the denomination and me: missing the personal jesus

A week ago I supposed to attend, but I didn't go.  When I started they told me that it would be a requirement, but this is the second year that I simply decided that other things were more important.  Nothing was said to me before, and I doubt I will receive any reprimand this time.  Now it appears that there were many who made the same choice.  And, even though I haven't spoken of this with anyone else, I think I know why.

Now, before you get too wrapped up in this, or think that I am guilty of derelict of duty, let me tell you that I am a pastor, and the event to which I am referring is our annual church conference (well, one of two that we're supposed to attend).  To the average person, this doesn't seem like a big deal.  Perhaps the average person is quite insightful on this matter, but before you jump to any conclusions please understand that such conferences are seen as important to those in denominational leadership.  And, yes, it is a requirement that their licensed and ordained folk make a point to attend.  Until two years ago I was a part of denominational leadership, and held firm in the belief that these can be important events that connect and equip our church leadership.  I still do, when they are worth it.

I have come to realize that most pastors will endure a lot for the sake of their calling.  One of the areas where pastors will typically be willing to endure is the amount of denominational meetings, conferences, classes, and other such requirements that form a necessary part of our vocation.  This means that, for the most part, ministerial clergy will go ahead and take a day out of their lives to drive a few hours and sit through a litany of reports and speakers, even if most of it can be described as a 'waste of time.'  There is always the sense of duty, the more compelling sense of community and fellowship, and even the eternal optimism that can identify the crumbs of the good (think: "Well, at least we heard that one speaker mention a book that sounded good for me ...").  But what I have discovered is that even a sense of ministerial duty, which can overcome 'time-wasting,' cannot overcome long and dry discussions of irrelevance.

But there is a growing lack of pastors showing up at these events.  Although I can understand a lot of frustrations with the entire process, I have always felt a sense of duty that was more important than all of that other stuff.  Now that I have made the intentional decision to not attend for the past two years, I am beginning to understand more of the psyche of our average pastor.  Let me first clarify that my decision was not based on my own 'frustrations with the process,' but with a specific situation in which I was personally involved (a longer story that doesn't fit in well here).  My experience is letting me see things from the outside, and I believe that there is a great amount of clarity out here.

I have had the opportunity to see the program/report book for the conference weekend, and I have read through the list of denominational reports - both national and district.  The overwhelming sense that came from reading it was that we are a group that is completely irrelevant to the gospel.  I do not say this lightly, and I must immediately add that I believe a few of the pages reflected some good folk who are doing the best they can to work for their faith.  But the system - the overarching context - of our denomination is broken.  This is not true of every denomination, certainly.  But this is not true of our denomination alone, certainly.

I feel as though so many of our churches are slow dancing in a burning room.  In our small denomination we speak a lot about church multiplication.  But if anything multiplied by zero is nothing ( x*0=0), then it is imperative that we ask ourselves what it is that we are seeking to reproduce.  I say this because I cannot find, in any of the pages or conferences or talk that comes from within my denomination any truth that seeks to change lives.  The family is being pummeled by our culture (and our government), yet we speak about how important it is to plant churches.  The healthcare mandate is shoving immorality down the throats of moral people, and yet we want to hold a seminar on how treasurers and moderators can work together on church vision strategies.  The economy is leaving many people in financial disaster, forcing many people into a welfare state that is both unsustainable and demoralizing, yet we speak about churches leaving "legacy gifts" as though it is of the highest priority.

We have become so distracted from our primary mandate to make disciples that we are drowning in a sea of ecclesial stupidity.  Ours is an age of the church where there is a seminar or book for every conceivable situation of ministerial leadership.  If we have a church in conflict, there is a peacemaker seminar.  If we have a church that is financially tight, there is a conference on how to produce better tithers.  If a church is in transition, there is a forum on being an 'intentional interim.'  The list goes on and on.  And it appears that we have developed a certain need for these gatherings - some simply do not feel refreshed unless they have been to their annual hype-up-Jesus-the-rock-star show for the year, typically with a name like combustion.  If you've been around church, you probably know what I mean.

The ironic piece of this is that our saturated church culture has come to convince itself that this is 1) new, and 2) beneficial.  I believe that neither is the case.  Humanity was told a few thousand years ago that there is nothing new under the sun, yet we still think that our generation is the exception.  Even if you forget that divine perspective, there is the benefit of those voices in the church who weren't so long ago.  One of the most prophetic preachers in American during the last century was A.W. Tozer, who was somewhat 'radical' in his own day (over his critique of culture and church life), but who was able to foresee the very trends of the church that we have been witnessing in our generation.

He gave a sermon once in which he said: "I am quite amused and somewhat disgusted with some of my ministerial brethren who are so busy studying psychology in order to know how to handle their congregations.  When you have a Bible and a mind, a mouth and the Holy Ghost, why do you have to study psychology?"  The same can be said of our current state of affairs.  So many in our pulpits, our pews, and even our overseeing leadership seek out these conferences, self-helps, terminology, processes, and spine-tingling light-and-sound shows because we have lost, in large measure, the transforming power of the presence of Almighty God.  We have been searching for relevance and have missed out on the Spirit, which results in the warning of C.S. Lewis that aiming for earth gets neither heaven nor earth, while aiming for heaven inherits both.

I said that many pastors are beginning to recognize this.  Regardless of whether their own descriptions would look like mine, there is a growing undertow of lifelessness that is allowing our denominational movement to deflate quite quickly.  We use the word transformation quite a bit, yet very little evidence of Spirit-driven change exists in our midst.  Every now and then we get a glimpse of what could be, and it is incredibly exciting - I have shared this with a good number of folks.  But there is a failure to surrender all of this to a radical experience of a radical God who has sent his radical Spirit to do radically great things.  Until we can embrace that, then we will never know what the kingdom of God looks like in our midst.

Ultimately, I do not know what to do.  I am conflicted over this situation, mostly by a sense of duty.  It is overly simplistic to say that I ought to step forward and work for change.  So I must wait and pray in that direction, and do the work in front of me in the meanwhile.  I have become silent in the denomination, for this and my personal relationship with the church.  This is alright for now, for there is a time to be silent and a time to speak ... the Spirit has not asked me to open my mouth quite yet.

the raven, the dove, and the holy spirit

Much of A.W. Tozer's writings and sermons have been printed and reprinted that it can often be confusing to the reader where to find specific content.  One collection of sermons on the theme of the Holy Spirit was published in 1968 under the title, When He Is Come.  In preparing for the transition from Easter to Pentecost, I have been rereading through this volume again this year.  The final sermon (Chapter 10) contains a rather interesting connection: the dove which Noah sent from the ark as an image of the Holy Spirit's relationship to the world - both repelled by corruption.

As an exposition of Genesis 8:9, Tozer provides a fascinating look into Noah's releasing of the birds - first the raven, then the dove - from the ark as a way of gauging the receding waters.  Since the window of the ark allows him only to look skyward, the birds will provide him feedback on the condition of the world.  (There is a valuable discussion in John Walton's NIVAC commentary on Genesis regarding the historical 'difficulties' that exist around the biblical flood narrative.)  It is the raven which is sent out first, which flew back and forth over the earth until the water had receded.  Such birds are carrion, and were perhaps able to feast on the death and destruction that would have been leftover from the flood.  It is opposite the dove - the gentler of the two birds - which finally returns with an olive branch, signifying the new growth that was emerging on the earth.

Tozer's sermon on this passage is straightforward: the raven is able to find a home amongst the carnage, while the dove is looking for a renewed earth.  The raven surveys the remains of destruction from God's judgment, while the dove returns with a sign of God's grace and restoration.  As imagery of the coming Holy Spirit, these birds give a picture of God and his relationship to the world.  In a pastoral sense, Tozer then connects the condition of the heart to the raven and the dove - one which is darkened and willing to embrace a world which is corrupt, verses the life which has been renewed by the gospel and able to receive the presence of the Holy Spirit.

An interesting direction which this sermon is further taken is how many churchgoers are willing to embrace parts of our culture instead of abiding in the presence of the Spirit.  Although he speaks to a culture in the first half of the twentieth century, Tozer's words seem to be prophetically applicable to the state of our world in the very early years of the twenty-first century.  Our culture is willing to recognize 'good men/women' and even give a tip of the hat to various 'spiritualities,' so long as they are not overly specific or demanding.  This means, of course, that genuine Christianity will not be tolerated by our modern culture (especially the so-called-political-correctness of so-called-tolerance).

When churches incorporate such cultural shifts, typically in a quest to be appealing or desirable or non-offensive or hip, then the Spirit cannot accomplish its work of renewal and divine restoration of creation will not occur in such situations.  As I have said before, the one power in all creation that can stop the Spirit of God is the human heart.  Tozer's equation of this phenomenon - laid out ahead of its occurring - was that the loss of the fundamental Christian experience of the Spirit would result in liberalism, which will result in unitarianism.  In other words, without the presence of the Spirit the church will succumb to the progressive ideas of culture, and there will be no distinguishing mark of the people of God.

All of this from ravens and doves?  It appears so, not because Tozer was a preacher noted for his kitschy creativity and well-marketed sermons.  He went to the Mars Hill of our culture with the voice of a prophet, and saw God's story in the whole of Scripture, with a faith that was not interested in conforming to that which was socially acceptable in his day.  On that, we can learn that it is not our ability to be accepted, stylish, trend-setting, popular, or the like.  Our trending toward culture is allowing the ravens to pick away at the corpses that have fallen under God's judgment.  All the while we could be filled with the Spirit of Almighty God.

the gods of technology

One of the challenges of the modern world is grappling with the amount of technology that surrounds us and is available to us.  There has been much work by scientists, theologians, sociologists, philosophers, and numerous others to understand the world in which we live - one that is shaped by technology.  This is not new, for these questions have been moving alongside the advancement of technology every step of the way.  What we are faced with, however, is a barrage of technological advancement which comes from so many different angles, moving at a rate of exponential growth such as the world as never before seen.

One of the outcomes of technology and technological advancement is that it has a tendency to diminish the role of religion in a given culture.  Since the work of science and technology are perceived as bringing information into the light and answering the mysteries of the world, a natural assumption arises that such mythologies are in fact reserved for the undeveloped minds.  Yet, humans constantly seek out mystery, having what some have referred to as a 'sense of the secret' which pulls at their minds.  Unfortunately, the modern rhetoric has so much sought to remove God from the equation that the pull towards spirituality is often vague and undefined in our postmodern culture.

What was feared about these trends in culture, just a generation ago, was that it would strip humanity of its concept of the divine and leave it with a sense of technology as being divine.  In other words, science and technology were giving the answers to the world and those things which we now consider divine or mysterious are simply those things which we have yet to answer with our technological advancement and scientific achievement.  Certainly this has been the path our culture has been on these past number of years, and there is little sense that we will dramatically turn course any time soon.  The answers are seen in what we can accomplish for ourselves, and the advancements of science and technology are not bound to laboratories or mainframes.

Culturally speaking, we face a number of issues which demonstrate the same type of thought being worked out in national politics, economic theory, and healthcare (to name but just a few).  That we can provide solutions to our problems - or perceived problems - through more advancements in these areas is to assume the very context which I have outlined.  It requires the necessary removal of religion (most notably, the church) from the public sphere, although we are never void of politicians and celebrities who are willing to parade their own versions of 'spirituality' - son long as it is undefined, so as not to offend anyone.

A brilliant critique of our struggle with scientific and technological advancement is Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, where he asserts, "Technique advocates the entire remaking of life and its framework because they have been badly made" (142-143).  That is to say, once we have effectively removed the Creator from creation then we are free to rework it and remake it however we see fit.  And that is happening right now in our own culture.  The field of genetics research is one example of how science must be closely linked to ethic in order to keep the proper boundaries between God and humanity.  This, of course, has long been the case.  But once we are able to remove the necessity for God, as has been accomplished at various points in many societies throughout history, nothing good amounts.

What Ellul feared was that this type of society would no longer have a place for God or things that were supernatural.  Sadly, many areas of evangelicalism are working alongside the same groups which assume the irrelevance with God to achieve some sort of better society through the advancements of technology.  I wonder how many of these groups have ever considered that they might be embracing the very techniques which place creation above Creator.  By the way, Ellul wrote his book in 1956.

It seems as though the more we come to rely on technology the more freedom we forfeit.  In order to benefit from technology we must become part of its society, and therefore we construct lives that come to depend upon science and technology to live.  Mostly, we think of this as a good thing - especially those of us who rather enjoy using computers, fancy phones and the internet.  We are happy (and indeed blessed) by the many advancements made in science and medicine.  The warning here is that technology grows at exponential rates, and does so simultaneously in multiple directions.  Are we so certain that we are guarded from being overcome by it?  The removal of God from society doesn't happen overnight, but through an erosion.  Unfortunately, we don't always see an erosion until it is too late to do anything about it.

a problem with repentance

One of the best stories told is that of Jonah.  Beyond the oversimplified versions which have been passed through Sunday schools and pop-culture references, there is a deep and detailed story which handles a good number of spiritual issues.  It is my observation that most people only have a working knowledge of chapters one and three - skimming over the psalm of chapter two and completely ignoring the shocking reaction of Jonah in chapter four.  (Also, chapter four doesn't really seem like it ended ... we don't know what to do with things that don't have nice-n-neat endings, so we either look the other way, or invent our own wild ending, as in the Gospel of Mark.)

Every now and then I find an excuse to work through the text of Jonah, and I am never disappointed to find another issue to discuss, or another layer of meaning which has been masterfully woven into the narrative.  And, speaking of the fourth chapter, some fresh water has emerged (at least, it is fresh to me).  I'll try to think aloud on a few points ...

Clearly, Jonah is a man with issues.  Following his successful preaching to the pagan Ninevites, he decides to go for a walk.  This isn't because he is tired, or that he is seeking some alone time to ponder God's goodness.  The opening of Chapter Four clearly states that Jonah is angry because of the repentance (and subsequent forgiveness) which had come over Nineveh.  His prayer in 4:2 is actually the first place in the entire narrative where the reader is told why he did not want to go and preach to Nineveh.  Due to an overall lack of literary patience and attention to detail, there is a tendency for us to construct our own reason(s) why Jonah did not go to the city - especially since we don't seem to want to get out of Chapter One without that hanging over us.

But, Jonah does not run away from Nineveh because he is overwhelmed by the task he has been given, or that he simply is a bad seed of disobedience which has fallen off of the prophetic tree.  He doesn't flee from his vocation because he fails to understand God's character.  In actuality, Jonah takes off because he does know God's character of grace and compassion (4:2).  It is a pathetic irony, to say the least, and it goes hand-in-hand with Jonah's constant drive to gain his own death throughout the story.  In his talk with God he affirms a great statement of faith in the divine attributes, but concludes that that is the very reason why he sought to refuse his mission.  Those who have dared to venture into Chapter Four might well be arriving at a simple conclusion - this guy's dropping acid.

I wonder, however, just what about God's moral nature has gotten to Jonah.  Is Jonah angry about God's forgiveness or God's repentance?  Let me explain the difference.  If Jonah is irritated by God's forgiveness - God's granting of grace to a repentant people - to a people whom he didn't think deserved it, then we can simply pass our own judgment on the broken prophet and move on.  We will have learned to widen our understanding of God's love and offer compassion on people even when we think they don't deserve it.  It might not be the easiest pill to swallow, but we get it.  But, if Jonah is angered by God's own repentance - the relenting of divine judgment and punishment once it has been decreed - then the waters might quickly become muddied.

Notice that the entirety of Jonah's proclamation to Nineveh is single-sided: "Forty more days and Nineveh will be overthrown" (3:4).  No altar call, no summons to repentance, no hope for another outcome.  It is a simple declaration of the impending doom that will come, and he says it as though there is no option for it not to happen.  Considering his attitude towards his prophetic vocation in the first two scenes, along with his disposition in the final scene, we might suppose that his preaching wasn't the most spirited proclamation.  He seems to be going through the city with the fiery drive of Eeyore, and the willing attitude of a bratty kid whose just been forced to choke down their broccoli.  Nevertheless, much to Jonah's astonishment, it actually worked!  The city - from the king down - enters into a state of mourning, fasting and repentance in the long-shot-hope that God will not destroy them after all (3:9).

If Jonah is indeed angered by God's change of heart, then we might discover a more complex figure than we initially imagined.  Why would Jonah concern himself with God altering his own plan?  Because it can be embarrassing to serve a God who sheds his own dignity in order to save others.  That really seems to be the crux of it, and Jonah thinks that it is stupid that God would send him to announce Nineveh's destruction and then not even follow through on it.  We might wonder for a moment if Jonah hasn't been through this type of scenario before (????).  Regardless, it is quite damaging to preachers whenever they put their own reputations on the line and talk about the seriousness of sin, only to find that God is willing to forgive things so easily.

Do we not all struggle with this on some level?  Regardless of our particular Christian tradition, it seems as though all believers have their view of the world which includes our own versions of judgment.  The church can get into ruts where we see the inside of the faith community verses the outside, who ought to deserve what they get.  Often, this leads us to the same inaction of Jonah (or the barely-give-them-the-gospel action), whereby it appears that we would rather watch them receive judgment than offer them the magnanimous compassion and grace of God.  The elder son was undoubtedly ashamed of his father when he (shamefully) ran to his prodigal son.  Jonah is in the same place when God doesn't even follow through on his word.

Of further difficulty is the devastating paradox that we would wish for God's relenting of our own judgment, but not allow it for everyone else.  And it must be allowed for everyone else, or else it cannot be allowed for any of us.  At the end of the day we, like Jonah, have our own thoughts about who is deserving of God's love and compassion ... and our list doesn't always match up with God's.  Jonah is right about what kind of God he serves, but sound doctrine doesn't always reflect a transformed heart.  So long as we remain unbroken in any part of our spirit, we are missing out on the grace of God which is, actually, quite amazing.

The moment we think that we've got the story of Jonah we discover that the story of Jonah got us.  That's fitting, for it is a story of biblical proportions, scripted ultimately by the one who will stop at nothing to save us from our own destruction, that we might experience his grace and compassion, his slowness to anger and his abounding in love ... a God who relents from sending calamity.

ashes born again

Is this a day of life, or of death?  The paradoxical narrative comes forward once again, for today assures us each that the emptiness of life can only be filled by embracing our own death.  That is how our story has been written, and it does not blush at its own absurdity.  It is an assertive truth that is so serious it refuses to shrink back from those who cannot understand it.

On a fateful night, during a rather secretive meeting, the Pharisaic aristocrat was struck by such a suggestion.  This itinerant teacher and miracle-worker had just told him that the way he would find this kingdom of god would not come through a restructuring of his political methodology, but only through a complete restart of his own life.  Nicodemus had just been told that he must be born again.  When he responded to this absurdity with his own preposterous suggestion, Can I reenter my mother's womb?, he found that he was the only one laughing.  It wasn't stupidity which Nicodemus had heard, but rather a higher truth than he was ready to understand.

Death is required, Nicodemus.  You were born into the Jewish heritage; born into the Jewish faith; born into the aristocracy.  Now it is time that you are born into the kingdom of God, rather than trying to produce it from your own experience.  A choice of direction must be made, for it will not be possible to realize God's kingdom through the short-sighted vision of political gain.  Someone who is searching for the missing meaning will not find fulfillment in the 'final piece' to a puzzle.  It requires a new way of life - a death, followed by a birth.

Ashes are symbolic of this reality.  By the time Nicodemus stands at the cross, he is at a critical moment in his own life.  He must make a decision, to stand alongside the very Sanhedrin which orchestrated this cruel punishment on a fellow Israelite, or to embark on a new journey where the old is left behind.  He walks with Joseph of Arimathea to bury the body, and those steps were undoubtedly difficult at first, but as Nicodemus moved forward - even in grief - he must have realized that a new life was beginning, for he was now publicly associated with Jesus.  Perhaps now he sees the cross, not as the vivid reminder of worldly might, but as the powerful answer of God's almighty love.  Maybe this time it was God mocking the power of Rome, instead of Rome ridiculing a would-be king.

And maybe now Nicodemus finally understands what it means to let go of what once was, and move forward into what will be.  For, he now knows what it means to be truly born again.