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 27, 2009
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.
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."
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?
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)
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.
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.
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.
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