One of my previous posts was entitled "Relax, Adam." In it, Adam is running and hiding from reality--all the while being whispered to by the enemy to keep running, to keep hiding, for only in his running and hiding would he find solace. The point of that post is that we run and hide behind busyness, and our busyness masks our true selves--our broken, messy, confused selves.
But some of us are not busybodies. We don't wear the mask of busyness. Maybe it's because we apprehend busyness as a mask, so we don't put it on. Maybe it's because our situation just plain does not allow for busyness. Or, maybe it's because we're just plain lazy... who knows.
I fall into that boat--busyness is not a mask for me. I apprehend it as a mask, I can see others wearing it, and therefore refuse to put it on. I think I'm also a bit lazy, too. But really, I just hate feeling rushed--I hate the person that I become when I feel like I'm being rushed, and more often than not refuse to submit to a fast pace in the name of "getting things done." For me, the reward of feeling like I "accomplished" a lot is cheap compared to the richness of being immersed in the process, of being fully aware in moments.
I have other masks, however. I have other ways in which I keep my true self hidden--things I put on so that when I look into the mirror, I don't have to face who I truly am. One of which I am becoming increasingly aware of is the mask of "hiding."
I run and hide a lot. In concrete terms, it looks like not checking my phone messages, not returning a phone call, or not returning an email. The phone stands in condemnation over me as it blinks red for the fifth day in a row without me picking it up. The post-it notes stuck to my desk stand in judgment over me, each containing scribbles of the messages that I did check, but that were a week old by the time I did. The emails in my inbox mock me as some of them fall under the heading "two weeks ago" or "over a month ago."
Really, it's very simple: I apprehended certain responsibilities or conversations as being messy, boring, trite, challenging, or awkward, and I chose to run from them instead of facing them. Then I find myself having to continue to run, lest those people overtake me and I am revealed for the failure that I am.
I would be much better served to turn and let them all overtake me by admitting that I fall short. Perhaps this is part of what it means to deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Christ. Perhaps I would fall--bruised, scraped, and cut, of course--right into his hands.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Being an Excellent Die-er
Excellence honors God. This is the premise upon which so much of our ministry is based.
Excellence honors God.
It sounds enticing and amazing--giving us something for which to strive, a standard by which to judge our efforts, a goal that is to be ever before us. Excellence.
If we're excellent at our ministries, we're being good pictures and reflections of the excellent life with God. If we're excellent in our programs, we'll be attractive enough to instill religious interest in those who aren't religious. If we're excellent in our music, if we're excellent in our childrens' ministry, if we're excellent in student ministries, if we're excellent in our small groups, if we're... well... just plain excellent all the way around, we'll be... excellent. And then we can breathe a big sigh of relief because we did our job to the best of our ability, and that's what God wants of us, and what he's charged us with doing.
There's even some scriptural support for this philosophy. Not much... but some. Probably one of the most referred to passages in support of the "excellence philosophy" is Colossians 3:23-24, which says, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, 24 since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." Of course, if you back up one verse to verse 22, you will see that Paul is writing to slaves--literal slaves--and talking to them about how they are to serve their masters. True, there are principles in this passage that are applicable to us, but at the very least, the different contexts should caution us as we interpret. Working with one's whole heart for absolutely no recognition and little if any reward only for the sake of the soul of one's master who may or may not be treating you as a person is a little different than trying to make a worship service "cool."
In actuality, this verse highlights the chink in the armor of the excellence philosophy, which has now become one of the core doctrines of almost any growing church in America. The chink in the armor of the excellence philosophy rests on this question concerning the slaves to whom Paul is writing: At what must the slave be excellent, first and foremost? One would be tempted to say, "Well, the slave must be excellent at whatever the master had assigned him or her. Perhaps it was a clean house, or a growing crop, or well-prepared meals. As the slave becomes more and more excellent at these tasks, he or she will build credibility with the master, and perhaps the master will see the reason for the slave's excellence." But while this is certainly descriptive of the first thing that can be seen by the eyes--namely, excellence at remedial tasks--it completely misses where the excellence of the slave rests, first and foremost.
Think about the slave's condition. You get no credit for what you do, because it is merely your obligation. That is your economy. What's your five year plan? Doing the same tasks you did today. What are your measurable goals that will tell you if you're getting to where you want to be? Well, if you didn't get beat today, or your wife didn't get raped, or your child only had to work 12 hours and not 16, then it was a pretty good day.
Perhaps the light is starting to flicker on for some of us. In a condition like that, we can start to see that the slave has to be excellent at something else first before he or she can even possibly be motivated to do the tasks with his or her "whole heart."
In what must the slave first and foremost be excellent? It seems to be that the slave must be truly excellent at dying to himself, taking up his cross, and following Christ before he can be motivated to be excellent at his duties (Matt. 20:21-28 & Mk. 10:35-45; Lk. 17:5-10). This is the "transferrable principle" for our ministries here and now.
If the slave was not first excellent at dying to himself, taking up the cross of Christ, and obediently following him into what is a difficult, harsh, and unjust circumstance, his work would be all for nothing, for it would have absolutely no eternal value--either for him, or for his master. If all he did was read Paul's words in Colossians and try hard to do well "for Jesus," he would last only for a short time, for he would soon remember that his master shouldn't treat him like he does, that his work is worth fare more than just subsistence, and that his situation is comparatively unjust to most of his contemporaries. He would soon discover that he was, yet again, unable to fulfill this new "law." And when he quit trying so hard to do well "for Jesus," he would feel like he not only failed his master, but failed his Savior as well.
But this is not the life of the Christian, and this is not the obligation that Paul seeks to level upon his readers. The life of the Christian is not one of merely striving for excellence--at least not at its truest, purest, and basest of levels. The life of the Christian continually flows from death--first from the death of Jesus as an atoning sacrifice for our sin and reconciliation with our Father, then from our death to ourselves as we repent of our striving apart from Christ and submit to living in and by him. In a very real and true sense, while we are living this life here on earth, we wake up to die every day, and in dying, we find life. We must become excellent "die-ers" before we even consider becoming excellent at anything else.
What would our minstries, our programs, our philosophies, our plans, and our goals look like if our standard for success and our measure for excellence was how well we are dying to ourselves and living in Christ?
Excellence honors God.
It sounds enticing and amazing--giving us something for which to strive, a standard by which to judge our efforts, a goal that is to be ever before us. Excellence.
If we're excellent at our ministries, we're being good pictures and reflections of the excellent life with God. If we're excellent in our programs, we'll be attractive enough to instill religious interest in those who aren't religious. If we're excellent in our music, if we're excellent in our childrens' ministry, if we're excellent in student ministries, if we're excellent in our small groups, if we're... well... just plain excellent all the way around, we'll be... excellent. And then we can breathe a big sigh of relief because we did our job to the best of our ability, and that's what God wants of us, and what he's charged us with doing.
There's even some scriptural support for this philosophy. Not much... but some. Probably one of the most referred to passages in support of the "excellence philosophy" is Colossians 3:23-24, which says, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, 24 since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." Of course, if you back up one verse to verse 22, you will see that Paul is writing to slaves--literal slaves--and talking to them about how they are to serve their masters. True, there are principles in this passage that are applicable to us, but at the very least, the different contexts should caution us as we interpret. Working with one's whole heart for absolutely no recognition and little if any reward only for the sake of the soul of one's master who may or may not be treating you as a person is a little different than trying to make a worship service "cool."
In actuality, this verse highlights the chink in the armor of the excellence philosophy, which has now become one of the core doctrines of almost any growing church in America. The chink in the armor of the excellence philosophy rests on this question concerning the slaves to whom Paul is writing: At what must the slave be excellent, first and foremost? One would be tempted to say, "Well, the slave must be excellent at whatever the master had assigned him or her. Perhaps it was a clean house, or a growing crop, or well-prepared meals. As the slave becomes more and more excellent at these tasks, he or she will build credibility with the master, and perhaps the master will see the reason for the slave's excellence." But while this is certainly descriptive of the first thing that can be seen by the eyes--namely, excellence at remedial tasks--it completely misses where the excellence of the slave rests, first and foremost.
Think about the slave's condition. You get no credit for what you do, because it is merely your obligation. That is your economy. What's your five year plan? Doing the same tasks you did today. What are your measurable goals that will tell you if you're getting to where you want to be? Well, if you didn't get beat today, or your wife didn't get raped, or your child only had to work 12 hours and not 16, then it was a pretty good day.
Perhaps the light is starting to flicker on for some of us. In a condition like that, we can start to see that the slave has to be excellent at something else first before he or she can even possibly be motivated to do the tasks with his or her "whole heart."
In what must the slave first and foremost be excellent? It seems to be that the slave must be truly excellent at dying to himself, taking up his cross, and following Christ before he can be motivated to be excellent at his duties (Matt. 20:21-28 & Mk. 10:35-45; Lk. 17:5-10). This is the "transferrable principle" for our ministries here and now.
If the slave was not first excellent at dying to himself, taking up the cross of Christ, and obediently following him into what is a difficult, harsh, and unjust circumstance, his work would be all for nothing, for it would have absolutely no eternal value--either for him, or for his master. If all he did was read Paul's words in Colossians and try hard to do well "for Jesus," he would last only for a short time, for he would soon remember that his master shouldn't treat him like he does, that his work is worth fare more than just subsistence, and that his situation is comparatively unjust to most of his contemporaries. He would soon discover that he was, yet again, unable to fulfill this new "law." And when he quit trying so hard to do well "for Jesus," he would feel like he not only failed his master, but failed his Savior as well.
But this is not the life of the Christian, and this is not the obligation that Paul seeks to level upon his readers. The life of the Christian is not one of merely striving for excellence--at least not at its truest, purest, and basest of levels. The life of the Christian continually flows from death--first from the death of Jesus as an atoning sacrifice for our sin and reconciliation with our Father, then from our death to ourselves as we repent of our striving apart from Christ and submit to living in and by him. In a very real and true sense, while we are living this life here on earth, we wake up to die every day, and in dying, we find life. We must become excellent "die-ers" before we even consider becoming excellent at anything else.
What would our minstries, our programs, our philosophies, our plans, and our goals look like if our standard for success and our measure for excellence was how well we are dying to ourselves and living in Christ?
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Daniel Boone and not Daniel Webster
Sometimes there's a fine line between summary and plagarism.
And other times, the line becomes the only thing you can see.
In fact, the line is sometimes so glaringly obvious, it is annoying. For example: you are taught as a student writer to follow an idea that is not your own with an appropriate parenthetical note. It is only right, we are told, to give credit where credit is due. So we employ various parentheses, dates, numbers, semicolons, italicized phrases, underlined words, quotation marks, and foreign names that shock a reader out of his or her rhythm of comprehension, drawing their attention away to the fact that we're saying something that somebody else has already said (and probably said better that we did!).
The more parenthetical documentation in a paper, the more obvious it becomes that the author is simply gathering information and vomiting it (neatly and sanitarily organized, of course) for your reading (dis)pleasure. By the end of the paper, the author gets an "A" for proper form, but an "F" for originality. All that the author is really saying is that he or she is really good at being a proper copycat.
Like Daniel Webster, the author has simply surveyed what people were saying, determined what it meant, and organized it onto paper. And there it is, accurate as a rifle, but sterile as a hospital room.
I think that's what we do as a church sometimes. We become really good copycats of other churches. We get their sermon series, we employ their fonts in our slides, we take from their websites, we use their philosophies, we adopt their missions, we go to their conferences, and we join their alliances.
Of course, we're not "proper" copycats, because most of the time our congregants, deacons, and elders (or even our staff members!) do not know that we are copying when we are copying. But copycats we are, nonetheless.
And now I must answer the obvious challenge: What is so wrong with being a copycat?
If something at another church is working "for the kingdom," why not "make it our own" in our own context? I mean, don't we have a responsibilty as leaders to keep ourselves familiar with the current trends, so as to stay relevant, keep moving, and keep growing like other churches are growing? We don't want to have to suffer the same setbacks that other churches have, so why not go to their conferences, listen to what they've tried, find out about what has failed, and do at our church what is working for theirs?
Because it just plain is not that easy.
Oh... and those churches didn't copy their way to "the top."
Those churches were Daniel Boones... not Daniel Websters.
Instead of finding out what God is doing there, let's find out what God is uniquely doing here. Let's start asking God, his word, ourselves, and each other:
What is the kingdom of God?
How has God uniquely extended his kingdom in and through our church in the past?
How is God extending his kingdom uniquely in each of our lives?
How is God wanting to use each of us to extend his kingdom over the lives of each other?
How does God seem to be extending his kingdom already in our midst, apart from our initiative?
Where in our community is God leading us? To whom? Would our city even know if we no longer were here? Would our presence be missed?
Once we have answered (and commit ourselves to continuing to answer) these questions, then and only then should we go looking at what God is doing somewhere else. If we don't first answer the questions about our own home, then our home will simply become a hodge podge of what everyone else's home looks like--neatly organized, of course... but sterile.
Let's be Daniel Boones before we are Daniel Websters. Let's recover the excitement and adventure of blazing a trail with God where he has us, lest we simply become articulators of where others have gone.
And other times, the line becomes the only thing you can see.
In fact, the line is sometimes so glaringly obvious, it is annoying. For example: you are taught as a student writer to follow an idea that is not your own with an appropriate parenthetical note. It is only right, we are told, to give credit where credit is due. So we employ various parentheses, dates, numbers, semicolons, italicized phrases, underlined words, quotation marks, and foreign names that shock a reader out of his or her rhythm of comprehension, drawing their attention away to the fact that we're saying something that somebody else has already said (and probably said better that we did!).
The more parenthetical documentation in a paper, the more obvious it becomes that the author is simply gathering information and vomiting it (neatly and sanitarily organized, of course) for your reading (dis)pleasure. By the end of the paper, the author gets an "A" for proper form, but an "F" for originality. All that the author is really saying is that he or she is really good at being a proper copycat.
Like Daniel Webster, the author has simply surveyed what people were saying, determined what it meant, and organized it onto paper. And there it is, accurate as a rifle, but sterile as a hospital room.
I think that's what we do as a church sometimes. We become really good copycats of other churches. We get their sermon series, we employ their fonts in our slides, we take from their websites, we use their philosophies, we adopt their missions, we go to their conferences, and we join their alliances.
Of course, we're not "proper" copycats, because most of the time our congregants, deacons, and elders (or even our staff members!) do not know that we are copying when we are copying. But copycats we are, nonetheless.
And now I must answer the obvious challenge: What is so wrong with being a copycat?
If something at another church is working "for the kingdom," why not "make it our own" in our own context? I mean, don't we have a responsibilty as leaders to keep ourselves familiar with the current trends, so as to stay relevant, keep moving, and keep growing like other churches are growing? We don't want to have to suffer the same setbacks that other churches have, so why not go to their conferences, listen to what they've tried, find out about what has failed, and do at our church what is working for theirs?
Because it just plain is not that easy.
Oh... and those churches didn't copy their way to "the top."
Those churches were Daniel Boones... not Daniel Websters.
Instead of finding out what God is doing there, let's find out what God is uniquely doing here. Let's start asking God, his word, ourselves, and each other:
What is the kingdom of God?
How has God uniquely extended his kingdom in and through our church in the past?
How is God extending his kingdom uniquely in each of our lives?
How is God wanting to use each of us to extend his kingdom over the lives of each other?
How does God seem to be extending his kingdom already in our midst, apart from our initiative?
Where in our community is God leading us? To whom? Would our city even know if we no longer were here? Would our presence be missed?
Once we have answered (and commit ourselves to continuing to answer) these questions, then and only then should we go looking at what God is doing somewhere else. If we don't first answer the questions about our own home, then our home will simply become a hodge podge of what everyone else's home looks like--neatly organized, of course... but sterile.
Let's be Daniel Boones before we are Daniel Websters. Let's recover the excitement and adventure of blazing a trail with God where he has us, lest we simply become articulators of where others have gone.
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