that, sometimes, we end up cutting ourselves off from good and beneficial expressions of the faith simply because we think they belong to that "other" group. Churches naturally tend to emphasize their particular distinctive, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. There are theological and doctrinal differences that exist, and those should not be diminished or ignored. However, we can become so concerned about avoiding or countering the distinctive understandings of other traditions that we end up diminishing or neglecting significant aspects of Christian faith and practice.

While points of disagreement certainly do exist among the various traditions of the Church, our reaction to those disagreements has too often pushed us to reject too much. We have neglected various styles of worship, ignored certain spiritual disciplines, and even, at times, diminished the sacraments because we associate them with another tradition that has points of disagreement with our own. Yes, the points of disagreement matter, but so do the points of agreement. Certainly we can acknowledge both and learn from one another. For those in my church who start to get a little nervous with this kind of talk, let me remind you that the historical statement in the Manual of the Church of the Nazarene begins this way: The Church of the Nazarene, from its beginnings, has confessed itself to be a branch of the "one, holy, universal, and apostolic" church and has sought to be faithful to it. . . As its own people, it embraces the people of God through the ages, those redeemed through Jesus Christ in whatever expression of the one church they may be found.
May that be more than just words for us; may it be a truth revealed in our spirit and practice. Some things are not confined to the categories of Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox, Nazarene, Baptist, Pentecostal, Lutheran, mainline, evangelical, traditional, contemporary, and so on. Some things are just Christian, an expression of the "one, holy, universal, and apostolic" church. To lose them is to lose part of who we are, and we do so to our own detriment.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Leaving Gracefully

As a pastor, it always hurt when someone decided to leave the church. Even when they assured me that it was nothing "personal," I never seemed to have the ability to receive it that way. And of course, there were those times when it was truly "personal." Those encounters usually left me second-guessing myself and in a crisis of confidence for weeks. At the same time, I know it is a part of church life in this present reality. There will be times when someone decides that the best thing for them is to find another place to worship, connect, and serve. It may be a matter of style or personality, or it might be a different vision or understanding of what is needed. Whatever the reason, it happens. And despite the hurt I felt as a pastor, let me say this: I did come to appreciate those who knew how to leave gracefully.

Given a choice between the person who leaves and the one who stays just to be a pain in the rear end, determined to win at all costs, I have to choose the one who leaves. I can appreciate those who are more concerned about the welfare of the church than they are about winning the battle.

Given a choice between the person who disappears without warning and the one who discusses the issues with the pastor before making a decision, I will always take the one who is open and honest. I have to commend those who follow the Biblical directive for handling disagreement and demonstrate the courage and respect to speak with the pastor directly about their issues of concern.

Given a choice between the people who share their reasons for leaving only with those who truly need to know and the ones who broadcast their displeasure to anyone and everyone, I'll take the ones who know when not to speak. Unnecessarily drawing others into our personal issues of complaint will do nothing but spread dissension and disunity, compelling others to take sides.

Given a choice between people who truly leave and move on and those who leave, but continue to try and stir dissension at the church they left, I unquestionably opt for those who know how to let it go. I respect those who recognize that once they leave a church, they are no longer in a position to criticize or try and influence the direction of that church.

Given a choice between people who leave with a spirit of affirmation, love, and blessing, and those who stomp out in anger, bitterness, and the desire for retribution - well, the choice is pretty obvious if we're going to call ourselves followers of Jesus. And yes, it is possible to part ways with a genuine spirit of love, desiring and praying for God's blessing on one another.

I never wanted anyone to leave my church. Okay, there may have been moments when I wished some of them would go away, but in the end, it was a hurtful experience when someone actually left. I also know there will always be times, for a variety of reasons, when it happens. And when it does, all of us need to remember that the way of Jesus is not one of spreading hurt and destruction, but one of love and blessing. So pastor, when they say they are leaving, send them on their way with a genuine prayer for God's blessing. And on the other side, if you believe it is best for you to find another church, please do so with no desire or attempt to hurt and destroy. If you feel you must leave, then leave gracefully.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Love and Thunder

You have to like the disciples James and John, the ones Jesus nicknamed the "Sons of Thunder." How cool is that? Sounds like the ring name for some professional tag-team wrestlers. And they not only had the name - they had the attitude to match. When they experienced rejection from a particular village, their immediate reaction was to ask Jesus, "Do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?" Nice. Notice they didn't bother asking Jesus if He was going to call down fire; they were excited about the prospect of doing it themselves. It's pretty clear that this wasn't a case of an opposite kind of nickname, like calling a really big guy "Tiny." The name actually fit them well, and maybe at times, it fits us all too well.

Like James and John, we can find it easy, and perhaps even enjoyable, to call down the thunder. We look out at a world that is broken and depraved, and our reaction is to call for judgment and painful destruction. After all, somebody needs to straighten this place out and give these people what they deserve. And we don't call down the fire just on those out in the world, either. Sometimes we even delight in swinging the hammer of judgment on those inside the church because of what we believe to be misguided notions or methods. It's all with the best of intentions, of course, and with the clear justification of defending what is right and good. And almost without noticing, we cross the line from defending the truth to delighting in the destruction of others. In a passing conversation, I once heard a professing Christian make the remark, "I can't wait for Jesus to return and kick some rear-ends." The "Sons of Thunder" surely live.

Jesus, however, has this tendency to mess up the stuff that seems to come so naturally to us, things like judging others and enjoying it. When James and John wanted to call down the fire, Jesus did not give them a smile and nod, recognizing that they were simply standing for what was right. Scripture tells us that he rebuked them; He told them to knock it off because that type of attitude did not reflect His heart and spirit. You see, Jesus was serious about this love thing. It's not about just loving good people and blessing those that agree with us. The love that Jesus calls us to is one without condition, one that prays for those who hurt us and blesses those who curse us. It does not delight in judgment, but longs for redemption and reconciliation. This love does not rejoice in calling down the thunder.

For the followers of Jesus, the reality of judgment does not equate to the enjoyment of it. The path we follow is not one of taking joy in calling down the fire, but one of lifting up prayers for those who are lost and broken. Instead of crying out for destruction, we must become people who cry out for the redemption and deliverance of those in bondage. Rather than shouting words of condemnation, we are called to empty ourselves and take the place of a servant. This is the way of Jesus, the One who prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

Friday, January 30, 2009

I'm Okay With the Middle of the Road

The middle of the road always had a bad rap when I was growing up in the church. It was usually associated with being "lukewarm" spiritually, not having the courage of your convictions, and the place where the devil lulls us asleep, rendering us ineffective for the Kingdom. I understand the metaphor and I certainly don't advocate a lukewarm spirituality or weakness in convictions. And - as much as I love sleep - I really don't want to be lulled to sleep by the devil. I wonder, though, if the middle of the road deserves only these negative connotations.

Sometimes I think that this repudiation of the middle of the road has led some within the church to an extreme, all or nothing kind of approach to almost everything. If a new movement, approach to ministry, another church, or book has anything within it that they do not agree with, they feel compelled to reject it entirely. After all, in their thinking, to accept any of it is a sign of compromise, and compromise leads you straight to middle of the road spiritual complacency. As a result, the church ends up bouncing between extremes, with people becoming entrenched on either side of the divide, their reactions always pushing them further apart. Now I might be wrong, but I'm not sure that's a healthy approach to life in the Body of Christ.

I look at myself and realize that I am a strange blend of strengths and weaknesses, positives and pitfalls, gifts and inabilities. All of us are. And those same characteristics, both good and bad, will naturally be reflected in what I do, what I create, and the groups I belong to. I am glad that the people in my life have not taken an all or nothing approach in their relationship with me. They appreciate my strengths and help me in my weakness; they learn from me, and I from them; we disagree at points, but still accept one another. We meet in the middle of the road, so to speak. Why would the followers of Jesus not demonstrate that same spirit toward one another? Why would we feel that we must agree with someone on every point in order to learn something from them, or even to accept them?

We would be much better served by an attitude of discernment and humble reflection than we are by the fear-driven, all or nothing approach. I don't have to agree with or accept everything, but I can listen, discern, humbly learn, take what is good and useful, and leave behind that which I cannot accept. But when points of disagreement result in our absolute rejection of anything and everything about another person or church, we find ourselves living in a place of dangerous and unhealthy extremes. Forced into our narrow box of understanding, we become blind to our own weaknesses and ineffectiveness, all the while missing out on the growth and benefit we could receive from other brothers and sisters in Christ.

It seems that some become so frightened of the middle of the road that they end up jumping off the ledge. We need to realize that it doesn't matter which side of the cliff you fall off of - it's still going to hurt. Personally, I have come to the conclusion that the middle of the road is not always a bad place to be, and we can even live there with passion and conviction. And, after all, it's got to be healthier than falling off a ledge, right?

Friday, January 23, 2009

Scripture, Love, and Authority


I recently read Scot McKnight's book, The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible. I realize the title will set off alarm bells for all those who believe that "rethinking" anything about the Bible must certainly represent a low view of Scripture and be yet another indication of our trajectory toward heresy and chaos. Relax - it's okay. Rethinking is not necessarily a bad thing, and I actually came away from the book with an awareness that, at times, our well-intentioned defenses of the Bible actually lessen its power and place in our lives. McKnight calls us to approach the Bible relationally, as explained in these words:

A relational approach believes our relationship to the Bible is transformed into a relationship with the God who speaks to us in and through the Bible. . . If we distinguish God from the Bible, then we also learn that in listening to God's words in the Bible we are in search of more than a relationship with paper with words, namely, a relationship with the person who speaks on paper. Our relationship to the Bible is actually a relationship with the God of the Bible. We want to emphasize that we don't ask what the Bible says, we ask what God says to us in that Bible. (p. 90-91)

We must begin an entirely new conversation that gets us beyond the right view of the Bible to one that seeks to answer this question: "What is our relationship to the God of the Bible?" I suggest that the answer to that question, and one that comes to mind immediately for the one who reads the Bible attentively, is simple: Our relationship to the God of the Bible is to listen to God so we can love him more deeply and love others more completely. If God's ultimate design for us is to love God and to love others, we can only acquire that love by learning to listen to God. (p. 96)

It is easy, when defending a so-called high view of Scripture, to treat the Bible as a theological treatise to be debated, a rule book to be followed, or a history text to be proven. While these approaches might contain elements of truth, each one falls short in its understanding, severing the Bible from its true purpose and reducing its role in the lives of Jesus' followers. The Bible is an expression of relationship, a place of personal encounter where we hear God speak. Such an encounter will certainly and necessarily change us, drawing us deeper into the life of love for God and others.

It's interesting that some who are greatly concerned about defending the authority of Scripture end up doing so in ways that violate the spirit of love. Yet the words we defend make it clear that the greatest commands are to love God and others. Clearly, the role and purpose of the Bible in our lives cannot be separated from that call. So we must ask the question: "If our interaction with the Bible is not resulting in a greater love for God and others, do we really have a high view of Scripture?"

Friday, January 16, 2009

Getting Personal

The temperature where I live hit about 10 below this morning and, to be honest, I absolutely love it. On days like this, I usually step outside several times during the day without a coat on just experience and enjoy the cold air. There's something about it I like, a quality that is fresh and enlivening. Yes, I know - I'm weird. Your further comments on this subject are unnecessary.

Although I prefer the word "unique" over "weird," I freely admit that I am different in many respects from others around me. But that's okay because so are you. We are all different in a variety of ways and every circumstance in life is unique. As a result, all of our interactions and relationships have a sense of singularity about them, like snowflakes with no two ever being exactly the same. Every relationship possesses a unique quality, every situation or circumstance occurs at a unique point of time shaped by specific and varying factors. The relationships and events of our lives, while exhibiting elements of commonality, are in themselves as exclusive and particular as we are individually.

Why then do I so often expect God to act and respond the same way in every person's life and in every circumstance of my life? Although we talk about a personal relationship with God, we do not expect to experience the dynamic and unique qualities that are exhibited in a true, personal relationship. We assume that God works in everyone's life the same way, that their testimony and spiritual journey must necessarily mirror our own. We presume that God must, in fact, respond to our prayer in a specific way if we simply have faith. We insist that if God is never changing that must mean He will work the same way today as He did yesterday, that previous experiences will be replicated in every circumstance and for everyone else.

Sometimes it feels like we are not really looking for a personal relationship with a personal and relational God. Rather, we prefer to view God as some type of eternal vending machine where we deposit this currency called faith and out drops nicely packaged and uniform products of healing, deliverance, forgiveness, growth, and so on. But relationship don't work that way; they can't work that way. The uniqueness of each individual and every situation produces a dynamic and uncommon quality in every relationship and response. Yes, God is always loving and redemptive, but how that is revealed in my life my look different than it does in my neighbor's life. God is always at work, bringing about His purpose and the purposes of His Kingdom, but how He did that in my life yesterday may not be the way He does it tomorrow. If our God is truly personal and relational, then we must set aside the cookie cutter expectations in this journey of faith.

There is a profound and somewhat disconcerting statement made in the C.S. Lewis book, Prince Caspian. When Lucy asks Aslan why he didn't rush in and rescue them like before, the great lion responds, "Things never happen the same way twice." If this life of faith is one of genuine relationship with a personal God, then so it must be.

Friday, January 9, 2009

If You Happen to Disagree. . .

I have been questioned, and even criticized at times, for reading books and listening to speakers that come from a different perspective than my own. For those who have raised these questions, the issue is not simply one of secular versus Christian books - it's primarily a concern over reading works from another Christian tradition or those that would disagree with us at certain theological points. The reasoning behind it seems to be twofold: first, my reading of the book could be seen as an implicit acceptance of all that it teaches, and second, I am putting myself in danger of being led astray. Sorry, but I look at it differently. Let me share with you some of the reasons that I read, and will continue to read, books that come from a different theological perspective, even ones with which I disagree.

1.) Doing so teaches me to discern and develops my ability to think through an issue. If I only read books and articles from those I know I'm supposed to agree with, I can walk through the motions of reading without truly thinking. When I encounter something that I know is coming from another perspective, I am forced to read and think carefully, consult the Scriptures, and turn to others for their opinion. Discernment must be practiced to be learned.

2.) Listening to those who disagree with me helps me to clarify, define, and express my own beliefs more effectively. When we are in dialogue with those who fully agree with us, we don't have to explain and communicate everything clearly or accurately. Some things, among those of like mind, are simply understood and accepted. However, when we listen to those from outside our tradition, we gain a sense of how our beliefs are perceived and understood by others. Those conversations force me to clarify and define my views more carefully, and engaging those with whom I disagree teaches me to communicate my beliefs more fully and effectively.

3.) The fact that I disagree with someone on some things doesn't mean they are wrong about everything. I think we need to be humble enough to admit that we can learn from others, even when there are points of disagreement. When we isolate ourselves to the point that we will only listen to those who fully agree with us, we necessarily limit our potential for growth intellectually, spiritually, and relationally.

4.) I cannot assume that I am absolutely right about absolutely everything. Certainly, there are essentials that I hold to and values I will not compromise. However, it is ridiculous to assume that every thought, interpretation, and opinion I have is fully perfected and without error. Only reading and listening to those who agree with me will keep me blind to my weaknesses. It is those who disagree with me that reveal the weaknesses and inconsistencies within my system of thought and practice. Let's face it - sometimes our critics are right.

You know, when you think about it, it's pretty much impossible for two thinking people to fully agree on everything all the time. So, if we took this idea of only reading or listening to those who agree with us and carried it to its logical (or extreme) conclusion, we would all end up sitting in a room alone, talking only to ourselves. You're probably thinking that would be the best thing for me right now. It's okay - I'll still listen to you even though I disagree.