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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.