Sometimes God speaks to me when I'm visiting the little boys' room. I know, it's kinda gross. But seriously, it's happened to me more times than I can share, including just right now.
Here's how I think we're "trusting in man" and "depending on flesh for our strength:"
When I was hired, I was told that I was responsible for my own spiritual health and well-being. I was instructed to do the things that were necessary to be spiritually healthy, and that I and I alone was responsible for doing them. I was also told that it was not my job to look out for the spiritual well being of another staff member, nor was it their job to look out for mine. It was each of our jobs to look out for ourselves.
Something followed that piece of advice up like "Ministry is demanding, and there's a lot of work that needs to be done for the kingdom." That part wasn't word-for-word, but pretty much captures the philosophy behind what was said.
But, that's like saying this: "I'm going to put you in a room full of radioactive material. You and you alone are responsible for doing the things that will prevent you from getting cancer."
Or, it's like saying this: "I'm going to put you in the desert. Figure out how to stay alive."
Or really, it's like saying this: "The kingdom of God is like a room full of radioactive material or a desert. Learn how to work in it."
I just can't help but feel that working like this can not be what God intended.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Like a Tree
Jeremiah 17:5-8
This is what the LORD says:
"Cursed is the one who trusts in man,
who depends on flesh for his strength
and whose heart turns away from the LORD.
JER 17:6 He will be like a bush in the wastelands;
he will not see prosperity when it comes.
He will dwell in the parched places of the desert,
in a salt land where no one lives.
JER 17:7 "But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence is in him.
JER 17:8 He will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit."
Sometimes I wish that God, when he inspired men to write these Scriptures, also revealed to them exactly how they were to be interpreted and applied in specific situations... like Targums, only written by God and not by over-zealous lawmakers. I could then thumb to the section addressed specifically to my church in my time period, photocopy it, and make it available for everyone to see. No convincing, massaging, contextualizing, persuading, explaining, or setting up needed. God said it, so we have to believe it and do it. End of story. Moving on.
Of course, that wish is tainted. It's devoid of any real life-changing relationship with God. I and everyone else would simply be bowing to a new law, instead of having the law written on our hearts by the Spirit inside of us like Ezekiel prophesies. It's devoid of any real relationship with one another, as our only connection with one another is making sure that we're to the best of our abilities following the same set of laws.
But what motivates that wish is this: I anticipate that when I attepmt to leverage this Scripture on our current situation, my application will be challenged and picked apart until it has no real power to change us. Thus, if my application matched God's application, then there'd be no doubt, no challenge, no poked holes, no smoke screens. If you don't understand, you'd have to try and understand, and not because I said it, but because God said it. That's why I wish God wrote his version of the Targums.
So here's my application:
You have two type of people contrasted in this passage. First is the person who "trusts in man" and "depends on flesh for his strength." Before I get to what I think this means, or how I see this as being applicable to our current situation, let me make clear what happens to this person: they are like a "bush in the wastelands" who will "dwell in the parched places of the desert." In other words, you know that they are trusting in man and depending on flesh for their strength because, when the heat comes, they wither and dry up. You don't have to know exactly how you're "trusting in man" or "depending on flesh." The point is, if you're drying up under the heat, you are, in some way, doing both of those things. That's the point.
The second person in the passage is the person who "trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him." Of course, this person is "like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream." It remains full of life, and produces fruit, even when the heat comes. Again, just like the previous example, you don't have to know exactly what it means to "trust in the LORD" in your particular situation. All you have to know is that if you're full of life and fruit even when the heat comes, you are trusting in the LORD and putting your confidence in him.
So my application--the application that I'm sure will be strongly challenged when it is shared--is this: I look at me, and I look at those around me, and I see a bunch of bushes withering in the heat. I do not see, either as I look at myself or at those around me, one single person who is full of life and producing fruit.
Now, I see plenty of people striving to be productive. Hell, we're frantic when it comes to being productive. But we're withering. And withering people, while they can be very productive, just are unable to produce the kind of fruit that a person connected to God will produce. It's just science... or something like that.
Thus, I conclude that all of us are somehow, someway putting our trust in man and depending on flesh for our strength. I don't know how we're doing that exactly. But I see us withering. That fact is undeniable. And if I go by this passage in Jeremiah, then I'm forced to conclude that because we're withering, we're putting our trust in man and depending on flesh for strength.
At least, that's what I think.
This is what the LORD says:
"Cursed is the one who trusts in man,
who depends on flesh for his strength
and whose heart turns away from the LORD.
JER 17:6 He will be like a bush in the wastelands;
he will not see prosperity when it comes.
He will dwell in the parched places of the desert,
in a salt land where no one lives.
JER 17:7 "But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence is in him.
JER 17:8 He will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit."
Sometimes I wish that God, when he inspired men to write these Scriptures, also revealed to them exactly how they were to be interpreted and applied in specific situations... like Targums, only written by God and not by over-zealous lawmakers. I could then thumb to the section addressed specifically to my church in my time period, photocopy it, and make it available for everyone to see. No convincing, massaging, contextualizing, persuading, explaining, or setting up needed. God said it, so we have to believe it and do it. End of story. Moving on.
Of course, that wish is tainted. It's devoid of any real life-changing relationship with God. I and everyone else would simply be bowing to a new law, instead of having the law written on our hearts by the Spirit inside of us like Ezekiel prophesies. It's devoid of any real relationship with one another, as our only connection with one another is making sure that we're to the best of our abilities following the same set of laws.
But what motivates that wish is this: I anticipate that when I attepmt to leverage this Scripture on our current situation, my application will be challenged and picked apart until it has no real power to change us. Thus, if my application matched God's application, then there'd be no doubt, no challenge, no poked holes, no smoke screens. If you don't understand, you'd have to try and understand, and not because I said it, but because God said it. That's why I wish God wrote his version of the Targums.
So here's my application:
You have two type of people contrasted in this passage. First is the person who "trusts in man" and "depends on flesh for his strength." Before I get to what I think this means, or how I see this as being applicable to our current situation, let me make clear what happens to this person: they are like a "bush in the wastelands" who will "dwell in the parched places of the desert." In other words, you know that they are trusting in man and depending on flesh for their strength because, when the heat comes, they wither and dry up. You don't have to know exactly how you're "trusting in man" or "depending on flesh." The point is, if you're drying up under the heat, you are, in some way, doing both of those things. That's the point.
The second person in the passage is the person who "trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him." Of course, this person is "like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream." It remains full of life, and produces fruit, even when the heat comes. Again, just like the previous example, you don't have to know exactly what it means to "trust in the LORD" in your particular situation. All you have to know is that if you're full of life and fruit even when the heat comes, you are trusting in the LORD and putting your confidence in him.
So my application--the application that I'm sure will be strongly challenged when it is shared--is this: I look at me, and I look at those around me, and I see a bunch of bushes withering in the heat. I do not see, either as I look at myself or at those around me, one single person who is full of life and producing fruit.
Now, I see plenty of people striving to be productive. Hell, we're frantic when it comes to being productive. But we're withering. And withering people, while they can be very productive, just are unable to produce the kind of fruit that a person connected to God will produce. It's just science... or something like that.
Thus, I conclude that all of us are somehow, someway putting our trust in man and depending on flesh for our strength. I don't know how we're doing that exactly. But I see us withering. That fact is undeniable. And if I go by this passage in Jeremiah, then I'm forced to conclude that because we're withering, we're putting our trust in man and depending on flesh for strength.
At least, that's what I think.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Relax, Adam
You gotta learn to relax, Adam. You seem so anxious. I'm sure that your anxiety will subside if you just learn to relax.
There's a good tree over there--easy to climb, with plenty of cover. Rest up in its branches. No one will be able to find you there. It's a great hiding spot. I'm sure the rest that you'll get will rejuvenate and restore you.
Just relax. Hide for awhile. Nevermind for how long--just hide for however long it takes. You'll know when it's safe to come back down. Not even He will look forever. He's not even that good at finding anything... so you need not worry.
In fact, Adam, you should just learn to be a good hider for the rest of your life. You were the one who got yourself in this predicament in the first place. You're better off up in the branches. In fact, it's your duty to learn how to skillfully hide. It's for your own survival. You and I both know what will happen if He finds you. You'll be seen for who you really are.
Nevermind that cross, or the road that leads there and proceeds from there. It's an arduous road--much more demanding than the low-hanging branches and thick foilage that safely cover you now. If you head there, you'll have no protection--everyone will see you for who you really are. In fact, you will see yourself for who you really are. And trust me, it's not pretty.
And mark my words: if you head down that road, you'll suffer what the man who first hung there suffered. He died, put on display for everyone to see. If you climb down out of that tree and head there, you'll die the same death, and you'll die it for everyone to see as well. I'll make sure of it.
I'm telling you: you'll be better off if you just keep running and hiding. The more you run, the easier running will become. The more you hide, the more skillful you'll become in what you allow others to see... not to mention the more able you will be in staying away from Him.
And if you ever get tired, just find a good branch with great cover. If you hold on tightly enough, you won't fall out. Yeah, I know... it's a skill to learn how to cling tightly and sleep at the same time. You'll get it soon enough, though. Everyone does.
There's a good tree over there--easy to climb, with plenty of cover. Rest up in its branches. No one will be able to find you there. It's a great hiding spot. I'm sure the rest that you'll get will rejuvenate and restore you.
Just relax. Hide for awhile. Nevermind for how long--just hide for however long it takes. You'll know when it's safe to come back down. Not even He will look forever. He's not even that good at finding anything... so you need not worry.
In fact, Adam, you should just learn to be a good hider for the rest of your life. You were the one who got yourself in this predicament in the first place. You're better off up in the branches. In fact, it's your duty to learn how to skillfully hide. It's for your own survival. You and I both know what will happen if He finds you. You'll be seen for who you really are.
Nevermind that cross, or the road that leads there and proceeds from there. It's an arduous road--much more demanding than the low-hanging branches and thick foilage that safely cover you now. If you head there, you'll have no protection--everyone will see you for who you really are. In fact, you will see yourself for who you really are. And trust me, it's not pretty.
And mark my words: if you head down that road, you'll suffer what the man who first hung there suffered. He died, put on display for everyone to see. If you climb down out of that tree and head there, you'll die the same death, and you'll die it for everyone to see as well. I'll make sure of it.
I'm telling you: you'll be better off if you just keep running and hiding. The more you run, the easier running will become. The more you hide, the more skillful you'll become in what you allow others to see... not to mention the more able you will be in staying away from Him.
And if you ever get tired, just find a good branch with great cover. If you hold on tightly enough, you won't fall out. Yeah, I know... it's a skill to learn how to cling tightly and sleep at the same time. You'll get it soon enough, though. Everyone does.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Missing Beauty
I think that we long for things that move the soul.
A soul that is moved is beautiful.
Things that move the soul are beautiful.
And the process by which a soul is moved by the things that move it is nothing short of artistry.
But alas, the soul is a hard thing to move, for a host of reasons.
For one, the soul most often has been wounded. Sometimes the wounds are fresh, and the soul has securely fashioned a hard protective cast to prevent further damage. Other times the wounds are so old that the callouses covering them appear to be indistinguishable from the soul itself. All of this to say: a soul, wounded freshly or not, is a hard thing to penetrate--cast or callous. And unless a soul is penetrated, it cannot be moved.
For another, the soul has been wooed by a host of lovers proven false. These lovers have so often and so easily romanced the soul, masquerading as genuine movers... but resulting only in dissatisfaction and even woundedness. These lovers have left the soul either a whore for being cheaply romanced, or a skeptic for being oft jilted. The whorish soul will have trouble remembering what it was like to be truly moved, and the jilted soul will be skeptical of anything resembling a claim of being moved.
And oh, how difficult it is to move a wounded, whorish, or jilted soul. To truly move it.
But oh, how beautiful it is when a wounded, whorish, or jilted soul is moved. Truly moved.
And how many of those who take up seats in our worship services habor within them these wounded, whorish, or jilted souls? I would venture to say the number would be a rather high percentage. Actually, I would do more than venture. I would claim.
So, knowing this--that most of our "worshippers" are in dire need of being moved so that the quotations can be taken off of that word--I wonder: do we as pastors dedicate ourselves to the artistry of moving souls which seem almost impossible to move? Or, do we punt, and settle for something less? OR, God forbid, do we add to the soul's woundedness, encourage the soul's whoremongering, and/or bolster the soul's skepticism?
It's hard work moving the soul. Maybe better put: it's hard to dedicate one's self to the difficult, messy, hard-to-measure work of moving the soul of another. Wounded souls don't seem to seek out our help; whorish souls seem to gobble up our aid at a frantic pace without any signs of lasting change; jilted souls knowingly chuckle at the life preserver we tossed them, all the while denying the fact that they are indeed drowning.
We need to approach these souls with a sense of artistry. We must become wise in the ways of the soul and how it's moved despite its many impurities, its barriers, and its appetites.
And, most likely, that journey starts with gazing at the souls within us.
I wonder how many of us will find wounded souls. Lord knows how many wounds a pastor's soul suffers over the course of a week, a day, an hour... and sometimes over the course of just a few minutes. Lord knows how many callouses cover a pastor's heart, if only for the purpose of sheer survival.
I wonder how many of us will find whorish souls. Perhaps in our quest for vision and clarity, we have romanced our own souls with lovers proven false. Maybe we are afraid of what we will see if we cut our lovers off. Maybe we're afraid of how little purity might be left. Maybe we're afraid that the lovers we so desperately want to believe are true are actually false.
I wonder how many of us will find jilted souls. How many strategies for successful life and ministry have fallen painfully short? How many new ideas have petered out to insignificance? How many phrases have been used so often that they have long since lost their meaning and power? How many days, months, or years has it been since the soul has truly "felt its worth?"
It is amazing how many demands of the job of a pastor call the pastor away from the journey within, convincing him that the journey within is wholly distinct from the journey together. I can not forsake the one for the other--either the former for the latter, or the latter for the former.
Action points will be coming shortly. I am too tired at this point to think clearly any longer.
A soul that is moved is beautiful.
Things that move the soul are beautiful.
And the process by which a soul is moved by the things that move it is nothing short of artistry.
But alas, the soul is a hard thing to move, for a host of reasons.
For one, the soul most often has been wounded. Sometimes the wounds are fresh, and the soul has securely fashioned a hard protective cast to prevent further damage. Other times the wounds are so old that the callouses covering them appear to be indistinguishable from the soul itself. All of this to say: a soul, wounded freshly or not, is a hard thing to penetrate--cast or callous. And unless a soul is penetrated, it cannot be moved.
For another, the soul has been wooed by a host of lovers proven false. These lovers have so often and so easily romanced the soul, masquerading as genuine movers... but resulting only in dissatisfaction and even woundedness. These lovers have left the soul either a whore for being cheaply romanced, or a skeptic for being oft jilted. The whorish soul will have trouble remembering what it was like to be truly moved, and the jilted soul will be skeptical of anything resembling a claim of being moved.
And oh, how difficult it is to move a wounded, whorish, or jilted soul. To truly move it.
But oh, how beautiful it is when a wounded, whorish, or jilted soul is moved. Truly moved.
And how many of those who take up seats in our worship services habor within them these wounded, whorish, or jilted souls? I would venture to say the number would be a rather high percentage. Actually, I would do more than venture. I would claim.
So, knowing this--that most of our "worshippers" are in dire need of being moved so that the quotations can be taken off of that word--I wonder: do we as pastors dedicate ourselves to the artistry of moving souls which seem almost impossible to move? Or, do we punt, and settle for something less? OR, God forbid, do we add to the soul's woundedness, encourage the soul's whoremongering, and/or bolster the soul's skepticism?
It's hard work moving the soul. Maybe better put: it's hard to dedicate one's self to the difficult, messy, hard-to-measure work of moving the soul of another. Wounded souls don't seem to seek out our help; whorish souls seem to gobble up our aid at a frantic pace without any signs of lasting change; jilted souls knowingly chuckle at the life preserver we tossed them, all the while denying the fact that they are indeed drowning.
We need to approach these souls with a sense of artistry. We must become wise in the ways of the soul and how it's moved despite its many impurities, its barriers, and its appetites.
And, most likely, that journey starts with gazing at the souls within us.
I wonder how many of us will find wounded souls. Lord knows how many wounds a pastor's soul suffers over the course of a week, a day, an hour... and sometimes over the course of just a few minutes. Lord knows how many callouses cover a pastor's heart, if only for the purpose of sheer survival.
I wonder how many of us will find whorish souls. Perhaps in our quest for vision and clarity, we have romanced our own souls with lovers proven false. Maybe we are afraid of what we will see if we cut our lovers off. Maybe we're afraid of how little purity might be left. Maybe we're afraid that the lovers we so desperately want to believe are true are actually false.
I wonder how many of us will find jilted souls. How many strategies for successful life and ministry have fallen painfully short? How many new ideas have petered out to insignificance? How many phrases have been used so often that they have long since lost their meaning and power? How many days, months, or years has it been since the soul has truly "felt its worth?"
It is amazing how many demands of the job of a pastor call the pastor away from the journey within, convincing him that the journey within is wholly distinct from the journey together. I can not forsake the one for the other--either the former for the latter, or the latter for the former.
Action points will be coming shortly. I am too tired at this point to think clearly any longer.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
King of the Hill
I watch the animated series "King of the Hill" on occasion. I think that I have an affinity with the conflict between Hank Hill and his son, Bobby. Hank is "traditional," and Bobby is anything but. Hank has an "old school" and somewhat ridgid idea of what a man should be and do, and Bobby is much more eclectic... which frustrates, embarasses, and confuses the hell out of his dad. Nevertheless, despite Hank's desire to craft his son Bobby in his own image, Hank is conscious of the fact that he needs to learn to love and accept Bobby for how he is different. Hank's not perfect, but he holds the tension between teaching and accepting pretty well. And I like that.
There was this one episode of King of the Hill that almost perfectly captures this tension. In this episode, Bobby starts going down yet another path that causes Hank to roll his eyes, furrow his brow, and sigh with a frustrated embarassment: Bobby decides to dive head over heels into the Christian rock scene. Of course, Hank has a set place in his life for church and worship--on Sundays, in the normal pew, at the normal time. I think it's a Methodist church or something like that.
Here's the set up: Bobby thinks that church is boring, and he doesn't want to go. Well, Hank thinks that this isn't right. His son needs to be a good, moral, church-going person like everybody else in the Bible belt. In Hank's mind, part of being a good man is going to church. You don't go to church to be entertained; you go because it's the right thing to do. Well, Bobby doesn't so much see it that way. He thinks that it's boring, that it's pointless, that it doesn't really add to his life at all... so he gripes about going.
Well, Hank takes matters into his own hands, and sets up a meeting with him, Bobby, and the lady who pastors the church. The pastor suggests that Bobby start going to the youth group, and Hank excitedly agrees, thinking that this might be just what Bobby needs.
So Hank makes Bobby go to the youth group. Bobby reluctantly goes, and to his surprise he doesn't find Bible nerds but Christian rockers, complete with the long hair, the cross necklaces, and the Jesus tattoos. He falls in love with this subculture. He starts dressing like them, buying Christian rock music, going to shows, etc. He even joins their Christian rock band (the animist deftly portrays Bobby like the little person who traveled and sang with Kid Rock until his recent death).
And herein lies the rub: Hank was not at all expecting this. He wanted his son to be like him when it came to church... not deviant in a different way. So Hank shows up to the Christian rock show that he forbade Bobby to perform in (but that Bobby snuck out to anyway), and drags him off the stage--much to the consternation of his son.
On their drive back to their house from the concert, Bobby is turned away from his dad, looking angrily out the window. Though the dialogue from Bobby is terse and accusing, you can see Hank beginning to soften. He wants to teach Bobby something.
They get home, and Hank takes Bobby into the garage. He pulls out a box containing all sorts of different things from Bobby's childhood--things like skates, Ninja Turtle outfits, and the like--all of the different fads that Bobby had quickly bought into, and just as quickly left behind. Bobby is immediately disarmed by this walk down memory lane. And then Hank lays this on him:
"I don't want the Lord to end up in this box."
And Bobby realizes: practicing faith requires just as much care and concern as having faith itself. You can't simply have faith and then select any old way to practice it. Rather, how you practice your faith speaks volumes of what kind of faith you have.
Relevancy, affinity, and pragmatism must take a back seat when it comes to the selection of a ministry model, a strategy, or a worship style. They must take a back seat to the unchanging nature of the biblical truths and goals which they attempt to represent.
Examples:
Musical worship is not good because it is relevant, engaging, moving, or excellent. Musical worship is good because God is good, because he sent Jesus as a sacrifice for our sin, and because it musically represents those truths. Its relevancy must help the music to portray these truths. It must engage people to ponder and believe these truths. It must move people to realize the reality of these truths. Its excellence should awaken people to the excellent work of the cross and the reality of a God Come Down. When we evaluate worship, we should always first ask: did we, through music, effectively and accurately portray the reality of Jesus, his sacrificial work, and life in him? Only then do we even consider spending time on other peripheral goals.
Ministry models are not all created equal. They most certainly do not all equally espouse and further kingdom values and lifestyles. You can't just choose the one that "works the best for your church." I just don't think that our decision in regards to a ministry model is as easy as a trial and error process governed by pragmatism. Our task as pastors and followers of Jesus, in my understanding, is to proclaim the reality of the kingdom of God, teach people what it means to be a citizen, and model what life is like in the kingdom. There are real, concrete, unchanging, life-giving realities, truths, and principles that were established in Jesus's ministry, death, and resurrection. We measure our options of ministry models against those truths before we become pragmatic about the whole thing and look to things like how many people are coming to a worship service, are in a small group, or volunteering. In essence: before we ask if what we're doing is "working," we have to ask if what we're doing is working for the right goal: the establishment and furtherance of the kingdom of God. WHICH MEANS: we have to spend as much time familiarizing ourselves with what the kingdom is as we do with how we think it could be advanced.
And I think that's it for this one... at least, for now.
There was this one episode of King of the Hill that almost perfectly captures this tension. In this episode, Bobby starts going down yet another path that causes Hank to roll his eyes, furrow his brow, and sigh with a frustrated embarassment: Bobby decides to dive head over heels into the Christian rock scene. Of course, Hank has a set place in his life for church and worship--on Sundays, in the normal pew, at the normal time. I think it's a Methodist church or something like that.
Here's the set up: Bobby thinks that church is boring, and he doesn't want to go. Well, Hank thinks that this isn't right. His son needs to be a good, moral, church-going person like everybody else in the Bible belt. In Hank's mind, part of being a good man is going to church. You don't go to church to be entertained; you go because it's the right thing to do. Well, Bobby doesn't so much see it that way. He thinks that it's boring, that it's pointless, that it doesn't really add to his life at all... so he gripes about going.
Well, Hank takes matters into his own hands, and sets up a meeting with him, Bobby, and the lady who pastors the church. The pastor suggests that Bobby start going to the youth group, and Hank excitedly agrees, thinking that this might be just what Bobby needs.
So Hank makes Bobby go to the youth group. Bobby reluctantly goes, and to his surprise he doesn't find Bible nerds but Christian rockers, complete with the long hair, the cross necklaces, and the Jesus tattoos. He falls in love with this subculture. He starts dressing like them, buying Christian rock music, going to shows, etc. He even joins their Christian rock band (the animist deftly portrays Bobby like the little person who traveled and sang with Kid Rock until his recent death).
And herein lies the rub: Hank was not at all expecting this. He wanted his son to be like him when it came to church... not deviant in a different way. So Hank shows up to the Christian rock show that he forbade Bobby to perform in (but that Bobby snuck out to anyway), and drags him off the stage--much to the consternation of his son.
On their drive back to their house from the concert, Bobby is turned away from his dad, looking angrily out the window. Though the dialogue from Bobby is terse and accusing, you can see Hank beginning to soften. He wants to teach Bobby something.
They get home, and Hank takes Bobby into the garage. He pulls out a box containing all sorts of different things from Bobby's childhood--things like skates, Ninja Turtle outfits, and the like--all of the different fads that Bobby had quickly bought into, and just as quickly left behind. Bobby is immediately disarmed by this walk down memory lane. And then Hank lays this on him:
"I don't want the Lord to end up in this box."
And Bobby realizes: practicing faith requires just as much care and concern as having faith itself. You can't simply have faith and then select any old way to practice it. Rather, how you practice your faith speaks volumes of what kind of faith you have.
Relevancy, affinity, and pragmatism must take a back seat when it comes to the selection of a ministry model, a strategy, or a worship style. They must take a back seat to the unchanging nature of the biblical truths and goals which they attempt to represent.
Examples:
Musical worship is not good because it is relevant, engaging, moving, or excellent. Musical worship is good because God is good, because he sent Jesus as a sacrifice for our sin, and because it musically represents those truths. Its relevancy must help the music to portray these truths. It must engage people to ponder and believe these truths. It must move people to realize the reality of these truths. Its excellence should awaken people to the excellent work of the cross and the reality of a God Come Down. When we evaluate worship, we should always first ask: did we, through music, effectively and accurately portray the reality of Jesus, his sacrificial work, and life in him? Only then do we even consider spending time on other peripheral goals.
Ministry models are not all created equal. They most certainly do not all equally espouse and further kingdom values and lifestyles. You can't just choose the one that "works the best for your church." I just don't think that our decision in regards to a ministry model is as easy as a trial and error process governed by pragmatism. Our task as pastors and followers of Jesus, in my understanding, is to proclaim the reality of the kingdom of God, teach people what it means to be a citizen, and model what life is like in the kingdom. There are real, concrete, unchanging, life-giving realities, truths, and principles that were established in Jesus's ministry, death, and resurrection. We measure our options of ministry models against those truths before we become pragmatic about the whole thing and look to things like how many people are coming to a worship service, are in a small group, or volunteering. In essence: before we ask if what we're doing is "working," we have to ask if what we're doing is working for the right goal: the establishment and furtherance of the kingdom of God. WHICH MEANS: we have to spend as much time familiarizing ourselves with what the kingdom is as we do with how we think it could be advanced.
And I think that's it for this one... at least, for now.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
I'm Confused
I think that's probably the most accurate and most honest way to capture my state of being at most times: confused. I'm just... confused.
I don't think it's a bad thing. Being confused, that is. I think it's just a part of this leg of the journey. At least, I hope it's part of this leg of the journey. Otherwise, I need to see a psychiatrist. Stat.
Wow... I've had to restart this next sentence about 4 times before deciding that I can't even finish it. Here is the sentence: "Here's what I mean about being 'confused...'". And then I can't finish it. It's like however I want to capture it, I just can't. Maybe that's because I'm confused about my confusion.
No, that's not it. I don't think I'm confused about my confusion. I think I know why I am confused. I'm confused mainly because I'm young. Here's what I mean by that (and this time, I think I can finish that sentence!): I think that I know why things are the way that they are. Not about everything, mind you. But about certain things. I think that I can point to biblical truths, situational evidence, and past experience to provide an explanation as to why particular things are they way they are.
But, I ask myself: do the other people around me and above me who are not so young see it the way that I see it? Would they point to the same truths, the same situational evidence, and similar experience to provide the same explanation? And if so, why are they not acting or responding in the way that I would respond?
It's here that my youth kicks in. I start to wonder: are there things that they see about this situation that I do not? Things that they are able to see because of their more extensive experience or knowledge, insider information, and the like? Is my youthful inexperience a blindspot on my sight?
And it kicks in here, too. I start to wonder: are there things that they do not see because of the filters they have developed over the years that I have yet to develop? Are those filters a good thing, or a bad thing? Do they enable clearer vision, or do they produce blindspots? Really, what it boils down to for me is this: do I see things that they do not?
And I think my youth drives me toward the latter of the two "kicking in" points. I really, really want to believe that I see things that they do not. I mean, I am forced to consider the former--that they see things that I do not. But I'd much rather believe and act upon the latter--that I see things that they do not.
And I think the fact that I want to believe the latter and not the former is a rather unfortunate characteristic of being young. And somewhat stupid and green, too.
But, come on... how romantic and amazing would it be to "take a stand" and "boldly proclaim the truth?" How godly of me. "Here's what I see that all of you obviously don't." I'd be like a prophet... like Jeremiah or Elijah or someone like that. Standing up to the leaders who have missed it... only to be chased into the desert where I have to live on crickets and manna and sugar water that comes out of rocks. Such is the life of the prophets of God.
Only I don't think that my leaders are worshipping Baal or erecting statues of themselves or anything. They're actually all respectable, sincere, godly men--worthy of my respect and submission, and from whom I can learn a lot.
Nevertheless, I am faced with this dilemma: I think there might be things that they see that I do not, and I think that there might be things that I see that they do not. I'm pretty sure that both of those are true. The trick is gonna be how to find out if indeed they both are true, or if only one of them is.
Another part about being young that kinda sucks is this: as a young person, you are easily shaped by your environment. We like to pretend that's not the case, like we know who we are and will stay who we are no matter where we are, but that's pretty much crap. It's crap because wherever we go when we're young, we encounter new things--things we've never had to think about before, understand before, or make a decision about before.
And think about them, try to understand them, and make a decision about them we will. We have to. It's our responsibility as people, as pastors called by God. But in each of those new things--those new situations that we think, understand, and decide about--our convictions and values that currently shape our thinking, understanding, and deciding are put to the test.
And these aren't school tests any more. These are tests that involve people... that involve souls. Not to mention others' perception of us... others who may even be the providers of our jobs.
And as a result of continually being tested, and continually observing how others beyond you in experience and age handle those same tests, you yourself are changed. And that's scary.
Here's why that's scary: because at every level so far, you as a young person have been given warnings by those mentors and sages that you have looked to for education, guidance, mentoring, discipleship, accountability, etc. You have listened to the stories of those who have been burned out, of those who became someone they did not set out to be, of those who miraculously escaped the traps that they found themselves in, and of those who weren't so lucky.
And you realize: my thinking, understanding, and decisions on these new situations really does matter. They matter because they are shaping who I am... shaping who I am in a way that I'm probably not even fully aware.
And you wonder: how do I know if my thinking is right? How do I know if my understanding is whole? How do I know if the decision I made was the right one? What's the standard by which I'm supposed to measure?
I feel like I should stop now. Not stop asking the questions... just writing about them for now.
I don't think it's a bad thing. Being confused, that is. I think it's just a part of this leg of the journey. At least, I hope it's part of this leg of the journey. Otherwise, I need to see a psychiatrist. Stat.
Wow... I've had to restart this next sentence about 4 times before deciding that I can't even finish it. Here is the sentence: "Here's what I mean about being 'confused...'". And then I can't finish it. It's like however I want to capture it, I just can't. Maybe that's because I'm confused about my confusion.
No, that's not it. I don't think I'm confused about my confusion. I think I know why I am confused. I'm confused mainly because I'm young. Here's what I mean by that (and this time, I think I can finish that sentence!): I think that I know why things are the way that they are. Not about everything, mind you. But about certain things. I think that I can point to biblical truths, situational evidence, and past experience to provide an explanation as to why particular things are they way they are.
But, I ask myself: do the other people around me and above me who are not so young see it the way that I see it? Would they point to the same truths, the same situational evidence, and similar experience to provide the same explanation? And if so, why are they not acting or responding in the way that I would respond?
It's here that my youth kicks in. I start to wonder: are there things that they see about this situation that I do not? Things that they are able to see because of their more extensive experience or knowledge, insider information, and the like? Is my youthful inexperience a blindspot on my sight?
And it kicks in here, too. I start to wonder: are there things that they do not see because of the filters they have developed over the years that I have yet to develop? Are those filters a good thing, or a bad thing? Do they enable clearer vision, or do they produce blindspots? Really, what it boils down to for me is this: do I see things that they do not?
And I think my youth drives me toward the latter of the two "kicking in" points. I really, really want to believe that I see things that they do not. I mean, I am forced to consider the former--that they see things that I do not. But I'd much rather believe and act upon the latter--that I see things that they do not.
And I think the fact that I want to believe the latter and not the former is a rather unfortunate characteristic of being young. And somewhat stupid and green, too.
But, come on... how romantic and amazing would it be to "take a stand" and "boldly proclaim the truth?" How godly of me. "Here's what I see that all of you obviously don't." I'd be like a prophet... like Jeremiah or Elijah or someone like that. Standing up to the leaders who have missed it... only to be chased into the desert where I have to live on crickets and manna and sugar water that comes out of rocks. Such is the life of the prophets of God.
Only I don't think that my leaders are worshipping Baal or erecting statues of themselves or anything. They're actually all respectable, sincere, godly men--worthy of my respect and submission, and from whom I can learn a lot.
Nevertheless, I am faced with this dilemma: I think there might be things that they see that I do not, and I think that there might be things that I see that they do not. I'm pretty sure that both of those are true. The trick is gonna be how to find out if indeed they both are true, or if only one of them is.
Another part about being young that kinda sucks is this: as a young person, you are easily shaped by your environment. We like to pretend that's not the case, like we know who we are and will stay who we are no matter where we are, but that's pretty much crap. It's crap because wherever we go when we're young, we encounter new things--things we've never had to think about before, understand before, or make a decision about before.
And think about them, try to understand them, and make a decision about them we will. We have to. It's our responsibility as people, as pastors called by God. But in each of those new things--those new situations that we think, understand, and decide about--our convictions and values that currently shape our thinking, understanding, and deciding are put to the test.
And these aren't school tests any more. These are tests that involve people... that involve souls. Not to mention others' perception of us... others who may even be the providers of our jobs.
And as a result of continually being tested, and continually observing how others beyond you in experience and age handle those same tests, you yourself are changed. And that's scary.
Here's why that's scary: because at every level so far, you as a young person have been given warnings by those mentors and sages that you have looked to for education, guidance, mentoring, discipleship, accountability, etc. You have listened to the stories of those who have been burned out, of those who became someone they did not set out to be, of those who miraculously escaped the traps that they found themselves in, and of those who weren't so lucky.
And you realize: my thinking, understanding, and decisions on these new situations really does matter. They matter because they are shaping who I am... shaping who I am in a way that I'm probably not even fully aware.
And you wonder: how do I know if my thinking is right? How do I know if my understanding is whole? How do I know if the decision I made was the right one? What's the standard by which I'm supposed to measure?
I feel like I should stop now. Not stop asking the questions... just writing about them for now.
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