all fall down

A quote from Brennan Manning which I have returned to during lent for a good number of years now . . .

Viewed as a theological relic, the cross does not disturb our comfortable religiosity. But when the crucified risen Christ, instead of remaining an icon, comes to life and delivers us over to the fire he came to light, he creates more havoc than all of the heretics, secular humanists and self serving pastors put together.

The fire he came to light . . . Is there any more appropriate symbol than ash for those whose lives have encountered the Spirit of God. In the description from Pascal, 'Fire!"

the yellow warbler: an alternative to Scot McKnight

With apologies to Scot McKnight . . .

My wife and I are in no way birdwatchers, something we have no clue about.  In fact I spent way too much time trying to look up what I thought this particular bird might be, hoping that I would not find something extinct or indigenous to some remote island.  You know you are not a birder if you can only refer to them as 'that red one' or 'that pretty one' and don't really notice if squirrels are in your yard.  You know you are even more of a non-birder when the thought has never crossed your mind to shoo away squirrels with a water pistol.

Looking out our window in the autumn of 2008 and looking down to see what caught the gaze of my two-year old daughter, I happened to observe a flash of bright yellow in the trees across the drive.  I saw the whole bird at once, but since I'm not a birder it made no difference than if I only saw a portion of it.  What kind of yellow bird is this?  I would never know for certain.  Content to return to my day I noticed that my little girl was captivated.

Tempted to ignore the situation, I was reminded to soak in the beauty of creation.  So we began to take note of its manners.  Odd thing, my interest in this bird encounter.  And my daughter was clearly excited, though she had not learned how to formulate enough words to accurately describe the situation.  How does this bird behave when compared to other birds?  I would not be able to tell, for it was the only bird flying low to the ground and within our view.

There were sparrows which were content to keep their distance from this little yellow bird, staying high upon the rooftops and electric wires.  When the yellow bird moved a little, the other birds did not move.  Were they indifferent because here was a bird who was different, even somewhat strange?  My biblical training kicked in with full force - this could in fact be a metaphor for how we mishandle theology - and I was almost incredulous with the behavior of these snooty sparrows.

Just then the most peculiar thing happened.  As the yellow warbler jumped along the ground to check for some small snippets of food, an alley cat darted from behind the bush and nabbed him.  In my stunned state I almost forgot to remember that my little girl had been watching with excitement the entire time.  Not realizing what was happening in front of her, she retained her excitement - now directed to "the kitty!  the kitty!"  Too late to shield her from this event, I walked away from the window, went to my office, emerged with a black suit and conducted a funeral for the bird.  (I really didn't do this but I'm ordained Brethren, and we think it is fun to joke about death.)

Within a 90 second time period there was nothing left but a few yellow feathers on the ground, and a content tomcat.  And I realized that my observance of bird social behavior had been somewhat misguided.  For it appears that there are times when we find ourselves with what appears to be snooty birds who are unable to accept one who looks different and has alternate behavior.  But in reality it could be that it is just stupid to run around on the ground when a common cat could kill you.

Someday my daughter will once again grapple with the problem of evil.  For now, this will do.

cf. Scot McKnight, The Blue Parakeet (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008), 22-24

of god and country

Over the past number of months I have made my sentiments clear when it comes to bibliobloggers dedicating their sites to political commentary.  And I have chosen to avoid doing so explicitly here, only to pause and make observations from outside of the discussion.  Since one could easily surmise from my comments that I do not agree with the political comments made by many who choose to comment via biblioblog, I have been mostly ignored - though I know that I have been noticed.

Further, it might be thought that I do not make such comments because God and country do not belong in the same theological discussions; that church and politics do not mix.  Let me clarify my position.  It is not that I believe that church and politics do not mix, but rather church and bad politics do not mix.  And that is the root of it, I think.  For what I have witnessed (down to just about every keystroke) is the attempted synthesis of Christian theology and modern political ideals which has been done so improperly it is maddening.  Though I doubt it will help my case at this point, please understand that I am not assuming a flawed method simply because of a disagreement in principle.  That would be too easy, and I think too easily dismissed anyway.

I simply raise my voice because there is no other voice being raised in this arena.  Not all bibliobloggers relegate Christian belief to liberal social agendas, and many many non-blogging believers also disagree with such an approach.  But it seems that the very closed-off community of bibliobloggers think that their statements are often all-inclusive of the larger whole of the body of Christ - rather than doing theology out of love and humility.  (This might just explain why some of the rhetoric they spew toward other believers with whom they happen to disagree is so vile and un-Christian.)  Bibliobloggers (myself included) often have more disposable time to post thoughts on the internet than do other believers and theologians - many of whom have never even read a blog (*gasp*).

At present, most movement within western contemporary evangelicalism lies within social gospel.  This is what the current buzz-language and buzz-ideas are centered upon.  There is nothing inherently wrong with social gospel, but it must be kept in check with the whole gospel if it is to be properly utilized.  Unfortunately such is not the case, and our understanding of a gospel with makes a social difference into the world is so shaping our understanding of the biblical text that we are building a theology which resembles modern political patterns than one that holds the challenge of Jesus.

And perhaps this is why the church culture which is largely built upon the social gospel (such as much of the emergent crowd) has become obsessed with modern politics, believing that here is the path to true and lasting change in our culture for the kingdom.  While it is clear that they are able to get many theological words and concepts out there, I am convinced that they get them in the wrong order.  But when synthesized just right it, it would make sense that emergents and evangelicals of this ilk would back somebody such as Obama, who came with a flurry of the promise of hope and change.  Yet, for the past few weeks I have been unable to shake a simple concept from John Meier's work (which I have stated in another recent post): that Jesus ". . . was not proclaiming the reform of the world; he was proclaiming the end of the world."  When we hang our aspirations so low as a president (of any party), we strip the gospel of its Spirit and power.

The stripping of the gospel of Spirit and power means that the effects of the gospel will no longer be experienced - the poor will not hear the good news, the captive will no longer find release, the blind will not have sight, and the oppressed will not be free.  Such is the case when the human race is bent to begging and groveling for grace from human government and political authority when the true Messiah of the world has already brought such things to reality (though, we might also note that our sights have been set so low that true messianic fulfillment is being relegated to positions behind kitchens and baths).  

The full and true message of the gospel is not offensive and demeaning, although people sometimes say that it is.  The full and true message of the gospel is built in the premise that people have been created with the image of God, which now has become cracked and broken, but can find restoration and renewal through the God-given freedom which has been endowed upon all by the Creator as inalienable rights.

fasting

Scot McKnight, Fasting (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2009).

I wanted to drop a quick book notice for this one, not offering a more typical and fuller review at this time.  Our friend, Scot McKnight, has published (again! . . . Who does he think he is, N. T. Wright?!?), this time on the most confusing and often overlooked spiritual discipline of fasting.  Thus the book is appropriately named, and is a very good overview and encouraging primer to the importance of the activity.  With the lenten season quickly upon us, I would encourage everyone to work through this work (either before or throughout the forty day journey to Easter), and consider making this more of a part of the Christian experience once again.

It should be apparent that there is more than enough happening in our world which would lead us to give pause and consider before God.

the last word

pastorate r.f.d.

Recently, Time released an online article regarding the nature of rural congregations and the lack of preachers willing to commit themselves to ministry in these areas.  I will say that the article itself makes some good points, though it attempts to be more cut-and-dry than I believe the situation actually is (perhaps due to a limitation of space for discussion).  Only a couple of bibliobloggers have given their reactions to this, so I thought that I would enter into the fray.

I must confess that I would have probably had some significant differences in my perspective just two or three years ago, before I had spent some time pastoring a church in a rural area.  Some of the statements referenced in the article have been said to me, or things which I have had to work out when the inevitable frustrations of leading a rural church come about.  Let me say at the outset that while I think it is problematic for the church to label small, rural congregations as "less-thans" ipso facto, so also is it wrong to condemn the struggle of pastors who wrestle with the call to such areas without deeper consideration.  There are difficulties which arise in every pastorate - small, large, urban, rural - most which come from the confrontation of expectation and reality.

"Don't go.  You're too creative for that."  This is the famous line from the article, spoken to a promising seminarian by his professor when considering the move to a rural congregation.  Yes, on the surface it is a striking and pitiful comment.  But I contend there is some truth in the statement, if we allow ourselves to look deeper into these decisions.  (And I contend that the bulk of the problem here is found in shallow decision making.)  Creativity is often as narrowly defined as the perception of small rural churches.  We have convinced ourselves that true creativity in church life is found in trendy worship bands, trendier worship movements, and the ability to produce flashy mass media productions to connect our folks to the gospel.  Since virtually none of this is important to most rural churches, we think that they are not 'creative' and therefore will kill those who are.

But there most certainly is a creativity among rural congregations.  I, like many others, have had to work very hard and suffer through many frustrations to begin this discovery.  Priorities among those who are largely farmers are different than those who work in the city.  This is neither good nor bad - it is life.  Finding out which aspects of life and faith are most valued in a rural setting not only requires a truly creative mind, but so does the orientation of the congregational life to these values.  Sometimes this is easy, other times it is challenging.  But no more or less than any other church.

"A town without a Starbucks scares them."  The numbers which are given in this article point to the problematic fusion of the high cost of seminary training coupled with the majority of students now coming from urban areas.  If these are the determining factors, then there really isn't much else to say for the state of the pastorate in modern evangelicalism.  We hold in high esteem those who relinquish Western lifestyle comforts to go to foreign countries as foreign missionaries, yet regard those who serve in small rural churches as the 'less-thans.'  We are already faced with a culture that devalues the importance of pastoral calling and the reverence of the office, and this appears to be an outworking of that perspective.  Is there any good reason why a calling to a small rural congregation would not be seen as a vital spiritual endeavor?

On par with this issue is one which this article does not raise, but deserves mentioning here.  Having worked in a small rural church I have noticed the intentional divide which is still being defined between many who are in larger and urban situations.  Upon taking my current position I mentioned to my wife, "I will forever be labelled as a small church guy, and will find it difficult to get out from under that."  She thought that I was being overly pessimistic and defeatist, but having been turned away from opportunities simply because my church staff wasn't big enough . . . I think she gets my drift.  What I am saying is this: there is a perception within the body of Christ that some churches are better off and more successful than others.  Consequently, those who are in small rural churches are broken or simply not-very-good.

"Yet the believers don't give up."  This line from the article makes a significant theological statement, far beyond what the author intended or probably understands.  But it is a very true statement, not only for small rural congregations or their pastors, but for all committed Christians.  Not only do churches in these situations not give up, but neither do those who are dedicated to the spread of the gospel and the work of God's kingdom.  This really begs the question, What is to be said of those who encourage others to give up on these communities?

In sum: In my life I have worked in a number of congregations, sometimes within the leadership, sometimes from the pew, twice from within the pastorate.  My first full-time position was at a large semi-urban church.  Now I am a part of a small rural congregation.  The two are different denominations, for the first was so riddled with politics and backbiting that I left thinking that I would never be able to embrace church again.  One week ago I was ordained an elder via the small church that many others had written off as insignificant.

I do not claim that life here has been easy, nor has my struggle to understand this community and make my gifts contribute to the growth of the body.  And there are still days when I wish that I was not here.  There always will be, no matter where I am . . . so long as the church is comprised of people.  But I have come to appreciate the situation in a new way, thankful to God for his faithfulness and continued blessing upon me and my family.  But I am drawn to a statement T. Fretheim: "God works through those who have no obvious power."

end fix

John Meier writes about Jesus: "He was not proclaiming the reform of the world; he was proclaiming the end of the world."*

Interestingly enough, this comes in a discussion regarding the beatitudes - what is supposed to be a collection of niceties and well-wishes to make everyone feel better about themselves.  And this is possible, if you take them out of the context into which they were initially given.  The beatitudes have a long (and sometimes complex) history of interpretation to them, which basically means that everyone has tried to read them in their own special way at one point or another.  The key is to grasp them as a part of the entire message of Jesus, which was a straightforward and sometimes brash declaration of the imminent end of the world.  (At least, that's how Meier would describe it.)

Herein lies one more example of our failure to grasp Jesus as messiah.  We are still looking for our own messianic hopes to be fulfilled, whether in some figure or entity.  A significant gap lies between Jesus and modern conceptions of messiah and hope - we are still overly concerned with reforming ourselves into contentment, whereas Jesus challenged the very structure of the world from the ground up.  This helps to explain why we are unable to fulfill our own desires for justice, and why we are often less-than inspired by Jesus.  And perhaps it is why our culture has taken language once reserved for Jesus as Messiah and has applied them to modern aspirations and political ambitions.  Even in the church.  μὴ γένοιτο

* John Meier, A Marginal Jew, vol.2 (New York: Doubleday, 1994), 331.